#WHO WERE YOU BEFORE THE MAFIA | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojonanami · 8 months ago

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❝ 𝐘𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ❞

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

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

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

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

✧ wc: 18,476

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’s that? Did something happen?”

“Nothing, I just—”

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

“But why—”

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

Well, you know what you had to do.

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Feeling lonely? Go by yourself,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stare at them, “for what?”

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

How would you last another year?

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

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

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

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

And you blink, “You what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something like that.”

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

“What things have you—”

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

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

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

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

It happens far too quickly.

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

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

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

“Yes,” the man slurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you mean that?”

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said he should die—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

You swore someone was watching you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suguru?

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

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

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

“In a locked room?” And he shrugs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you weren’t.

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

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

Only to wince after a sharp flick to your forehead.

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

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

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

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

“The ones sworn to you.”

~~~~

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

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

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

Your brow wrinkles, “Who—“

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

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

And you slip into darkness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime, Princess.”

~~~~

You hadn’t seen Suguru or Satoru all week.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because you’re hurt,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And where were you?”

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

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

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

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

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

Why can’t you?

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

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

Your eyebrows knit together, “Geto—”

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

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

“You know better than to ask me that,”

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

“I didn’t say when.”

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

“Her grandfather told us—“

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

CRACK!

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

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

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

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

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

Her hazel eyes were even more startling in person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your grandfather had said he was a heartbreaker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He doesn’t need to know that.”

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did it hurt?

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

You almost scoff, but Suguru beats you to it.

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

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

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

“Who said either of you could leave?”

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When was it that you fell for them?

~~~~

You couldn’t do this. Not to them.

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

It was the only way.

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

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

So you had to let both of them go.

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

It had been a day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Satoru supposed you didn’t.

“When did she—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How convenient,” you mutter under your breath.

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

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

“Gramps—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

“I want to marry you both,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru smut #gojo satoru smut #stsg x reader #satosugu x reader #satoru gojo x you #suguru geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto fanfiction #gojo fanfiction

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risuola · 1 year ago

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I — NOT YET // When a guy in the club tries to assault you, you ask a random stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend. Little that you know that out of all people, you chose a mob boss.

contents: smut, mafia!au, briefly mentioned assault and tiny bit of violence, Sukuna (yeah, I consider him a warning), reader discretion is advised — 2,7k words

a/n: mada... mada mada~ the very second I heard this menace toying with Panda, Kusakabe and the rest in Shibuya, not allowing them to move unless he say so - my head went straight to the idea of him playing the same game in bed.

ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist

Sukuna never had to get used to being interrupted. Never. Anytime it happened in the past, all he had to do was to glance at the person and it usually got the message across. His gaze has enough power in it to quickly inform the intruder why invading his personal space or cutting him half-sentence is a damn bad idea. One look from him usually was enough to make anyone reconsider if they really want some problems. Sukuna had his eyes trained to be sharp and cold, his body strong and intimidating and his aura dangerous. He spent years building his reputation, earning a position in his world that now guaranteed him calm.

Now everyone and their mothers know that he’s not the one to cross paths with. He’s a VIP, he’s allowed everywhere and he has no qualms about killing someone. Ryomen Sukuna is a brand, he’s a threat, he’s untouchable, invincible. No one in the right mind would ever try to start anything with him at this point. That’s why, when he tried to relax in one of many clubs that he owns in Tokyo, he couldn’t believe someone had the guts to push onto him at the bar.

“Hey, sorry, can you please pretend to be my boyfriend for a second?”, he heard near his ear and following the sound and the soft tug on his elbow, he turned his head towards you. Lucky girl, he thought while quickly assessing the view. You were too god damn pretty to be killed, looking at him with those pleading eyes that glistened in the harsh artificial lights. You were visibly scared of something, or someone, and oddly enough it wasn’t him who brought you to the verge of tears.

“Your boyfriend, huh?”, he mused, allowing his eyes to trail down your figure. The dress you had on left little to imagination and yet he wished to tear it off to see more of you. It hugged the shapes of your body perfectly and the silky fabric betrayed the lack of bra underneath. You were attractive, but clearly not smart enough to think twice before approaching a stranger.

“Please, I beg you, this guy—“, you tried to explain, squeezing your perfectly manicured fingers around his veiny forearm, but your sentence was cut in half when a man grabbed you by the waist, pulling you away just a little and harshly pressing your back against the bar. Sukuna watched as you winced when your spine hit the edge of the wooden countertop, he watched for a moment how you tried to push the guy away. With no effect, you weren’t strong enough to stand against him, you were trapped between the unwanted body and the furniture behind you, fighting the hungry hands that were groping your figure.

“Naoya, get off of me—” you tried, pushing his face away from where he was trying to suck a spot onto your neck.

“Oh, shut up woman, I know you want it,” the blonde-ish idiot grinned, twisting your arm enough to make a space for himself. He wasn’t bothered in the least with the fact he was trying to get between your legs in the very center of a club. Sukuna’s club.

Ryomen zeroed the whisky in his glass and got up from the chair. Usually, he would ignore situations like this. Other people’s problems were none of his business and he had enough his own things to take care of, to bother himself with anything else, but you. You were a problem he was willing to explore.

“Zenin, huh?”, he asked, connecting the name he heard falling from your lips with the wannabe gangster he heard about many times before. There was a certain reputation tied to Naoya’s name, mostly regarding his treatment of women but as long as he wasn’t touching his women, Sukuna couldn’t care less about this trash of a man. You definitely were not his woman. Yet.

“The fuck you want, I’m busy,” Zenin groaned, pulling his nasty mouth away from your shoulder for just a moment, only to shot a glare to the club owner.

“I can tell that you’re busy,” Ryomen grabbed one of Naoya’s wrists. It wasn’t looking like a hard grip, but the face of the blonde betrayed the sharp, bone-breaking pain he felt.

You felt some kind of relief when the stranger you just met stepped between you and your unwanted date. The large body of him towered above you completely, he was bigger than you thought when you approached his sitting form, but you couldn’t think about it for too long when he dealt with Naoya so easily. Once the blonde was gone, he turned to you.

Your heart skipped few beats once you took the image in. The man was huge, way taller than you and built like a greek god. The sharp outlines of his muscled torso beautifully showed through the dark graphite dress shirt. Looking up, you could finally see his face clearly. His features were attractive, dangerous with the black tattooed lines around them. He could easily be a gangster or something.

“T-thank you,” you spoke finally, snapping out from the initial impression of him. He was a red flag, you knew that. If not for the circumstance, you’d probably be the first to run away from him. He was hot. An absolute smokeshow, but he was certainly bad news.

“Was he your date?”, he asked, pulling a chair that he was sitting on previously and twisting it to position, before his large hands landed on your hips. There was no effort whatsoever when he lifted you and sat you down on the seat. He opted to stand next to you.

“No… I came here with a friend, but she left earlier. I was just about to leave as well, but this guy stopped me,” you sighed. “He wouldn’t let me go, I was afraid that he’ll just walk after me to my home. I’m sorry I interrupted you.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture in itself was soft, but you shivered underneath his touch nonetheless. You couldn’t quite tell what made him so… scary. Was it his overwhelming frame? Or maybe the calm, distant demeanor? He had authority, he was expecting submission and when he was looking at you, you felt like a prey of him. Strangely, you were quite fine with that. You had no wish of doing anything with Naoya, but this man… he was different, he was interesting, he made you cross your legs just to feel any kind of pressure between your thighs. “Your name?”

“Y/n,” you replied.

“Y/n. Nice,” he gave it a soft nod and ordered two drinks. “Ryomen is my name. Sukuna Ryomen. Memorize it.”

“Sure…”

At this moment, you had no guts to ask why was it important to imprint the name he told you into your brain, but it all became clear just barely two hours later. You couldn’t exactly recall the moment Sukuna led you out of the club and into his car. There was something so enticing about his entire aura that made you lose your ability to think. He made you break every rule you ever had for yourself – to not talk with strangers, not go with them anywhere. Before that night you were doing exceptionally good in avoiding danger, you somehow slipped through your life up until that point without any major problems, but once you faced the problem, it was a big one.

The talk was good, it flowed easily and the menacing aura that Ryomen had all around him kept you interested. You had no idea that you’re attracted to bad boys, and maybe you were not exactly into school hooligans. Turned out, you’re aroused by the much worse kind – the kind that keeps a gun behind his belt, drinks pure whisky and makes people run away just by shooting them a glance. Yeah, that seems to be the kind of men you are into, because if there was any common sense left in you, you’d be out the door and running towards the safety of your dormitory. If there was any self-preservation instinct in you, you’d be probably anywhere else, rather than in here.

In the most luxurious house you’ve ever seen, not to mention been inside of; somewhere in the outskirts of Tokyo where you were not even sure how you can get back to your home from there. If you were just a little smarter, you’d for sure be in your own bed right now and not on the dark leather couch, with your silky dress scrunched up around your waist and your underwear torn to pieces and laying on the floor. If you had more braincells, maybe you wouldn’t be bouncing on that stranger’s dick right now, gripping onto his muscular shoulders as one of his large hands kept your hip in a dead grip, leading your moves up and down his girthy length and the other one tightly squeezed around the back of your neck, from where he was keeping his head close so he could kiss you so hungrily it took your breath away. But that’s just where you were. And you wouldn’t change a thing.

He felt so goddamn good, filling your tight hole to the very brim, stretching you to the point of delirium and he wasn’t even fully in yet. His moves were aggressive and yet sensual; he made you feel small even if it was you who was on top of him. You had no control, he made it clear with the way he was holding you and every time you tried to dominate him in any way, he quickly showed you your place back. Maybe later, he’ll let you have your way with him, but now, he was in charge.

“Think you can take all of me?” He asked against the delicate skin of your neck, now painted in red and purple marks he nibbed onto it. You could feel him grinning at the way you squeezed your little hands on his clothed biceps. He got you all exposed and yet he only allowed you to free his dick; his shirt was still buttoned up, his pants were still on his legs. There was a certain dominance shown in the way he got you all naked on top of his suit.

“N-no,” you breathed out, “too big.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can.” Sukuna doesn’t exactly accept no as an answer and he for sure gave you enough time to accommodate to his size. “You’ll take it and thank me for it, yeah?”

“Yes,” was all you could mumble, before both of his large hands landed on your hips. The iron grip, you were sure, was going to bruise you but now, it felt grounding in a way.

“Good girl,” he praised, his purr vibrated against your skin as he sucked yet another mark along your collarbone. It distracted you for a moment before he pushed your pelvis even lower, fully bottoming into you. Your clit made a contact with his lower belly, the harsh brush of his skin against the swollen bud making you moan louder than you were meaning to. You felt like all of your organs were moved out of the way just to make more space for his dick and Sukuna couldn’t be more satisfied by the way you took him in. “See? As if you were made to take this cock.”

Something incoherent left your mouth, a tear stained your cheek and the man was happy to lick it away, tasting the saltiness before he bucked his hips up, keeping yours in place. He took full control, thrusting into you with all the power he had in his muscular body and you held onto his shoulders with your little hands. The filthy, wet sounds were filling the interiors, bouncing off the walls and mixing with all of the whines and whimpers that were leaving your lips. Some grunts added to the melody, but you barely heard any of it, too consumed by the exploding pleasure between your legs.

Sukuna’s name was leaving your mouth like a prayer, you felt so close, you felt like falling and you had no intention to stop. The man grinned, licking a long stroke along your throat, his tongue curling upwards as it reached the tip of your chin. The taste of your skin felt intoxicating to him, he wanted to devour you whole, to keep all for himself.

“You wanna cum, huh?” His voice was taunting. “You’re clenching around me so fucking hard, you’re gonna milk me as well.”

“Yes, yes, please,” you near damn begged, chasing the bliss that you could almost taste on your tongue right now. It filled all of your body cells, rushed through your veins in ecstatic waves of lust.

“Not yet,” he ordered and it felt almost painful to force yourself back from the state of climax. You could tell he was playing with you, toying with his dominance, reminding you that it’s him who pulls the strings in here. And yet, he was still rutting into you, his movements completely different to what he was saying, he was fucking you like he wanted you to cum in that very moment. “Still not yet,” he teased, feeling your little fingers digging onto his shoulders, your manicured nails nearly making holes in his shirt as your eyes fell shut.

“Oh god, Ryomen, please,” you whined. Your thighs were shaking, your spine arching and the incredible tension below your stomach threatened to burst any second now.

“Now,” he ordered and just like that, all inside of you snapped. You came all over his dick, and you came hard. It felt like nothing you’ve ever experienced, like you were suddenly shot into another dimension and if not for the way he sped up his movements, you’d probably just get lost in the lustful feeling. Ryomen came just few moments after you, wrapping his arms around your waist and painting your walls white. You felt him throbbing, spasming inside of you, the hot seed gushed out of you as he was pumping it in, staining your thighs and the bottom of his black shirt. Then he pushed you down, fully onto his cock, plugging the way out for his cum.

You found his lips, swallowing his quickened breath as you kissed him with desire and he gave in, quickly dominating the kiss. You were tired, the muscles in your legs were burning from the intense exercise, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling of still wanting more. He made you hungry, he made you unsatiated and you were sure, you won’t be able to recognize yourself after you’re done with him. You were never such a greedy lover but frankly, you never had a chance to feel that good with anyone. The boys you’ve been with had no skills and if not for the orgasms you gave yourself with your fingers, no one else ever brought you over the edge like Sukuna.

“Can you undress?” You asked him, your lips brushing against his as you mouthed the question and he chased your kiss with his head, grabbing your lower lip between his teeth. There was a certain expression painted all over his dangerously handsome features, the menacing aura amplified as he took his sweet time before replying.

“I can undress,” he began, yet there was a but hanging in the air. He had conditions and you were open to hear them. “I’ll give you two options, little kitten. Wanna hear ‘em?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t undress. You can pull yourself together and I can drive you back to your home now. But I can also take the suit off, carry you to my bed. Then you’ll stay with me till morning, but don’t have any hopes for a calm sleep, no. The night will be as filthy as it can get. You’ll be sore tomorrow, most likely exhausted.”

You blinked hearing the options. It was clear as day, stop there or continue? You knew the answer already, your body decided for you even before he came up with an offer.

“Will you drive me home as well if I pick the second option?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s get you naked.”

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gremlingottoosilly · 5 months ago

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Blind!Reader who accidentally bumped hard into Mafia!Konig, hard enough for to Konig thought it's some punk who wants to pick a fight with him but only to find a cute girlie with a walking stick that sprawled on the floor because of the wall of meat he is (feel free to use the "you hurt your ankle!?" excuse for him to take Blind!Reader for his own)

Konig was ready to kill when he felt someone bump into him. A fucker should be blind not to notice this wall of muscles and bottled anger coming his way - and Konig sure as hell would make them blind if they are dumb enough not to look around when they are walking. His hand goes to grasp his gun - an instinct, in case the fucker wasn't just dumb, but an enemy...and then he hears a whimper. Clacking of a stick falling to the ground. Cute whimpers. Female whimpers. The "oh my god, sir, I'm so sorry, I didn't want to bump into you, but they changed the street layout since winter and-" God, you were fucking adorable. Precious. Pretty. Cute. Whimpering like a kitten when he helped you stand up, letting you clutch on his hands as a guiding line. Supported you by your waist while handing you the walking stick - and not letting go of your body even as you were trying to stand up without being wobbly. He knows you're probably fine, you didn't fall that badly, but he grasps for straws in trying to keep you by his side. Apologizes, even, his nervous and anxious self returning for a second as he understands that the situation isn't about possible murder. It's about possibly finding a cute girlfriend. Now, he obviously can't leave you to fend for yourself. Konig doesn't care that you survived on your own and is perfectly fine without him - he also doesn't care that you really hate having him dote over you like you're some helpless creature. He needs you by his side, preferably under him, and the fact you survived for so long on your own actually doesn't say anything - he needs to protect you, even if it means being as overbearing as possible. Even if it means simply picking you up like a lost cat and getting you over his shoulder, squeezing your ass one time before packing you into a dark vehicle. You can calm down by trying to memorize his face through your hands, and he can memorize himself with the curves of your sweet body. God, he is going to enjoy making you his...even if it means locking you up in his mansion so no enemy could use you to get to him.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #mafia!konig #mafia!cod

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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

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Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel au #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky au #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky x you #mafia au #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes hurt/comfort

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ja3hwa · 3 months ago

Text

♡ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐧 || 𝐉.𝐘𝐇 ♡

【Synopsis】 : a new book shop had opened on the block, and a certain marfia leader was interested in the sweet little owner.

『Word count』 : 9.01k

-> Genre: Mafia. Smut. Romance.

Pairing: Perv!MobBoss!Yunho! X Librarian!Reader

[Warnings] : Pervy Yunho. Like I mean this man is so horny for the reader it's crazy. Really shameless flirting and a lot of flustered most likely cringe moments but it's fine… I promise. Mention of criminal activity. Yunho is a classy criminal, what can I say. Swearing. Tension. Inappropriate thoughts. Strangers to Lovers?? Domestic play. These two already act like an old married couple, confirmed. Making out, oral(f). Fingering. Edging. Dirty talk. Unprotected sex.

Author note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY DARLING YAYA!! I hope you enjoy this little treat. This is plot heavy. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I had such bad word vomit. May or may not end up writing another part, we’ll see ahh. Ah, i love you ♡ @skteezcursed ♡

Also this is not beta read so please be mindful of any mistakes ♡

Networks: @atzhouse @wonderlandnet @illusionnet @cromernet

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“I’m just saying why can’t you get one of the field boys to do it. You got a meeting in thirty, and I don’t see how explaining to them you were ‘out for an errand’ will solve your tardiness.” The driver scoffed yet again as he took the next right towards the new shop that had just opened a few weeks ago in town. A little book shop. There hadn’t been a proper book shop in this part of the city in years, and Yunho was immediately interested in it.

“Like I said, I want to see this place for myself. I don’t need one of those knuckleheads barging in like they own the place. And none of those bozos will ever say a word. I could be a day late, and they’ll all pretend they were just early.” Yunho rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his whiskey. He felt tired just thinking about that meeting. The one he’s been putting off for months. “Stop here.”

San sighed in defeat before taking a spot on the busy road. No one seemed to bat an eye as a black Chevy Suburban rolled up, but then again, most people on this side of town knew exactly who the car belonged to. “Meet me back here in twenty. Go grab us a coffee or something.”

“Wait but, Sir. You can't just—” Yunho slammed the door to the car. “Leave…”

The little bell on the top of the door rang cutely as Yunho entered the quiet establishment. There was barely anyone in here, if not no one at all. Perfect. He thought, given he wanted to be able to meet you in peace. And there you were, casually placing books in their rightful places on the shelves. You are wearing a cute sundress with an apron over it. There’s a little sun pattern all over the fabric, making it match with the pastel yellow ribbon in your hair. You were the most beautiful thing Yunho had ever laid eyes on. And the first time he noticed you were in the cafe, a few shops down. You bought a hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin. He still remembers the smile on your face when you took that first sip, getting a little foam moustache as a result.

He wanted nothing more than to kiss your sweet face then and there. So naturally, he looked you up. Finding out you had opened up this vintage-urban store. You had moved from outta town, but no one knew where, and your family and history was a mystery. Even to him and his beast detectives. You were no one. And that made you even more interesting. “Come on..just..g-go.”

You were on your tip toes trying to reach the top shelf to put a book back but you being forgetful, left the stool in the back closet and you had decided it was too much of an effort to go back and get it now. You jumping was what you resorted to. You looked like a rabbit in Yunho’s eyes. A sweet little rabbit that’s breast bounced perfectly with every hop. The scrunch in your nose and little tongue poking made him wonder what your face would look like if when you were fucked just right.

His feet moved swiftly until he was flush behind up. You felt his broad chest before you heard him as he softly grabbed the book from your delicate fingers and placed it where it needed to be on the shelf. But what ultimately caught your attention was his smooth voice. “Looked like you needed some help, doll.”

Oh right then and there you felt your life was about to change very dramatically and oh, how it did excite you. “T-thanks.”

“Anytime.” His deep voice spilled in your ears like butter, and his cologne danced around you making the outside world cease to exist. He was walking sex on legs, something out of a dark romance novel and you knew exactly who he was. “So, have you got any book suggestions?”

Your smile grew when he asked the question but Yunho was cringing inside. That was really the best he could do. He’s been watching you for weeks and that was all he could mutter up. You on the other hand, chirped, plodding off deeper into the store. Yunho followed as he watched you scanning the shelves, your fingers tracing the spines of multiple books as you passed them, your mouth quivering out the titles of each one. “Here we go!” You grabbed a black book off the shelf. It had a red misty design all around it with bold white lettering in the centre. It looks magical, like you. “This is one of my favourites. But be warned, it’s a lot of info dumping at the start. But the ending is worth it.”

“Thanks doll. What is it about?” Yunho’s smile makes your heart shake, your fingers grazing his as you hand him the book. Your throat became dry, unable to think of the right words to describe the novel…”Oh it's fantasy…”

You snapped out of your brain as you see the man scanning the blurb on the back, his smile growing into a sly smirk as he read some of the words, Romantic, erudite and suspenseful. You put your jittering hands in the pockets of your apron as you tried your best not to blush. “Y-yeah.. yes. I. It's really good. It’s got witches and vampires, all sorts of creatures.”

Your little ramble caused Yunho to smile ear to ear. The way your face slowly lit up the more you spoke about it, the dramatic movements of your hands as you used them to further express your emotion. He had come to the conclusion you were the cutest thing on the planet. And he would do anything to protect that. “Well I’ll definitely give it a read, sunshine.”

Your like deepened the shade of pink upon hearing the cute nickname that slipped from the tall man. You felt like your legs were slowly turning to jelly at the thought not only was he hot as all fuck, but he was in fact a reader, like you. “T-Tell me what you think when you finish it.”

“I shall.” His remark was quick, the smirk making your heart race. When was he this close to you? Was he always this close to the point you can smell his cologne mixing with the whiskey on his breath. You gulped, watching his eyes scan from your eyes to your lips, before letting his own by swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. “I needed to speak with you about something as well.”

His deep authorial voice rattled in your mind, suddenly shaking you from your fantasy, making you remind yourself who exactly was standing in front of you. You nodded with a small ‘of course’ before walking towards the front counter. Yunho followed you as he spoke, “I’m assuming you know who I am…” his throat felt dry at his own words.

“Everybody knows who you are, Mr Jeong.” Your words seemed flattened, almost worried. In truth you were scared, but the murmurs that circled when you first entered the city was not something you took lightly. The cruelness people spoke off. The ruthless man known as the Viper. Mr Jeong Yunho. Too young to be a mafia lord, yet here he stood, powerful, feared and wealthy. “I suppose you were here originally for business then...”

Yunho watched as you took out the logs of the shop, no longer making eye contact with him. Of course you knew who he was, why was he so stupid in thinking he could pretend for one single moment to be someone else. To be a normal guy that could sway the sweet sunflower that owns the book shop. A fantasy, he thought, one that won't come true. “I protect these shops on this street. And I was wondering if you would be interested in getting into the same agreement.” he bit his tongue, trying his best to be professional.

“And what do I have to do to get this sort of treatment…” Your hands were shaking more than you’d like them too, not wishing to look into his cold eyes. But his eyes weren't cold, in fact they were swimming in conflict. He didn’t need anything from you, just like the other shops. No, he protected people that needed it and in return he asked for their favour. Nothing more nothing less. But he didn’t want a favour from you. No he just wanted…

“A smile.” Yunho said sternly.

“W-what?” You finally looked up at him to see a soft smirk on his shaded pink features and then he replied again..

“I want you to smile.”

You couldn’t help but yearn for Yunho every time you opened your shop. Waiting for him to walk in through those doors like he did almost two weeks ago now. you still remember the butterflies in your tummy as he said his goodbye…

“Like that.” Your smile grew bigger as he stepped closer to the counter. “It suits you so much.” He picked up your hand gently before placing the softest kiss on your knuckles. You swore your heart stopped at that moment. “I’ll be seeing you, sunshine.”

And with that he left, leaving your blood rushing to your ears and a hefty tip on your counter.

“Hey, so do I sort the biographies by title or by author.” The young worker so reluctantly hired comes rushing in from the store room, his shirt on the wrong way and his laces barely tied… his mother had practically begged you to give him work since he was almost twenty-three and still without job experience. And now you can see why no one wanted to hire the poor thing. He wasn’t the brightest.

“Uh yeah. By author and make sure they are put in the end row by the nonfiction section, please.” You pinched the bridge of your nose as you watched him stumble away to the back of the shop, his laces making him side step.

And then you heard a crash. Followed by a quick, “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” You felt like you needed to ask.

The young boy rounded the shelf, looking back at you with a face as bright of a pink as the poor flowers he was holding. He had broken another vase... perfect.

“Just put it in the back.” You scratched your chin sighing as he repeated over and over ‘I’m sorry’ while cleaning up the what you’d count as the fourth vase filled with flowers. You shook your head, looking back at the receipt logbook again, going over all the money you’d have made since opening. It was surprising, to say the least, the amount of people that have purchased or borrowed books in such little time made you giddy. You felt a sense of accomplishment at the idea people were reading. The sound of the doorbell chimed, shifting your attention to a possible new customer. “Hello, how can I help…”

“Hey Sunshine.” Yunho’s face beamed with happiness upon seeing you. His casual wear catches you off guard. He almost looked normal and not some big bad mob boss who could get away with your murder. “I’ve read your book.”

“Y-yunho.” You perked, closing the logs before quickly rounding the front desk until you were almost inches from him. Close enough to smell his gorgeous cologne. “That didn’t take you long…”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, reminding himself he had spent hours reading the book when he should have been working. But who was going to yell at him for it anyway? No, he needed to finish the book quickly so he could have something to talk about. “No, I fell in love with it on page one. And besides, the quicker I read it. The quicker I could come back here and ask you for another.”

Your face blushed as he took a step closer. You gulp at the proximity, practically feeling his body heat. His on hand leaning on the counter behind you, closing the distance. "D-do, you have any in mind..."

Yunho watched your eyes flutter close, taking in his aura. He couldn't help but smirk at how much he affected you. Infecting your perfect little innocent act, because from what he read in that novel, he knew you were the sunshine he depicted you as, no, there was a dark streak inside you, and he wanted desperately to draw it out. "I was curious if you got something more spicy. Hmm."

"S-spicy!?" You gasp, opening your eyes to gaze into Yunho deep ones, his pupils blown out, almost consuming all the chocolate in his eyes. His smile only grew, placing his other hand on the other side of your body, now trapping you between his large body and the counter.

"Oh, I know you've got ideas, baby. That book wasn't as innocent as you remember, hm." The tilt in his head made you dizzy. His face inches from yours. If you wanted, you would only need to move an inch to close the gap. To finally feel those lips you'd been dreaming about for the past couple of weeks.

"I could give you some suggestions..." You whispered your breath, mixing with his. Yunho bit his bottom lip, inching closer and closer until his lips graze yours and just enough to—

"I think I lost the log book again in the...." The young boy, frozen, almost dropping some of the books that he held tightly in his hand. Yunho sighs, reluctantly pulling away slowly. You looked down at your feet, feeling like your heart was going to jump right out of your chest. "S-sorry."

"It's okay, George. Just.. Did you leave it on the desk in the back again?" You answered the poor boys' question, making his face light up with cringe. He muttered to himself before scurrying off towards the back room. You look back at the man still caging you against the counter, but his gaze was elsewhere. On the young boy, in fact. Yunho could explain it, but he knows that kid. He's seen him somewhere. His face is so familiar yet lost. "Are you okay?"

Your little murmur caught the mob boss's attention, turning his attention to you once again. He cleared his throat before standing up straight, almost making himself bigger than normal. His gaze still flickered to where the back room was. His gut told him something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. "Yeah, don't worry, sunshine." He finally looked back at you, gifting you one of his award winning smiles, "I'm good."

"Well. I should be getting back to work." You felt a slight twinge of embarrassment circle in your tummy. Getting caught in the arms of a man like Yunho but being caught almost kissing him. That was a scandal and a half. Argh, you can practically hear all the old bettys in the street gossiping already. You go to turn away from him, but his hand grips your upper arm, swinging you into his chest. His free hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Let me take you out." He smirked.

"A date?" You questioned.

"Yes. I like you, sunshine. If that wasn't obvious enough." He could see your ears start to turn pink as you tried to look everywhere else. Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears, feeling an overwhelming sense of every emotion under the sun. He leaned closer until his lips grazed your ear, whispering, "Think about it. I'll come back Friday afternoon before you close, and you can tell me your answer."

He lightly kissed your cheek before letting you go, walking out another thought. You just stood there, shocked, thrilled and absolutely terrified.

"You can't go."

"What?" You knitted your brow as you turned to George standing in one of the aisles. He jumped, changing his expression from a plan and cold expression to one of bewilderment.

"Uh, what I mean is you shouldn't. He's not a good man." You can see his grip on the books tighten as he grits his teeth. Your expression stayed the same as you turned your back to him, opening the logbook to where you were before.

"I know who he is." Your words were cold, blunt, almost shocking the young man. He was taken aback, to say the least, but then again, he expected your response. In fact, he hoped for it.

Through the following days, you found yourself staring at the clock, waiting, begging for the day to end. You wished desperately for it to be Friday every time you woke up. It was finally Thursday when your craving died a little. An old lady had come in to return a few books, and she had said a fine looking man had asked her to give you a piece of paper. A letter. To say your heart nearly jumped through your throat would have been an understatement. "Hey, George. I need to do some paperwork, watch the store."

"You've never let me work the regis—." You didn't even let the poor boy finish his statement as you sped off towards the back room. Your shaky fingers locked the door as quickly as possible before you practically jumped into the swivel chair. ‘Open it’ you told yourself ‘it has to be from Yunho’. Your smile only grew bigger at the voice singing in your head. You open the paper and see it's written in the most beautiful hand writing you've ever seen. It read;

To my sunshine,

Even though our interactions have been brief, I have to confess that crossing paths in your bookshop was not the first time I've noticed your beautiful presence. I first saw you in the cafe, three shops down. The way you were lost in your book while sipping on your hot chocolate made me want to dive into your mind and see its wonders. Curious what could be lying within… You’ve been on my mind ever since. I have found I am unable to sleep at night without the thought of you. Call me old-fashioned with this letter, but I needed to get this off my chest without blabbering like a fool in front of you. I can't wait for our date tomorrow that I know you’ll say yes to. But until then. A gift…

You look at the bottom of the page and note there is a phone number. If the confession of love wasn't enough, him giving you his number was certainly going to kill you. You had already planned to say yes to his date but now an idea sparked in your mind. In truth, you have found feelings towards Yunho, like you had been made for one another. No amount of time, whether little or long it was, you know your feeling would stay the same. So you wanted to take the reins for once, even if deep down you knew you wouldn't be able to hold them for long.

Sunshine// I got your letter. I want you here out the front by 6 pm, wear something casual.

You left no room for argument as you shut your phone off and held your head high. George’s expression of unpleasantness couldnt… wouldnt, stop you from the growing butterflies in your gut. You were finally going to be happy, and Yunho was the one going to give it to you.

You swore it wasn’t this cold yesterday afternoon, the keys almost sticking to your ice cold fingers. You checked the locks to the doors one final time before letting out a sigh of relief and nerves, ready to call it a night. “Well hello, Sunshine.”

You turned with a smile, seeing the man of the hour. He was wearing a less-fancy dress suit. No tie, or cuff links. You couldn't help but giggle. “I said casual wear Yun…”

“What do you mean love? This is casual.” He chuckled, taking two large steps to you, closing the gap. His hand snuck around your waist, squeezing the flesh on your hips. “Where are we off to tonight?”

“A surprise. So you’ll just have to trust me.” You giggle, your palm resting on his chest. You could feel his heart racing a million miles, yet he looked so composed. But then again in his field of ‘work’ he needed to show almost no signs of emotion.

“I’d trust you with my life.” Yunho had never used those words so lightly, but it was the truth. He couldn't explain it but he could easily lay his life down for you. You could crush it if you wished and he wouldn't say a thing. You blushed at his confession, reaching on your tiptoes you kiss the rugged man's cheek, before pulling away towards the street.

“I loved your letter by the way.” And with that you turned to start walking, letting Yunho trail after you like a love sick puppy.

“Just this way…” Yunho followed you curiously as you weaved through the streets. There were no restaurants or diners around in this area he knew of and given he owned half the city he should be aware of almost everything. So where on earth were you taking him? You turned your head over your shoulders spotting the confusion on his face, you couldn't help but giggle at his wide boba-like eyes. You outstretched your hand, waiting for him to take it. Yunho swore he felt his heart stop when he locked his fingers with yours. Yunho has never put this much trust in a person before and yet he has found himself being led by you through the front door of an apartment complex and up three flights of stairs before coming to a stop at a door that read 117. “I..”

All the words you had prepared to say had suddenly flown out the window as you slotted the key into the lock. Yunho’s smirk grew as he watched your brain scramble, finding enjoyment in watching you squirm. “And here I thought you had an innocent date planned. But my cheeky little sunshine just wanted me all to herself, hmm?”

“N-no!!” you whipped your head to his direction, leaning against the door with blush riddled on your cheeks. “I-i just wanted to make you a home cooked meal. I-i prefer cooking over going out.” You dipped your head to the ground feeling a little ashamed of your introvertedness. Bringing such a dangerous man home wasn't exactly the thought that crossed your brain when you thought of this evening. In truth you were only thinking about treating him to your cooking, something you took pride in. “I’m not very good with other people.”

He brought his hand to your chin, lifting your face up so he could look at you in the eyes. There was no judgement in his soft gaze, heck even his killer smirk was now only a small simple smile. “As long as I'm with you, we could be doing anything, besides…” He leaned down to give the side of your face a kiss before whispering, “I’m not one for crowds either.”

You gulped, nodding slightly as you turned back to open the door. Yunho’s gaze shifted from yours as soon as he heard the creek of the wood, finally getting a peek inside your little place you call home. Your place was riddled with a vintage, cottagey-like aesthetic. It was like Yunho had stumbled into a fairies hut that was hidden away in the woods.the smell of your salt lamp was strong but not as strong as the calming lavender. He felt like the air around him was giving him the warmest hug. Everything was soft, cute, and dainty… just like you. You lead him deeper into the apartment, letting him take the lead once you get to an archway. It led into the lounge room he found, spotting the emerald couch and various bookshelves encasing a tv cabinet. “Uh..I… make yourself at home, i just got to put away some things and i’ll start to prepare dinner.”

You scurried off before he had the chance to protest, not that he would have that is. He was almost scared to take a seat, his black on black attire completely stuck out to the surroundings. Slicked back hair, expensive accessories, shoes worth more than most of your furniture… He was so out of place. Taking a seat he felt himself sink into the cushions. He was being bombarded by plushies falling onto him as he shifted to get comfortable. Everything smelled like you, sweet, sugary, a hint of freshly baked goods and old books. He couldn’t help him, leaning down he brought his face to a blanket you use regularly when lounging on the couch. He took a deep inhale. ‘God help me’ he'd think to himself as his fingers tangled in the soft fabric, feeling his hips twitch at the thought of your scent round him. Paint him as a pervert, he didn't care, all he cared about in this moment was the feeling of you. Craving, begging to see if he could have you as more.

A loud clunk caught his attention, making him snap out of the haze clogging his mind. He’s never sat up quicker, swiftly moving towards the kitchen to only find you with a pot on the ground and the lid firmly in your hand as if you were using it as a shield. “Whoops…” was all you could mutter, feeling like your nerves had been shot from the loud noise. Yunho scooped up the pot, trying to see if you were okay only to see your face completely red. The same red as the tomatoes on the counter. “I can't stop my hands shaking,”

You tried to laugh it off lightly at how nervous you were with such a man like Yunho being in your house. You were starting to regret bringing him here and wishing you just sucked it up and took him to a restaurant instead. Yunho's free hand placed itself on your upper arm, gently rubbing up and down on your soft skin before giving the flesh a squeeze. He hadn't even realised you were dressed in something different, another sundress, but this one was black with lace accents on the hems. the ribbon holding up your hair matched it accordingly. “Hey It's okay. Just take a deep breath, baby.”

Him calling you all these pet names weren't helping but you obeyed him as best as you could nonetheless. “I just feel a little silly bringing you here. You know since we barely know one another and I don't want you to get the wrong impression…”

“And what kind of impression would you be giving me, hmm?” He didn't mean to come off as teasing but his deep tone caused him to always sound alluring.

“I..uh. That I wanted to just get you to my place to sleep with you. Cause that's not the reason i just really dont l-like—” you stopped rambling as soon as your eyes met Yunho’s. His dark blown out gaze causes your words to get caught in your throat.Yunho had put the pot down a while ago, his spine straight as he stepped closer. You instinctively took a step back and then another before your hips made contact with the counter. Yunho placed a foot on either side of yours and his hands on the marble behind you. You were caged.

"And what if that was the reason? Would it be so bad?" It was like his voice got deeper, more sultry as he took a deep grumbling breath, taking in the scent of your perfume and shampoo.

"I j-just don't want to ruin anything we could have." You whispered, your eyes fluttering close. But Yunho simply stared holes into your flesh, like he could see straight to your soul. This cute little thing in front of him wants more than a hookup? Wants to actually get to know him? He doesn't know if he had just won the jackpot, or this was, in fact, a cruel dream he hadn't woken up to yet.

"Trust me, darling. Nothing you can do will ruin anything between us..." he leaned down to your ear, "Even if it's sex."

You choked when you heard him groan that unruly word. Your hand clapping over your mouth to hide your gasp. Never in your life have you been put into a situation quite sultry as this one. The men you’ve dated were only stereotypical, self-centered or mama’s boys. Worse if they were all three. But Yunho was different. He is no gentleman but yet, if you asked for the moon he would do anything to give it to you. He is not a nice man but if someone were to hurt the old lady that runs the little shoe shop down the street he would not be afraid to kill the fucker who did her wrong. He is not a lover but he’d be damned if he didnt wife you up the moment he could. Yunho was different and that's why you had quickly fallen for the man even if those around you did not approve. “W-what if I were to ask for more tonight. Not just dinner…”

Yunho’s heart stopped, he was sure of it. His body moving closer his lips inches from your own, “I would give anything your pretty little heart desires… all you gotta say is, please.”

You opened your eyes to see his dark ones locked on you. Moving your hand slowly, you snaked them gently around his neck, feeling his soft locks tangle between your fingers. “Please…” His lips locked onto yours, stealing the yelp from your throat. His hands that were gripping firmly on the counter now tugged at your hips, bringing you flushed against him. You could feel his body heat pool where you needed him most. You’ve never been kissed like this before. The softness with pure desperation lingering. It was as if your nerves exploded with little fireworks across your spine as you shiver under him. “Y-yu..y..” He was quick to swallow your cries, using his leg to spread your thighs more so he could easily slip between them.

“If we keep going, We aren't having dinner.” Yunho groaned against your tongue, pulling away with a tug on your bottom lip. He could hear a slight ring in his blushed ears, feeling his whole body shaking, craving to keep going. But he needed you to take the lead. Tell him what you wanted… for now.

“My bedroom is the first door on the left.” Your smile seemed to be contagious as Yunho couldn't help but give you a cheeky little smirk in return. He wasted no time in taking a hold of your lips again, but this time he took a step back, letting you both shuffle ungracefully towards the hallway. You huffed as you almost tripped, giving up with the kiss. You grabbed a hold of his hand that was still tightly against your hip, intertwining your fingers withs his. You both stood there for a moment. Nothing but battered breath and racing heart beats could be heard. It was like the world had ceased to exist around this very moment. His hazy gaze travelled from where you were both connected, up your soft arms, until he reached your lips. They were swollen, puffy and pink. Beautiful… Yunho thought. Everything about you was simply beautiful.

You gave him a soft smile, one he has never seen ever pointed in his direction, and with your hands tightly interlocked, you lead him slowly into your bedroom. A shy grin decorated your features. Something that Yunho's dark stare didn't linger from, as if he needed to map out every curve and twist to keep it perfectly accurate in his mind for years to come. From the intense gaze, you look away and towards your bed.

As soon as you opened the door, Yunho was met with the sweetest scent. It was so much stronger than the one that painted your apartment. Strawberries, vanilla, and brown sugar. The room wasn't much different from the rest of your place. It was neat, tidy. But there were blankets and plushies galore on your bed. Like a little nest to keep you safe from the outside world. The bedding was a forest green that matched the similar greens on your desk that sat in the corner. You, of course, had a bookshelf in here, too, filled with a number of different kinds of novels. Yunho reminded himself to bring up the one you recommended to him when you first met.

"Cute..." Was all he spoke, making your red face become even more hotter. You turned back to him, seeing his gaze glued to you, eyeing you with a devilish smirk. "...Just like you.”

Yunho lowered himself to place his lips on yours in another heated kiss. His hands wandered lower and lower, making your own fly to grab his shoulders. He backs you up slowly, step by step. Your hazy mind was too focused on the deepening kiss to notice any movement. It wasn't until you were suddenly startled by the edge of the bed hitting your thighs that you pulled away from the man in front of you. Yunho didn't hesitate to push you back gently. The little yelp that escaped your throat would have sounded pathetic if in a different scenario, but Yunho couldn't help but groan in response to the sound. Before you could protest anything, Yunho quickly stifled any noise as he followed you to capture your lips once more in a fierce kiss.

Teeth clashed against each other, and tongues danced like there was no tomorrow. It was like Yunho couldn't get enough of you. He needed to taste you in every way possible. The whimper that slipped from him as his mouth ventures lower to your jaw, biting and lapping at your skin. Then the same is done to your neck, your collarbone, all the way to the part of your breasts that was exposed by your sundress. You gasp, tipping your head back onto the plushies behind you while your hands loosen from the fabric on his shoulders.

Yunho suddenly stopped, his dark gaze looking up at your flushed expression. You're as red as a tomato with glossed over eyes, and God is it a delicious look on you.

"Such a pretty little thing." He groans, his voice all but a hushed whisper, slowly snaking his hands to your knees, playing with the lacy hem of your dress. "May I, Sunshine?" You nodded while biting your lip, a little too enthusiastically, shifting a little side to side. You tried to ease some of the ache between your legs.

“Use your words, Darling,” He grins, his touch unmoving.

“Please Yunho,” you finally squeak out. He shifts his body lower until he is snuggly between your legs. The sight of him looking at you through his lashes while his tongue coaks a thin layer of spit on his lips was enough to make you wet. You shiver as his large hands run from your knee, up your thigh, under your dress before returning back to your knee, tantalisingly. As if marvelling at what was before him. What you were gifting him. He does it again, this time letting his finger tips linger a little bit longer on your inner thigh before pulling away completely, leaving a thrilling chill to run down your spin. “I need you…”

His ghosting hand places itself back on the soft parts of your thighs, squeezing as he heard those three words slip from your pretty mouth. “You need me, sunshine? Need me to take the ache away? Tell me what you need, baby.”

“I want you to taste me…” You felt shy whispering such filth but Yunho on the other hand, simply raised an eyebrow at your daring comment. It was something so daring it brought a smile to his older features. His little sunshine wasn’t innocent and he was slowly drawing the darkness out. His thumbs hooked on the edge of the dress hesitating before pulling the fabric up, agonisingly slow.

“Hmm, I knew my girl had a dark side.” He spoke with a lightly chuckle escaping his reddened lips from him biting them in anticipation. My girl…those words played in your head on loop, like your new favourite song. My girl. Argh you would never get over him saying that. He hikes your dress up higher to reveal your cute purple panties with a deep wet patch on them. You’re soaked right through. It was like he couldn't help himself, taking his pointer finger he pressed firmly on the patch watching the fabric stick to your core. He couldn't help but groan, “All this talk and here you are…dripping.”

Yunho dragged you underwear down your thighs. The cool air that crept from your bedroom window immediately hits the warmth of your core below. His fingers snatch the fabric clean off your legs, flicking them off to the side somewhere before his lustful gaze finally sets on the prize he had been yearning for ever since he first met you.

He swipes his thumb over your aching cunt, collecting some slick with his finger. It sent a jolt through you, your thighs twitching without your control. He coated his fingers more, watching your juices spill down his digit onto his knuckles. He does it once more for good measure, this time rubbing over your clit to earn himself a delicious whine from you. You grip at the bedsheets, widening your legs further for him unconsciously as he continues to play and rub at your clit just right. "Fuck...Yun."

"That's it sunshine, feeling good?" He chuckled watching you flinch as he pressed harshly on your clit. He snaked closer before his face was inches from you. He blew onto your wet lips, causing a gasp to leave you, but the gasp quickly turned into a high-pitched whine as you suddenly felt the warmth of his mouth upon you. He begins to lap up your pussy all the while still harshly circling your clit, moans escaping your parted lips. The noises turned into something desperate when the thumb was replaced by his firm tongue, pressing down and licking at your swollen bud, again and again. Yunho groaned against you, bucking his hips into the mattress at a stuttering pace. You took notice of his whine, feeling another one while he ground his hips just right against the sheets.

"Please, yuyu, t-that. I..ah."

You've never had any man pay this much attention to you before, let alone find enjoyment in eating you out. You can feel yourself becoming absolutely soaked just under the sensation of his mouth. Your legs quiver and shake, unable to control your movements as you feel yourself tip closer to the edge.

You try to take a deep breath. Feeling yourself already so close has made you feel slightly embarrassed. But as he sunk his long finger inside of your cunt, all the nerves seemingly washed away. Another one slid in easily and "Nh-ah YUNHO!" He curls them upwards, right to the spot that sends a spark of electricity crackling through your core.

He begins a steady rhythm along with his tongue continuously lapping your clit like he was a starved man taking his fill of a goddesses nectar and you're unable to control the noises and pants that fall from your throat. You grip one hand into the sheets as flies to grab the back of your thigh. lifting your leg up further to give him more access. You need more. You craved more. You've never felt this good before, and your being was demanding to be selfish for once.

He added a third finger as if he knew you needed something more. It made your head slam into the pillow behind you, turning to almost shout into the soft cushioning, muffling yourself for your poor neighbours. He works up a good rhythm, finding what buttons to push, succeeding in getting to know what your body wants. Groans from him and other lustfulled sniffles fill the room, as your thighs clamp down around the mob boss's head, keeping him where he is.

He could barely breath as your hips buck against his soaked face. But he couldn't care less. In fact, he would be happy if he died like this. In between the legs of his best girl, his pretty little sunshine. You felt like you were about to explode but the euphoria didn't last long as Yunho used his free hand that had been holding onto your outer thigh to pull your legs apart, holding them in place so he could sit up slightly. "You close, baby? Do you need to cum?"

"Yes!" You answered in a choked whine needing to feel his mouth on you once again.

"Yes, what sunshine?" Normally, he would be one for punishment, and given you kept breaking rules, he was most certainly craving to punish you. But it decided to let it slide this one. He has more than enough time to mould you and shape you into his perfect angel later. But for now, he'll see what type of filth he can draw from you.

"Yes, please, Yunho." Your glossed eyes finally opened for the first time in what felt like years, your tears clouding most of your vision but you could still see the darkness in Yunho's gaze and how his chin was dripping with slick. Your slick.

He drove his fingers deeper, his knuckles brushing your walls as he slammed his digits in a calculated thrusts. Harsh, slow, and powerful. You become louder, needier, and you can’t get your breathing under control. You’re teetering right on the edge. Ready. Right there and then...

He stops.

His glistening face had the cheekiest, wet grin across it like he felt proud of edging you. You on the other hand looked almost shocked panting louding, heart beating in your ears with flush brilliant red cheeks. You lick your lips as you run your hand over your mouth before raking it through your slightly dishevelled hair. Your eyes grew narrow as you stared at the man between your shaking legs. He holds your thighs apart so you can’t clamp them shut to try and stop the intense tingling between, causing you to huff in frustration.

“Don’t need to ruin the fun now, princess,” he inquired as he stood up off the bed, towering over your weak looking frame. The moon light that was pooling in the room caused his shadow to engulf you, covering your body in his darkness. He looked powerful. He looked dangerous. Like the man everyone warned you about. The feared mafia leader of the Destiny clan. He pulls you by your ankles, yanking you until you were sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand gripped the back of your neck gently bringing your face to his so he could kiss you. But you kept your hand over your mouth, your other hand coming to place on his chest, holding him firmly in face with a hidden smirk.

“You are a cruel man.” You gestured to him not letting you finish, but in truth, the word cruel hung in the air like thick tension. Cruel. A word he was sadly used to. But not in this kind of way. It almost delighted him. You felt your heart jump as he raised his brow, coming closer so that he’s only a hair’s breadth away from the back of your hand. His dark eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail.

“Hmm why? You taste so sweet,” He bit his lip, “I want you to have a taste?” He mimics what you asked prior. You swallowed thickly with wide eyes nodding shyly. Slowly, you moved your hand away as he paused for a moment, just to see your flustered face once more. “Cute…”

He dives in, kissing you, lapping at your lips. His teeth nibbling, and his teeth clashing against yours. You could taste the muskiness of yourself on his tongue, the sweetness that lingered. You deepen the kiss, allowing his hand on the back of your neck to hold it still in place, giving up any power to give him everything of your being. Your hands shift to his shirt, catching the hem between your finger tips before tugging at the fabric. He seemed to get the gist as he pulled away for only a mere couple of seconds to pull his shirt off, snatching your lips against his once more.

Your fingers trace his body with your sight, feeling all the bumps of scar tissue and muscle. More proof of his status, of who he really was. But yet you still couldn’t pull yourself away. You’re not sure if you ever will. “Yu..” You huffed against his lips, “Yun I..”

He pulls away, letting his nose rub against yours while his eyes stay tightly sealed, taking in the moment like he was never going to be able to get it again. “What is it, my sunshine.”

“I need you… please.” You voice was barely above a whisper, only you and him being able to ever hear your little plea. His smile. His addicting smile made the butterflies in your tummy swoon. His hand that was firmly on your neck slid down until it found the zipper to your dress, playing with the metal between his digits.

“Can you stand?” He gently asked, waiting for you to nod a small ‘yes’. He helped you stand, the backs of your thighs still tightly against the edge of the bed, as if they were helping you stand. He finally pulled away, letting your eyes wander down his toned, damaged chest. He had tattoos up both arms, one of his right peck and one faintly sticking out on the top of his low slacks. You licked your swollen lips unconsciously as you gawked at him. Yunho on the other hand couldn't help but grin sinisterly at your reaction, delicately grabbing the zipper on your dress, he unzipped it until the straps of your dress loosened and fell from your shoulders.

The fabric pooled at your chest, your arms tightly holding it in place. “I…”

“Are you okay, love?” Your eyes snapped to his deep chocolate ones when he called you ‘love’, feeling your nerves crackling like fireworks. He tilted his head to the slide marginally, his smirk fading to a simple smile but his eyes never dimming their darkness. His hands gripped tightly onto his belt, unlooping it before throwing it somewhere in the room. He had made you watch his every move as he unzipped his slack unhurriedly. He could see the darkness begin to cloud your colourful eyes, your pupils growing large as the fabric fell to the floor, leaving him in his boxers. “Your turn.”

His voice somehow got deeper. His fingers gliding along your goosebumped skin. You took a deep inhale through your nose before letting your dress drop, pooling at your ankles. "Fuck..."

"Yun..." You dont even know why you called his name, but he was immediately on you, his one hand resting on your bare hip while the other effortlessly unhooked your bra in one quick snap, watching your plump breast spring free. He almost bent you in half when he brought his face to your tits, taking a deep breath, smelling your perfume on your sweaty skin. His tongue licked along the valley, groaning as he latched his mouth to your left nipple. "Fuck yuyu, nargh."

Your hands tangled in his hair as you feel back, dragging him with you as you fell on the bed with an 'oof'. He used his strong arms to throw your body upwards until your head hit the pillows, not leaving your breasts alone. He painted every part of skin he could with beautiful purple marks. Neading your chest, tugging on your nipples and wetting every surface. You could lay here and suck your tits for hours if you let him. But he knew you needed more. He needed more. Feel what it's like to be inside you.

"Such perfect tits. A pretty body. Everything about you is perfect sunshine. Hmm. My perfect girl." His praise made you whimper, a tear creeping out the corner of your eyes. You've never had someone say such kind things to you, praised you the way Yunho has been. For a cruel man, he was the kindest person you've ever met.

"Yu..yunho, please. I need you inside me." You whispered, tugging his head up by his hair so his lips were inches from your own. He gave you a small peck before sitting up slightly so he could wrap his legs around his waist, sliding the tip of his cock along your folds.

“Whatever my girl wants, she’ll get.” He sunk inside your soaked cunt inch by inch, bit by bit, until he bottomed you out. He shivered at the feling of your warm walls clenching tightly around him. His eyes squeezing shut and face burring in your neck. He could feel the coil in his gut already tug. he was going to cum any second and he felt embarrassed how quick you’ve made him feel like he had died and gone to heaven. “Fuck sunshine, you feel so nice. You’re pussy is sucking me in ngah.”

“Yunho please move.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, grinding upwards onto his public bone, feeling the friction ease the ache only just. It was like a switch went off when Yunho heard your little plea, snapping his hips into yours are such a pace it caused the air to be snatched out of your lungs. If you werent being fucked by the inch of your life you would of felt sorry towards your neightbours as a string of cries, swears and pet names bounced off the thin walls of your bedroom. Yunho drug his nails in the soft flesh of your waist, surely creating deep indents that you’d been flaunting for days to come.

You’ve never felt such a connection to another person before let alone a man. You were brought up with the idea that love didn’t exsit. That it was only a dream that settled in the books you’ve read. But the way Yunho made you feel, the way he made you want to feel. It was like you were in those books you’ve read.. “Yu..Yu I—”

“It okay baby. Let go. I wanna feel you cum around my cock.” He sat up just slightly grabbing both of your wrists he held your hands above your head, lacing his fingers harshly around your appendage. Bending one of your legs over his shoulder, he jackhammered into you at a sped that was just what you needed, feeling his waist grind on your clit, giving you the right amount of simulation to let go. “That’s it, darling.”

Your foggy eyes, riddled with tears, stared up at Yunho’s never leaving his gaze. He watch every detail your face made as you came crashing down from your high. The way you brows cross, you mouth hung only ajar and savlia dripping down your chin. You were the hottest thing he had ever laid eyes on, he was certain. “Fuck, sunshine, can I come inside you. Can I feel this pretty pussy up?”

His eyes begun to flutter closed as he felt a rush of need spill down his spine. You whimpered out a daring ‘yes please’ making him bust his load deep inside you, coaking your walls before some of his cum leaked out around his cock that stilled in you. Clouds daced around you, the softness of air tickling your sweaty flesh. Every nerve in your body was on an all time high and it was all thanks to the dangerous man above you. Yunho had let go of your wrist, kissing each one tendly. You simply lazily watched him, basking in the moment, never wanting it to end.

-♡

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darkbluekies · 25 days ago

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Stupid people

Yandere!mafia!oc x reader

Summary: a number sends Silas a picture of darling that sends him into rage

Warnings: murder, mentions of NSFW, Silas lashes out towards darling, guilt, slight indication of a character asking if it was consensual (it was — the deed, not the pictures), pictures taken without permission, punching and kicking between legs

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: to clarify, the photos are taken AFTER the deed, not during!

There's only two people Silas likes enough to let them be in his office for more than asking a question — you and SIC.

“Stupid people are my favorite kind of people”, SIC says from the couch, eyes glued onto his phone. “Some idiot here tried to jump from a roof.”

“If only our enemies did that so that i didn't have to go kill them”, Silas smirks.

“Since when were we that lucky?”

A notification on his own phone caught his attention. Silas picks it up and unlocks it, seeing that the notification is from an unsaved number. He clenches his jaw. Photos. It takes a second for him to realize what — who — is in these two photos. He can recognise that back among millions. He sees that back every night, always holding it close to his chest.

“Motherfucker!” he shouts and rises from his chair in a swift.

“What?” SIC asks quickly, looking up from his screen.

Silas slams his phone down on the floor. It shatters and explodes in every direction. SIC jumps up from the couch.

“Woah, what’s going on?” he asks quickly.

Silas can't reply. His heart is hammering in his throat. If he tries to speak, it'll jump out. His entire body is shaking. He's been mad before, but nothing compares to what he feels when you are involved.

“Silas?” SIC asks. “Sit down.”

He presses Silas down in the chair again.

“What happened?” he asks. “Give me a real fucking answer this time.”

“Some disgusting little bitch sent me photos of Y/N”, he spits out, growing angrier by every word. “Naked, in a bed. I think you can figure out the rest yourself.”

SIC blinks. “Shit. Who?”

Silas gestures manically towards the broken phone. “I didn't write the number down before I fucking smashed it!”

“Alright. I'll take out the sim card and put it in my phone. I can find out.”

“Don't look at the photos, got that? I'm not joking. I will beat you up if I find out that you've looked at the photos.”

“Don't worry, boss, I won't.”

Silas sighs in frustration. He storms out of his office, up the stairs and throws up the door to your shared bedroom. You're nowhere to be found.

“Y/N!” he shouts angrily.

You come out of the bathroom, looking bewildered. A fear grows on your face when you realize how mad he is.

“What's wrong?” you ask quickly.

“Who the fuck have taken pics of you while having sex?!” he shouts. “Who is the low creature that has pictures of you?!”

Your eyes widen.

“What?” you ask. “Silas-”

He moves closer and you can't describe his demeanor in any other way than threatening. You stumble backwards, finally reaching the wall. Even when he's mad, he'd never do things to make you scared of him, never show you the side he shows his men and enemies. But this time, he doesn't seem to care about holding back. You get to see what everyone else sees.

“Whoever the little fucker is, I will shove that camera of his so far up his ass it'll puncture a lung, do you understand that?” Silas spits, face mere centimeters from your face.

“Silas, I-”, you stutter.

Silas grabs the perfume standing on the shelf beside you and sends it flying across The room, breaking against the wall. You watch on in complete horror. Not even in the basement is he this violent, not around you.

Behind him, you see SIC run into the room, stopping in the doorway. He watches on with wide eyes.

“Who is it?” he spits before raising his voice. “Give me the name of the worthless little creature! I'll kill him!”

“Silas, I don't know!” you shout loudly in order to be heard over his own shouting. Tears blurry your vision as silence fills the room. “I d-don't know, I swear! I have no knowledge of a-any pictures taken of me. Please don’t be mad at me, I don’t know anything, I s-swear …”

You have wrapped your arms around yourself. You look so incredibly small. And helpless. He feels as if someone has punched him right in the stomach. He can't bring himself to shout at you. The fire in his eyes seems to blow out, leaving his eyes as dark as they should. He breathes heavily, feeling empty and painfully aware of everything around him — every little sound, movement. He finally realizes what's going on.

“Fuck”, he breathes out in a whisper and pulls you into his arms, into a tight embrace. “I'm so sorry.”

You sob into his shoulder, voice getting muffled in his white shirt. Silas hugs you as if his life depends on it.

“Baby, I didn't mean to shout at you”, he whispers. “I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at that disgusting filth. Not you, do you understand?”

He pulls you back and covers your face in apologetic kisses, caressing your cheeks and wiping your tears.

“Are you okay?” he asks, grabbing your face and forcing you to look him in the eyes.

You nod slightly and sniffle. Still shaking, but not mortified.

“What pictures?” you ask with an unsteady voice.

Silas looks at SIC.

“Did you get the number?” he asks.

“No, I didn't have time to move over the sim card before I heard the glass shattering.”

Silas clears his throat. His ears turn red.

“Go retrieve the number and then come back”, he says.

SIC nods and walks out. Silas turns to you. He cups your cheeks and kisses your lips carefully.

“Sorry”, he says again.

“It’s … okay”, you mumble.

It doesn't seem to register for him. He has a guilty look in his black eyes.

“Silas … what pictures?” you ask again, dreading the answer yet needing to know.

“There’s nothing to worry about, I shouldn’t have told you. I will take care of it, okay?”

“You got so upset about it … something must be wrong. Have someone taken pics of me while I’ve … had sex?”

Silas can’t tell you. He knows how distraught you’ll be.

“No, not while you had … after you were done … I don’t know”, he says. “I could have misunderstood the pictures. I broke my phone right after seeing them.” He notices how you give him an unsure gaze as he mentions his phone. “I get worked up quickly.”

You sniffle. Silas wipes your tears again and hugs you even tighter, resting his cheek on the top of your head. He feels like a complete fool, how could he slip up like that? He would never shout at you, never make you feel threatened. For fuck sake, you’re supposed to seek shelter and comfort in him!

“Are you sure that you’re okay?” Silas asks.

“Mhm”, you mumble. “Just shaking.”

“I can tell.” His embrace tightens. “Let’s sit down, alright?”

He moves you to the bed and sits down with you beside him.

“What have you done today?” he asks and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“I’ve been watching some shows”, you reply.

“Which one?”

“Some cartoon … I don’t remember the name.”

“Do you think I’d like it?”

You give him a small smile and shake your head. “No, it’s too cheesy for you.”

Silas smiles. “What type of fucking stereotype is that? Show me and I’ll decide for myself.”

You reach for the tablet and show him a few minutes of the cartoon. He leans onto you, wrapping himself around you like a boa constrictor.

The door opens and SIC returns with his phone in his hand.

“Got it”, he says and walks over to the bed. “Y/N, take a look and-”

Silas slaps his hand away.

“Are you fucking out of your mind?” he scolds him. “You’re not showing them those!”

SIC holds his phone out of Silas’s reach.

“I am”, SIC replies.

Silas stands up. The animalistic, lredatory light is back in his eyes. You don’t doubt that he would punch him.

“I am going to show these pictures to Y/N to confirm that they remember the sex happening”, SIC explains sharply. “Because if they don’t, we might have a worse crime on our hands.”

Silas doesn’t reply. He seems to think, and seems to consider whether he should punch the man or not. He nods in defeat. SIC gives you the phone and you take a mortified look at the two pictures.

“Do you recognise where you are in these two pictures?” SIC asks. “Do you know when this was? Do you have memories of it?”

You look at the pictures, fearing that you’re not going to recognise the location or remember what happened … or who you were with.

“I know when and where this is”, you say. “It was five years ago. I remember it.”

“You're sure you remember it?” SIC asks.

“Yes … but I didn't know that he took pics …”

“Okay, the fucker is dead”, Silas decides.

“What was his name?” SIC asks.

“‘Eric’ something”, you say. “I met him at a party. He was nice, or so i thought, and-”

Silas runs a hand through his black hair and sighs.

“I guess that he wasn't that nice”, you mumble.

“Pricks like that are never nice. They're just polite enough to lure people to get what they want. Who knows how many innocent people's photos he has on his hard drive?”

“Silas, can you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“If you manage to find him-”

“Not if; when.”

“When you manage to find him, give him an extra punch from me, will you?”

Silas smiles. “I'll give him tenfolds.”

Finding him is easier than the poor fellow had anticipated. Silas pities him. He's either too stupid to know who he is or has a death wish. He can't decide which one is worse.

“God, you're even uglier than i imagined”, Silas scoffs as he sees the man for the first time.

He's held up by two of his men, body pounded with punches beyond recognizable, but they've left his face untouched. That's for Silas to ruin.

“You're even uglier than your mess of a body”, he says, grabbing the man's face, tuning it carelessly. “We haven't even touched this yet. What did you gain from this? Not a lot, I see. I mean, you're here, in my basement, about to be killed. Can't say that I understand your intentions.”

“Did you like the pictures?” Eric asks, voice drowning in painful moans.

“‘Did i like the pictures?’” Silas repeats, appalled by the man's lack of remorse. “I don't need your pitiful pictures. I get the full act from whatever angle I want.”

It shouldn't make him cocky, but bragging about it always fills him with pride.

“Give me his phone”, he orders.

One of his men digs up the phone from Eric's pocket. He forces him to unlock it.

“Do you take these types of pictures often?” Silas asks, eyes narrowing as he scrolls past hundreds of women sleeping in beds. “What even are these?”

“I take a picture of the woman after our session, after she's fallen asleep”, Eric replies, “as a trophy.”

“As a-”, he cuts himself off. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Silas hits him with all his might. Eric's head shoots backwards, his neck acting like a jojo to get it back. Blood runs down from his nose.

“Delete all the pictures”, he tells SIC and gives him the phone. “From the phone, any cloud, any other hard-drive. These pictures will never be seen by anyone ever again.”

“Yes, boss”, SIC replies and takes the phone.

He disappears up the stairs. Silas turns to Eric.

“How did you get my number?” he asks. “And, when you got it, didn't you check to see who it belonged to? You're pretty stupid.”

“I just know that the number belonged to Y/N’s new boyfriend”, Eric replies.

“Husband.”

It shouldn't fill him with such pride at a moment like this, yet it does.

“You're going to die now anyway, so it doesn't matter if I tell you my name”, Silas says.

One of his men gives him a knife with a long shiny blade.

“Boss”, SIC says from the top of the stairs. “Y/N’s here.”

Silas hurries to give the knife back and gestures for him to hide it.

“I’ll come upstairs”, he says.

Before he has time to move, you've bursted past SIC. He tries to grab at you, but you're already half down the stairs.

“You absolute worthless piece of shit”, you spit.

Silas raises his eyebrows.

Oh?

You run right over to Eric and slap him. Silas stands stunned. It takes him a few moments to gather himself and stop looking like a fool. He turns to the stairs where SIC stands, holding his hand over his face, laughing silently. He folds and has to hold onto the wall.

“How could you take such pictures?” you ask him. “What gave you the right?”

Silas grabs your shoulder to pull you away from him, but you shake him off.

“It's not like I took pics while we had sex”, Eric says, voice sounding even more painful.

Silas smirks. He can already tell that'll happen by the way your eyes widen. And he won't stop it. Won't even try to. You hit the man again and kick him between the legs. He tries to curl up, but is being held up by Silas’s men.

“Okay, okay”, Silas says and grabs your shoulders, pulling you backwards. “Enough of that. SIC, take Y/N to the bedroom and make sure they stay there.”

SIC grabs you out of his arms. Silas grabs the knife once more.

“What should we start with?” he asks, spinning the knife. “Your hands? Arms? Legs? Decide, coward.”

SIC forces you upstairs before he has the time to cut off any body parts.

“Let me go!” you mutter.

“Just stay quiet until we get up to the bedroom”, SIC says. “Nice shot you got, by the way. I know it caught Silas by surprise. That’s hard to do, you know.”

“He deserves more.”

“And Silas will give him that, don’t you worry. That is not your job. You got two punches and one kick in, that’s enough.”

WHen you try to run back downstairs, he picks you up over his shoulder and continues upstairs.

“Don’t give me more trouble”, he sighs.

SIC walks into the bedroom and places you down on the floor before barricading the door with his body to make sure you’re not making a run for it.

“The pictures are gone”, SIC says. “All of them — of you and of other people.”

“How many were there?”

“Hundreds. All taken when they had fallen asleep afterwards. He kept them like trophies.”

The door opens before he’s done with his sentence. Silas walks in, finally looking pleased.

“Dona already?” SIC asks.

“I got impatient”, he mutters and closes the door. “Little thing, are you okay?”

You nod. Silas hugs you, kissing the top of your head. He still feels awful about shouting at you. He squeezes you even tighter.

“Thank you”, you say quietly. “You helped not only me but also a lot of other people. That’s a good thing.”

His heart clenches. He has apologized a million times and you have forgiven him … but he can’t seem to forgive himself. It all happened so quickly, yet it lingers in him.

“Of course”, he says. “Scumbags need to be taken care of the right way. I kind of pitied the man. He must have been extremely stupid to let me know about him. Good that he was stupid though.”

Thinking about him makes him furious once more, but he reminds himself that it’s over. He has gotten his punishment … and Silas has saved people. Innocent people should never be punished for crimes they didn’t commit.

No one will ever see any those pictures again. No one will have to deal with that man ever again.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere mafia #yandere fics

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empressofthewind · 19 days ago

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what's funny to me about Death Note is how casually the authors will drop the most insane lore you've ever heard and then just move on as if it never happened. like here's a girl whose parents were killed in front of her and who also would have been murdered by a crazed fan if he hadn't mysteriously dropped dead before her eyes. yes we WILL proceed to call her stupid and annoying for the rest of the series and never address how this affected her. btw did we ever mention that L is an orphan who has been working as a detective since he was 10? and that the orphanage where he grew up is now dedicated to raising child prodigies on the principle that their entire existence is worthless if they can't live up to L's standard? no? well he's dead now so here are his successors. yeah one of them joined the mafia at 17 and commits violent crimes because he believes it's the only way to prove that he's worth anything. yeah the other one had to take on the only case L couldn't solve entirely from scratch at age 13 with no prior detective experience. no the implications of this won't be addressed. also one of the new anti-Kira investigators has a vendetta against Kira because someone close to her was killed by him. will that ever be explored in canon, you ask? well you're not going to believe this-

#also the epilogue???? with that girl who looks SO much like misa #like it's never actually addressed what happens to her so obviously that's the assumption #but no! it's just some other girl #jhsjghsjdgsg like on one hand the ambiguity is fantastic for fanfic & meta potential but also it does drive me a little nuts #death note #ramblings

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osachiyo · 2 months ago

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" LEMME HIT YOU WITH THAT DUMB DICK ! "

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — dazai, chuuya, jouno (+ tecchou), oda, sigma x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — [n]sfw content, somnophilia, these are random scenarios ok don't come at me, degradation, humiliation, doggystyle, rough, getting caught, pussy slapping, s.ex at work, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, piv, unprotected s.ex (be careful babes), praise, creampie + etc • this was originally supposed to be their fav places to fuck but i had to scrap that bc i lost motivation :') anyway, happy reading and i hope you enjoy !! not proofread soz babes

ps. reblog to show your favorite writers support, they're greatly appreciated ! <3

⁰¹ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 — fucking you in a storage room of the agency

This man is a sex fiend, so of course he would love to fuck you literally anywhere anytime. Though he can't lie, being balls deep in your juicy little cunt at work — risking both of your dignities and possibly your jobs has him harder than a fucking rock.

"Osamu— what if we g-get caugh— mmh-!" you let out a muffled moan as dazai delivered a particularly harsh thrust into your cunt, effectively shutting you up. "Relaaaax, sweet thing — almost no one c-comes here — fuck, you're so damn tight," Dazai panted into your ear, hot breath making a chill run down your spine — back arching even further against his chest.

"God, you're so good f'me — so warm 'n right, fuck!" each word was rushed, dripping with lust — the desperation in his voice made you wanna look at his pretty face, pussy clenching just from imagining how good he'd look with his hair disheveled — his usual doe eyes narrowed and a deep blush covering his skin, sweat dripping down his forehead and making his hair stick to his forehead —

Your train of thought got cut off abruptly when Dazai slapped his hand over your mouth, before his hushed voice reached your ears, "shh, stay still f'me, sweetheart."

You were about to question it when you heard the president's voice from just behind the door. The door of the room you were currently getting your back blown out in.

"Yes, I keep hearing strange noises from this one room in particular," you heard fukuzawa's muffled voice — the thought of your boss catching you in the act made your pussy flutter around Dazai’s length, making the brunette grunt in response.

"Are you trying to get us caught, darl'?" Dazai hissed into your ear — oops, you unintentionally clenched down again upon hearing the keys jingle from the other side of the door. Luckily Dazai was ready for it this time, and managed to bite down on your shoulder before he could get a sound out.

"W-what do we do, 'samu? He’s gonna come in!" you whisper-yelled, panic settling in your bones when you saw the doorknob rattle — but before he could unlock the door fully, you heard the high pitched voice of another worker, "president! an important client has come to personally see you."

"Hm, alright. looks like i'll have to tell someone else to take a look in this room later. Let’s go,"

You let out a breath of relief once the footsteps faded away, leaving you both in complete silence until dazai decided to speak up —

"You clenched reaaal hard when he was about to open the door — don't tell me you actually wanted us to get caught, did you, naughty girl?"

⁰² 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 — having you suck him off in his office

Chuuya's job as an executive of the mafia is stressful, to say the least. Not to mention some of the idiotic workers not doing their job right never fails to make his blood pressure go especially high — his anger issues doesn't help his case at all. But what does help is his sweet sweet girlfriend giving him some... 'under the table service' at work.

Chuuya's fist slammed against the hardwood desk, a loud 'thwack!' echoing in the room,

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" he sneered at the poor man in front of him — who couldn't help but flinch at seeing his boss so angry at him failing to complete a simple report.

Truth be told, Chuuya wasn’t really that mad at the worker, for the report at least — he was just.. super on edge from you deep-throating his cock under the goddamn table. He struggled to think properly, and the poor worker interrupting his private moment with you really ticked him off. Can you really blame him though?

How could he think straight with your skilled tongue swirling around his glossy tip so sinfully — fucking tease. Oh and the way you peered up at him through lowered lashes, your eyes glazed with a dreamy haze.

It all made his head spin like crazy.

“-ir, I can re-do it if you would like me to..” Chuuya’s train of thought unfortunate got cut off short, blue eyes snapping back to the man before him — right, the report.

“A-ahem — alright. Have it finished by 6 pm.”

Chuuya hated the way his voice cracked, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands as he tried not to moan out loud when you fully took him nose deep in that right, sweet little throat— shamelessly rutting your hips into his crazy expensive slacks, rubbing your juices all over the smooth, polished material.

You felt Chuuya’s fingers entangle themselves in your hair immediately after hearing the ‘click’ of the door shutting — the guy must’ve finally left.

You couldn’t help but gasp as you were pulled up from the cold, hard floor — and being shoved onto the desk instead.

You felt your pussy throb in your lacy panties as Chuuya spread your legs open — two fingers pressing and prodding at your cunt before sliding the flimsy material to the side,

“Now, let’s get into the real fun, shall we darl’?”

⁰³ 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐎 — teaching tecchou how to eat you out properly

Jouno was a good friend. Even though he might've had a tendency to be a little harsh and.. sadistic at times, he wasn't a bad person. I mean, he had to be atleast a decent person for teaching his inexperienced co-worker how to eat pussy — specifically, his own girlfriend's.

"No, not like that you fucking idiot —" Jouno grumbled, pulling Tecchou's head off of your cunt as he blinked in confusion like a lost puppy, sticky strings of your arousal still attached to his lips. "What do you mean? She's clearly enjoying it.."

"I mean that you can do better. You do want to make her feel fuckin' amazing, don't you?" Jouno raised a questioning brow. "Well, of cour—" "Then start acting like it."

A gasp left your honeyed lips when Tecchou's face was pushed back against your cunt — hot tongue working with even more fervor as he ate you out like he had been starving for days.

"Oh fuck — feels so g-good, sai," you whimpered out — head thrown back and your tongue threatening to loll out from the sheer pleasure the man between your legs was giving you. "Yeah, baby? Feels good when Tecchou eats that sweet cunt out reaaaaal good, huh?" Jouno's tone was condescending — his lips curled up into a cocky smirk.

“Y’smell so sweet - taste so sweet -” Tecchou's voice was low and dripping with need — your pussy throbbed from just how desperate he sounded.

"A-ah shit - can feel you throbbin' on my tongue, princess —" he groaned, tongue flattening against your clit as he shook his head side to side.

You babbled out Jouno’s name like a prayer — all while the man between your legs worshipped your cunt like it was his god, pink tongue repeatedly flicking your clit, making you see stars as your hole stretched around two of his slim fingers.

“Please — wanna c-cum s’ba- mmh!- ,” you let out a strangled noise as a harsh slap landed on your soaked pussy, clit throbbing as you threw your head back once more. “Fuckin’ slut, so damn eager to cum on another man’s tongue in front of your boyfriend, hmm?”

“Don’t — ah fuck, squeezin’ so tight ‘round my fingers, baby - don’t be so mean, Jouno,” Tecchou threw a side glare to the man next to him, which only earned a shrug from said man, “quit talking and enjoy the meal, dumbass. She’s close.”

And enjoy the meal he did — lapping up every single drop of your sweet juices so enthusiastically you’d think that he hadn’t eaten in days.

⁰⁴ 𝐎𝐃𝐀 — morning sex with him

Mornings with your husband, Oda Sakunosuke, were sweet, blissful and filled with love. Sometimes he'd surprise you with breakfast in bed, it's the least he can do considering everything that you do for him, is what he says. But sometimes — you crave him instead of the delicious food.

“My pretty girl,” Oda smiled sleepily, moving some of your hair out of your face to admire your effortless beauty — blissfully unaware to how his deep morning voice made your heart flutter in your chest, and your pussy throb with need.

You grinned back, scooting closer into his arms as you gazed into his deep brown eyes, “pretty enough to fuck?”

Oda raised a questioning eyebrow, full lips curling into a grin, "oh? that's the game we're playing, love?" Strong arms wrapped around your bare figure, the marks of last night still fresh on your skin — a reminder to how he fucked you dumb on his cock only a few hours prior.

You felt your face burn from the memories of last night rushing back into you — god, you two were insatiable - you're sure Oda fucked you in every single position in the book, and it did nothing but make you crave him more.

"Still with me, darling?" he lightly tapped your cheek, snapping you back to the present. You nodded, a gasp falling from your lips as big, calloused hands found themselves groping at your tits, pinching at your cute nipples as he pressed open mouthed kisses on your neck — his stubble tickling the sensitive skin there.

"O-oda—"

"shhh, baby — lemme do all the work, yeah?"

And that's how you ended up with your face pressed into the pillows — silken bedsheets tangled around your bodies as Oda fucked his fat girth into your sopping cunt nice 'n deep.

A large hand was pressing your back into the meanest arch ever — strong hips slamming against the fat of your plush ass with each deep thrust, thick mushroom tip prodding at your g-spot - making you bleat out your husband's name pitifully. Oda only pushed your head deeper into the soft pillows — clearly too lost in the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him.

He watched his cock slipped in and out of your pussy so easily — your slick covering his balls down to his thighs. Oda groaned deeply in his throat as he watched a creamy ring form around the base of his cock — your cunt sucking him in so eagerly that he almost thought it hurt for you to let him go.

You let out a particularly loud moan as Oda's cock hit that one spot in you — you could only bite down on the pillow as your eyes shut closed, pussy slobbering shamelessly all over his length.

"Oh? Did you like— argh! - t-that spot, sweet girl?"

⁰⁵ 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 — fucking you in your sleep

Sigma was a busy man — with running the sky casino and being part of the decay of angels didn't leave too much alone time with just him and you — especially for some.. intimacy. You knew he needed to relieve himself someway — all that workload while being pent up as fuck certainly wasn't good for him. Plus, you have been craving him as well.. so you came up with an easy solution.

The door to your shared bedroom clicked open — your beloved boyfriend, Sigma, letting himself in as his eyes racked over the entire room, searching for anything out of the ordinary — you did tell him that you had a surprise for him, after all.

Upon finding nothing, he stalked over to the bed, confusion lacing his features as he glanced over at your sleeping form. Slender hands slowly slipped the soft blanket off of you and oh —

It all clicked suddenly.

The lavender coloured lace suited your complexion so perfectly, the expensive material hugging your features like it was made for you. Sigma gulped, eyes fixating on the way your tits were practically spilling out of the flimsy fabric — your stiff nipples very much visible to his hungry gaze.

It wasn't long before he had his face buried between your plush thighs — Sigma was so desperate, not even bothering to take the lingerie off your body. Besides, why would he when you just looked way too good in it?

He was practically eating you out through the thin lace — nose bumping against your clothed clit as his tongue tried to push deeper into your cunt. You had him in a chokehold — but he couldn't care less.

Sigma's slim hips were rutting into the expensive sheets — precum leaking from his sensitive tip as he tried his best not to cum untouched just from tasting your sweet pussy, but fuck, you were making it so hard for him.

He felt his cock throb in his pants when you started letting out soft moans and sighs in your sleep — or were you even asleep anymore? He didn't know and neither did he care — mind too focused on making you cum on his pretty face.

"ohh s-shit — best surprise - sluurrp - e-ever—" he whined into your cunt, spitting directly into your sticky hole before slurping it all back up.

Safe to say, he definitely enjoyed your little surprise.

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fangirl-dot-com · 7 months ago

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🚕Accidentally Kidnapping a Mafia Boss

*part of the reverse tropes series*

Pairing: MafiaBoss!Max Verstappen x UberDriver!Reader Genre: Crack/Humor/Fluff? Summary: Uber seemed like a brilliant plan to get money to buy a new car. However, a mistake has you picking up the wrong passenger. Pretty blue eyes turn dangerous when you notice the gun in his belt.

*this was actually so much fun to write! this is in no way dark whatsoever. it's super funny and the reader is pretty ditzy but it's all in good fun! hope you like it!*

TAG LIST CLOSED

You hummed to whatever tune was playing on your half-broken radio. Most of the lyrics came out as muffled voices, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Because like the radio, your car was almost dead.

Key word being almost.

You had bought the car at the beginning of your high school career and refused to give it up. But, your father had finally convinced you to buy a new one. However, buying a new car was expensive, hence why you were driving around town at 7 p.m. on a Friday night trying to find someone who needed an Uber.

Your family had mentioned how dangerous it was to drive for the “taxi” company, but no one else was hiring at this time.

“It’s an easy way to make bank,” you had told your very confused parents.

Your hand came up and smacked the top of the dash, causing the radio to spam for a moment before finally, clear voices played out. However, your eyebrows furrowed once you could actually listen to the song.

“This is not my playlist,” you muttered while trying to get your Bluetooth to come back on. Once your fingers reached the dials, your phone lit up with an Uber notification.

“Finally.”

You quickly put in the address and drove down the street. Your humming resumed, playlist reaching out through the speaker. You hadn’t even glanced at where the location was, or you would have realized that you were going in the wrong direction.

When you were supposed to be going further into the town, you were headed for the city. The only place your parents refused to let you drive.

It might have to do with the local mafia war that was going on. Something about track limits or whatnot. However, that was not going to stop you from getting paid that night.

You finally came to a stop at the corner of what you thought to be Fifth and Main, like your phone said to stop at. The actual corner was Fourth and Main, but you couldn’t tell because half of the word “fourth” was smudged with some type of brown substance.

Your shoulders raised in a shrug while your gaze landed back on your phone. At least you were supposed to be picking up a nice older looking lady. That’s what your Uber app said anyway. You leaned forward in the driver’s seat, making the entire car squeak. Before you knew it, your fingers had started to tap along to the song that was still playing.

The sound of the door opening and slamming shut caught your attention.

“Drive!” you heard from behind you.

Your entire body turned in the seat as you looked to the back row of your car.

That was not a nice looking old lady.

The man that now resided on the back road had a mean glare as his eyebrows cocked. Sea blue eyes met your own as the man leaned forward and pointed out the window.

“I said drive, let’s go!” the accented voice yelled.

If you had taken a moment to actually look at the man, you would have noticed his roughed up suit, along with the bright red splatters along his white dress shirt. And on his belt line, a gun seemed to be tucked.

But you hadn’t noticed.

“Yes sir!” you cheerfully said, putting the car into drive. A loud boom sounded outside the car, but your radio had decided to turn up full blast, masking the sound. Your car squeaked as it started to move away from the corner and farther along the road.

The man in the back seat seemed agitated, but slowly relaxed the farther away you got on the highway. He had leaned back against the window and rubbed his eyes. You wanted to keep glancing back at him, but you needed to drive. When you noticed that the Uber app had not updated with his next location, you gathered the courage to speak. However, he beat you to it.

“Is this your first time?”

You sheepishly grinned back at him. “Yes, sir. Sorry, is it that noticeable?”

A grunt escaped his lips.

“The damn Get Away Car sticker on the back is not very inconspicuous. You need to get rid of it.”

“Oh! So you don’t like Taylor Swift that much?”

The man glared at you through the rearview mirror, before he shut his eyes. His hand waved at you through the gap between the front seats.

“Just don’t miss the exit.”

“Sir, you’ll need to put in your location first.”

His eyes shot open. “I guess this is your first day. How did you ever get through training?”

You glanced back. “Training? It was all online?”

A huff only answered as he reached for what you hoped was a phone in his pocket.

“I’ll have to let Lando know that online training will not work.”

You let out a nervous giggle, noting that there was no “Lando” in the Uber training video. But, once again, the money promised kept you going down the highway. You kept glancing at your phone, hoping that the guy would just put his address in. Now you were getting annoyed.

“Sir, I really need the address or I’ll have to make you get out.”

A click near your ear made you freeze.

“Who do you think you are? Giving orders to de Leeuw.”

You had definitely picked up the wrong person. You wanted to start explaining yourself, but the gun near your head made the words die out in your throat. You could feel his breath on your ear as he spoke. This would be hot, if you weren’t scared to lose your life.

“Now, you’re going to tell me who you are and why you don’t know where the right exit is. Are you working for Hamilton? Vettel? Alonso?”

You were so caught up in not wanting to die that you missed the car in front of you slamming on your breaks. You were thankful for your fast reflexes as your foot pressed down on the left pedal, making your car lurch to a halt. A thump on the back of your seat had you reeling around to see what had happened to the blond man.

You were surprised to see him now sprawled on the back seats, eyes closed and gun now on the floor. Your hands were shaking as you were now able to take a random exit. When you got to a random parking lot, your head hit the steering wheel.

“I have de Leeuw in my back seat.”

Your breathing started to grow ragged.

“I have de Leeuw in my back seat!”

You were now panicking.

“I HAVE AN FUCKING UNCONSCIOUS MAFIA BOSS IN MY BACK SEAT!”

Charles’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched Max’s tracker come to a stop in a parking lot. The Dutchman was supposed to come back right away after a swift deal with Gasly on the other side of town. But, Charles’s heart had dropped when the car, that Max was supposedly in, turned at an exit too soon. He took off his headset and rolled his chair over a bit.

“Lando, who was picking Max up today after the deal? Was it Carlos?”

The curly-haired Briton spun in his seat to look at his fellow mafia worker.

“Uh, Carlos called in sick. I thought it was Oscar’s turn?”

Something felt weird in Charles’s stomach.

“No, Oscar is on that mission? Daniel was then after Oscar.”

Lando’s eyes widened with fear. “Daniel is out of the country.”

The Monegasque turned back to his computer screen. All vitals for Max were still good, but he had yet to leave the location. His finger pointed and pressed against the screen.

“Then . . . who has Max?”

Back in the parking lot, you had gotten out of the car and were currently rocking back and forth in the fetal position.

“This is not happening. Why did this happen to me? I only needed some money. Why did I get stuck with a mafia boss. I want to live. I need to get back home to my plant and cat.”

Last time you checked, de Leeuw was still out cold. You had taken the gun just in case he woke up in a panic and started to shoot at stuff. That would not end well for you. You grabbed your phone and pushed a button.

“Yes? Hi? Hello, I am calling about what to do if I picked up the wrong passenger. Uh-huh. Yes. I didn’t have his address. Well, no. He’s unconscious. I can’t call the police, he probably owns them. What? Ok. No? The hospital is under the law as well? Yep. I can’t just take him back! No, wait. Don’t hang up. Uhg.”

So much for customer service.

You stuffed your phone back into your pocket. Your feet took you over to your car, and you opened the back seat. The blond man was still looked like he was asleep. Your face got closer to his.

Hm. Up close he was quite handsome. The freckle on his lip really added bonus points. You were so engrossed with the small dot that you missed the twitch of his eyes under his eyelids. When you looked back up, your eyes met blue, which made you shriek and fall back on your butt.

Max was a bit out of it when he was trying to wake up. What he wasn’t expecting was a face to be so close to his when his eyes finally opened. He would laugh if he had the strength as he watched you fall onto the concrete. His hand immediately went to his belt, but his heart dropped when he didn’t feel his gun.

“Looking for this?” you asked, gun outstretched at the man in your back seat. Max’s eyes widened at the gun pointed to his head. It took all of his strength to put his hands up.

“You don’t want to do this,” is the first calm thing that the man said to you. You, however, kept the gun pointed directly at him.

“You’re right, I don’t. But I can’t have you freak out on me and shoot my face. Who would take care of my cat back home? My cousin Lan could, but he kills everything.”

Max registered the slight hitch in your voice. While his hands were still up, he took a moment to look around the parking lot. In the depths of his mind, he was hoping that Lando or at least Charles were on their way to come get him. Yet, his heart rate rose as he saw a few familiar things surrounding him.

He turned back to you. “Ok, you need to listen to me. We are in Rosberg territory right now. And he’s not going to like us on his property. So, you need to give me the gun and get back into the car.”

Your eyes flickered around, and caught some movement to the left and then to the right. You slowly inched the gun down as you walked closer. When you were right in front of the Dutchman, you quickly handed him the gun as you rounded the car to the drivers seat.

Max quickly reloaded the unloaded gun with a smirk on his face. You couldn’t have shot him if you tried. It took a bit for him to do it, but when the magazine fit back in the gun, he was wondering why you hadn’t taken off yet.

“We have to go, now,” he said sternly.

You turned around. “But I need to find a good get-away-song.”

Max could count the pout on your lips as adorable, if it weren’t for the fact that Rosberg’s men were quickly making their way to the car.

“You’re going to have to pick a good funeral song if you don’t hit the gas pedal.”

“Aha!”

The music blared out of the broken speaker as you finally put the car into drive. You heard metal hit metal and prayed that you still could trade your car out for another (even with a few bullet holes).

Max had pressed himself up against the back seat, gun cocked and ready.

“You better not shoot out my back window. I have to trade this car for a new one.”

Max muttered, “You won’t trade anything if you’re dead.”

“I heard that!”

The mafia boss ignored you as he kept watch. When a few cars started to gain, that’s when he leaned back and aimed the gun, firing shots through your back windshield, shattering the glass.

“Do you listen to anyone? Or is my voice just static in your brain?” you asked as you swerved onto the highway. When Max didn’t answer, you huffed. You steadily drove your car down the big roads as Max tried his best to keep the cars at bay.

“How far am I driving?”

Max grunted as he ducked from a bullet. “Just until exit 7. That’s my track.”

You wanted to hit your head on the steering wheel once again. “You’re telling me that if I just kept driving, I wouldn’t be in this situation?”

When he didn’t answer, you swerved a bit to knock him off balance. Your chuckles hit Max’s ear, pissing him off even more.

“And to think, I was going to replace this utter junk if you made it out alive.”

“We’re not done yet mister.”

There was still a bit of road to go, and you were hoping that Max would try to shoot out one of their tyres, instead of trying to shoot at their drivers. He was about reload when he heard a clicking sound. Max really wanted to through himself out the door.

“Is your blinker seriously on right now?”

Your fully turned around to glare.

“Yes.”

You jerked the wheel as you got onto exit 7, making the cars behind slowly back away and continue on the highway. You wiggled in your seat as you did a little celebration. When some familiar houses came into sight, you gasped.

“My cousin lives around here!”

Max was out of breath as he was flabbergasted by your upbeat spirit. “Cousin?”

“Yeah! He has this like high tech job and stuff. I come over to swim in the summer.”

He had no words as you pulled up to a familiar house. You scrambled out the door and fell face flat on the asphalt.

“Sweet mother, thank you, thank you.”

You could kiss the ground, but that would be super unsanitary. When the garage creaked, you quickly got up and scrambled behind Max, who raised his gun out of instinct. However, he wanted to laugh when he saw his two best friends in full oversized gear.

The two friends froze at the sight of their boss and, well, Lando’s cousin.

“Y/n?” the Briton questioned, pulling the visor on the oversized helmet up.

Your sprung in your place.

“Lando!”

“Max?”

“Charles?”

Lando squinted at you.

“Y/n?”

A nervous giggle escaped your lips.

“Lando?”

The curly-haired man rushed at you, making you dodge around Max. Which, that resulted in Lando chasing you around the yard.

“You kidnapped my friend?”

“Why are you friends with de Leeuw and apparently Il Predestinato? I’m telling Aunt Cisca!”

“Not if I tell your mum that you Ubered in the city!”

Max and Charles watched as the two of you ran after each other, hurling insults and threats. The two jumped when they heard a loud creak behind them and then a crash. When they looked, your car was down to the ground, wheels askew.

“My car! De Leeuw, you’re paying for that!”

uber_y/n has posted

uber_y/n new baby from my new baby 🖤

liked by bestie, land0, max_v, and 204 others

bestie um excuse me ma'am 🤨 what happened to bessie? 😭

uber_y/n someone (not saying any names [max] ) SHATTERED HER BACK WINDOW

max_v I hope you like bessie 2.0 schatje

uber_y/n I dooooooo(not)

max_v woman 🙄

land0 you just had to go for my cousin 😐😑😐

uber_y/n he was very charismatic, unlike you noRIZZ 🫵💀

sharl_lec pls, for the love of everything good in this world, quit uber

uber_y/n NOPE on my way to pick up someone named...lewis?

max_v oh no

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

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eldorrancrown · 1 year ago

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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months ago

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Alley Boyfriends Part 2

It turns out pretending to be a fake boyfriend involved more planning than Danny had realized was necessary.

Personally, he was thinking he would occasionally be asked to hold Tim's hand in semi-public, tell people about maybe three or four fake dates, and be done with it.

Tim, on the other hand, created a backstory that would make any Dungeon Master weep in complicated worldbuilding joy.

"Why would we keep our relationship a secret?It has to be a valid reason for why we meet in a back alley most of the time but still go out in public to eat." Tim asked him, three notebooks spread around him. All three were written in code, but once they finished creating the tale to his preference, Tim planned on burning them.

Cause that was something people in Gotham did. He wasn't even joking. One of his coworkers invited him to a journal-burning just last week. He went to see what it was about, turns out it was this cities verson of a block party. There were a lot of little groups hudled around movaible fire pits, throwing in paper, laughing and drinking and just being merry.

He checked online to ensure he hadn't accidentally joined a cult. He hadn't; Gotham was just like that.

"I'm from the Midwest—a small town in the Midwest. Maybe I'm not out yet?" Danny suggests with a shrug, slumping in his chair to get comfortable.

Tim snaps his fingers at him with a manic light in his eyes. "That's brilliant. We'll have to go through all your social media to screen for any hints of you being in the alphabet mafia. Now, why would you worry about being spotted four states away? Internalized homophobia?"

Danny shrugs, watching Tim consider his notes, flipping between pages on all three notebooks. Apparently, to ensure their cover story worked, Tim needed to have a notebook dedicated to three themes. The first was their Mental choices—such as a profile of their personalities both before and after their "dating," when they fell in love, and how their upbringing affected them in romantic relationships.

Physical choice—such as how many times they held hands and where the dates were, their attraction types in the pshycal sense, and where they met.

Finally, there weres the Narrative choices—these were people outside their couple. Who saw what, when, and how?. Social media was in there.

"No. That doesn't make sense." Tim sighs showing him the Narrative one. On it are a jamble of words, written so tiny, even if they were noraml Danny would not understand them. "See? Your online humor is about thirty percent gay. Not to mention you've been to Pride in Gotham already."

Tim taps the other notebook, where, supposedly, he is gesturing to the proof of Danny being too comfortable in gay spaces to have internalized homophobia. Danny wonders why he needs this much information, and who the hell would look so far into their fake realtionship.

Once again he wonders who Tim is. Oh, he's been making coffee for the other for days now. Always having his travel mug ready to go at seven am sharp for the other to pick up in the Alley, and had texted him for quick meet ups to trade Heart Attak Coffee.

Sometimes they would send funny memes to each other, and ask eachother about their day. They messaged but it waswn't really deep.

It's also been too late to ask Tim for his last name. It would be embarrassing to admit he either forgot when the other told him or he forgot to ask. His mother would be horrified by his manners.

"It would be sense if we were closer to your hometown, but this would barely hold up against my employees, much less the family." Tim sighs taking a long sip of his coffee. At once, Danny watches his whole body relax, and his eyes light up.

He wonders about that too. Tim reacted to Heart Attack coffee like a ghost interacting with their Obsession.

Tim isn't dead or died from what Danny can tell, but he had obvious signs of death around him. Not enough to be liminal like Jazz, so he wasn't ecto-exposed nor haunted.

He has likely just been in many life-threatening situations. Danny had noticed back in Amity that people like firefighters, military, police officers, and the like- those whose entire jobs meant putting themselves at risk- had the sense of Death gently curling around them. Almost like a flirtation.

He seen a lot more people like that in Gotham, though ussally they were on the opposite side of the previous named workers and he realized that Tim had to be involded in something.

Something big, if the nice suits, expensive coats, countless flowers, tips, and free lunches were any indication. Should he be worried about being in a fake relationship with him?

"Oh! We're a secret because this is both of our first boyfriends!" Tim cheers after a moment. "We are both worried about two different things. I don't want to mess things up due unresolved attachment and abandonment issues not to mention my terrible self-worth and communication skills."

That.....is terrifying self-aware. Danny can only stare as Tim nods his head, flipping some pages and writing more notes down. He switches between green and blue ink pens whenever he is writting so he knows which note applies to who.

Danny thinks he's green.

"You, on the other hand, have a mix of fear of your family finding out, terrible self-esteem due to years of bullying, and fear of commitment. I think we both can play off feeling that if we can't be of use to people, they will leave us mentality, so we never set up proper boundaries just to be safe." Tip pauses, tapping the pen to his bottom lip, eyes focused intensely on his work.

There is a hint of....ghost in his eyes, gleaming just behind his humanity.

He is Ghost King, which means he does not control or know when someone dies, as that is out of his jurisdiction. Not everything that dies becomes a ghost, just like not every ghost has ever lived after all.

In fact, not all of his citizens were humans to begin with or came from humans.

He had command of demons, in the same sense that he did concepts like Time (Clockwork) because they were between Realms. The ones that fell between the cracks of the fabric of worlds were Danny's.

Still, he came to recognize that someone had the potential to be one when their time came. Tim was most definatily a ghost in the making.

That left the question. What would be his Obsession once Tim finished forming?

Something directly involved in his death like Box Ghost (Crushed by a box due to his co-workers' careless prank?) Or something he felt he should have been given in life like Young Blood (Too sick to enjoy his childhood like other children and resentful of neglectful parents who ignored his pain?)

Danny tried to picture it, but they could see a glowing figure racing about wanting coffee and being unnecessarily involved with event planning.

Then again, he thinks, watching as Tim takes small glances at him as if making sure he is still there. He might be Obsessed with routines and being needed by people.

It wasn't really about the lack of caffeine. Instead, it was about the fact Heart Attack Coffee had been a comfort since childhood. Tim needed to feel like he was in control. Danny noticed that the second the other had burst into tears after being denied the coffee.

It was like taking Ember's guitar. His soul had dimmed. That's why Danny gave it to him while carefully checking to ensure Tim wasn't being Overshadowed. If he was, then he would kick the ghost's ass in the alley, away from wandering eyes.

He shivers again when a coldness from his chest zips across his limbs. Ever since Danny developed his ice core, he felt that he had been susceptible to the cold. He still remembers the day his core formed, how he was shivering in the summer to Sam's and Tucker's confusion.

He often found himself piling on scarves and sweaters, even when outside of winter.

Gotham wasn't nearly as cold as Amity Park- they would get a lot of snow compare to here- but it didn't seem to matter to his core.

He gets up to drag over the space heater and figures he may as well get some hot chocolate. His stomach growls, reminding him food would be a good idea, too. "You want something to eat Tim?"

There is a grunt that he learned meant "Yeah, I can eat" from Tim's hunched-over form. He smiles, grabbinghe throw blanket to wrap around himself.

His apartment wasn't too bad considering it was close to Crime Alley. It was odd and a bit outdated, but it was enough space for one person, the hot water lasted longer, and there was no mold or break-ins.

It nearly made up for the fact the walls were paper thin, which did nothing to keep the bitter Jack Frost out; his landlord shut off the heat a few weeks ago for "maintenance" and did not turn it back on.

According to his neighbors, he always does so to save funds. It sucked, but none of them could afford to move away, Danny included.

It would be bearable if Danny's insides weren't literally freezing.

He starts to cook a nice warm soup, chopping up some chicken and noodles, mindful of Tim's continued muttering in the background. It's nice, like having his own white noise machine.

A second wave of ice-ice cold races over his body. Danny glances at Tim, but it seems the other had gotten comfortable near his space heater, and it would be rude to take it across the room just because he was cold when his guest was already using it.

Maybe he'll buy a second one at the second-hand store on his next paycheck. He watches his soup boil as he adds some spices for flavoring, curling in on himself as the throw blanket seems to not be warming him fast enough.

He hates when he gets cold fits like this. They don't happen as often now that he pratice with his ice core but they effect his human side the longer he goes without ising his ice powers.

In a anti-meta city like Gotham he just hasn't found a safe place to do that yet.

Danny's hands ache from the trembles running through them- he slips on some gloves, trying to squeeze warmth back into it. He then goes across the room to the hooks by the wall after giving in, there he puts on a scarf, his coat and a beanie so his ears can warm up too.

"Are you cold?" Tim asks as Danny returns to the stove

Danny laughs from where he is stirring the soup. It is such an understatement he can't do anything else. "Freezing."

"Why not turn up the heat?"

"Landlord shut it off." Danny shrugs at Tim's look of disbelief. "It's okay I've gotten used to it. Just need to make a nest of clothes later to warm up. Soup will help too."

"Does he shut off your heat often enough that you've gotten used to it?" Tim's voice is strangely flat. Danny shrugs.

"He shuts off stuff, like the AC and electricity all the time. A month ago, he shut off the water; that was a rough two weeks." Danny jokes, thinking of how often he had to use the public bathrooms at the library to brush his teeth; he showered in the community gym. He tells Tim this. "Thank the Ancients for the Waynes. If it wasn't for them funding the gym, library, and laundry mat I probably would have it worse"

Tim stares at him for a long minute. Without a word, he reaches for his work laptop, which lay close to the side in favor of the notebooks two hours ago.

Danny isn't sure what exactly Tim does for work—he isn't sure it's legal, so he reframes from asking—but he does know that recently, he has been over to Danny's apartment a lot more to hash out the details and doing remote work at the same time.

He boots it up, fingers flying over the keyboard at a speed that still impresses Danny, even after seeing him type for the past few days. Assuming he returned to work, Danny returned to his own task. He carefully pours them both two bowls- mindful of his gloves- and warms up the mild for their hot chocolates.

They are not the healthiest of combinations, but both boys are comfortable with odd food choices. He caries the tray back to the table, blaket dragging behind him.

Tim stares intensely at the screen, nodding thanks to him when he puts a bowl down by his hand. "What do you think of this?"

Danny glances at the screen and sees a really lovely penthouse. It's spacious, overlooking Gotham's diamond district with five rooms, two baths and even a boucany pool and hottub.

It screams money, with its large arched windows, dark carpet, and grey pillars. He even spots a grand piano in the living room. Danny whistles, "Damn, I would love to live there."

"Okay, it's yours," Tim says, clicking the chat box with the realtor. He types out a quick agreement for the purchase and opens another tab with his private banker and lawyers, commanding them to have the place ready for him in two days—all without reaching for his mouse. An agreement comes through before Danny can do anything other than gawk as Tim adds his name to the owner's list.

Tim seems unaware of Danny's flabbergasted look of awe as he taps into a few more tabs, researching cleaning crews and moving companies. "We can move you on your day off. The cleaners can help you pack if you need it while you're at work, and the moving crew can get it over the city for you. I'm also buying this place. It's ridiculous that he just shuts things off. "

Just who in the world is this guy!?

____________________________________________________

Across the city, Babs stares at Tim's online orders. She has been told to keep an eye on himbecause Jasons worries about his suspected drug problem.

Everyone in the family has been somewhat uneasy about the possibility. Babs will admit her heart broke when she found hours and hours of him meeting the same shady looking teenager entering the same back alley over and over again.

He always came out looking flustered and a bit jittery, and she also thought it wasn't a secret lover like Bruce and Dick had hoped. She had always been a least optimistic, and her cameras- even the ones she hacked into to review recorded surveillance for the past three showed her the ugly truth.

Tim was an addict.

She had been working on her letter for the intervention they would be holding for him, typing past her tears, when this popped up. She blinks and takes her glasses off to wipe them before checking to see if she is seeing correctly.

But nope, the words stay the same. She slowly reaches for her headset and clicks it on. At once, her ear overflows with various voices from everyone on the field.

Tim is the only one not out currently, but she can clearly see why.

"Tim just bought a penthouse for Danny Fenton. He also has two sets of cleaning crews, one to Fenton's address and one to his own. Two sets of moving crews have been added to both addresses, each ending at the same penthouse. He's going to be living with him," She announces, silencing everyone at once. "Does that sound like drug dealer behavior?"

"Omg," Dick cries at once. Relief and joy overlap his voice as he screams into the mics "Love wins!"

"Let's not celebrate too soon. We still have to figure out what the hell those alley meetings are about," Jason warns. "If it is a drug dealer, moving in together will be the worst thing possible to T."

"Agree. We prob him but carefully so he doesn't catch on." Bruce comands "Act as ussual to get as much information out of Tim."

"So.....we throw him a house warming/investation on his boyfriend party?" Steph asks the sound of wind accompanies her words. She is likely grappling towards Danny's apparment to check on Tim.

She has gotten the habit of doing so ever since Danny has been flagged by Jason. Steph has reported the same thing evertime. Tim seemed to just been doing work at Danny's table, drinking teas and cuddling together in front of Danny's cheap tv.

She thought it was all very domestic, even when her eyes tracked every movement Danny made. Of course she couldn't get too close least Tim would catch on.

"Exactly."

#dcxdpdabbles #Alley Boyfriends #Part 2 #Dead Tired #Fake dating #Danny doesn't know Tim is a Wayne #Look Tim has nearly died A LOT #He would be a ghosts out of the Bats #No one asked for this but I couldn't help myself #Tim is attached to Danny #Danny in canon can't handle the cold of his core

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tra1nchi · 6 months ago

Note

Scary mafia guy in the streets and a submissive slut in the sheets ˙𐃷˙

Domtop reader pretty please 🙏

🌷anon

I was just thinking about this what,,MINORS DNI!! Top male reader,,Size diff,,begging,,gun play

You didn't know how you ended up with Cian,,you were a normal average 9-5 worker while he was apart of the Mafia,, He made sure it was clear when you both first met,,especially when he pressed his gun to your head!!

You always considered that your meet cute,,He never told you for sure if he was a leader or just another member but he did have a noticeable tear drop tattoo under his eye!!

He was taller then you and wayy more muscular,,his hand completely encased yours whenever he held you in his,,your relationship was quite set in stone from the start!!

Until when you came home one day to find him whining as he bounced himself up and down on quite a large dildo!! How could this possibly be the guy who gives you scary boyfriend privileges??

Gasping out in embarrassment when he sees you but his hips contuine to himp against the plastic!! His cock drooling pre cum up against his tummy!! Taking his expensive and pristine gun in your hands,,

Shoving it inbetween his wet lips,,he looks up at you with the sweetest of puppy eyes,,His tongue swirling around the metal like it was a dick,,shoving his tongue inside the bullet hole when he hears you cock the gun!!

"Please..I need it so bad, I need..you." His cheeks were red,,sweat cascading down his forehead before screaming out in pleasure when he feels the tip of his gun be shoved inside his already slicked up hole!!

His previous gun that he used to take down so many of his enemies now thrusting deep inside of him like a penis,,Cian gripped onto your arms desperately,, his grip leaving red marks which may turn into bruises!!

His expensive lingerie moving to the side slightly to show his erect nipple,,moaning out in protest as he sees you leaning down!! "No! They're sensitive!" But he does nothing to stop you,,only wrapping his muscled legs around your waist to keep you flushed against his body!!

#{anon asks}#{h4rny ask}#{🌷}#{top male reader}#x top male reader #top male reader #x dom male reader #dom male reader #x bottom male character #bottom male character

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fyodior · 2 months ago

Text

IM NOT ONE OF THOSE CRAZY GIRLS.

pairing: chuuya x afab reader (no gendered terms used)

cw: sex pollen trope :3 horny nonsense, F and M masturbation, riding, creampie, pm!reader. MINORS DNI

wc: 1.9k

It had been a mission just like any other mission - some, now formerly, Port Mafia-associated grunts had been dealing arms behind their backs, and you and Chuuya had been sent to swiftly and quietly take care of them. It’s what the two of you did best - swift, quick, quiet. Silence those who need to be silenced, force confessions out of those who need to talk. The two of you were the most highly coveted and revered duo in the PM for your abilities, supernatural and otherwise.

Something… odd had happened during this one, though. One of them had an ability of some sort, of which he had been trying to activate when Chuuya promptly eliminated him. You had noticed something shimmering in the air around him, but you truly didn’t think twice about it, considering the commotion had kicked up a lot of dust in the old warehouse. But now, sitting in the back of the car next to Chuuya on the way back to headquarters, you’re starting to wonder if his ability had been activated by the time Chuuya had killed him. Because this very odd feeling in your body is surely not normal.

Beads of sweat gather on your upper lip and forehead as your breath quickens, and you can feel your face burning. A sour, swirling feeling in your gut is making you feel sick, and every square inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire, making your vision blur. And worse? You’re so fucking horny you can barely see straight, the throbbing in your pussy barely quelled by squeezing your thighs together.

“Chuu, I’m not, uh,” you gulp, struggling to get the words out. “I’m not feeling great.”

When he doesn’t respond, you look over to find him in worse shape than you. His normally pale cheeks are cherry red, sweat dripping down his forehead and matting his ginger hair to the sides of his face. Chest heaving, it seems like he’s gasping for air, and, wait - is he whimpering? When your eyes trail down his slim body, you spot the final confirmation needed to know that he’s in the same boat you are - he’s rock fucking hard, a clear outline of his dick painfully obvious in his slacks.

“ ‘m not feelin’ great either,” he grunts, words shaky. He tries to cross his legs but yelps, even the slight amount of friction clearly too overwhelming.

Never in your life have you felt this aggressively aroused, to the point where it’s damn near painful. At this point, all you can think about is touching yourself, and getting something inside you.

“How much longer ‘til we’re back to headquarters?” your words are stunted, dripping with desperation.

Chuuya checks his phone, hand shaking. “Thirty minutes.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you whine, burying your face in your hands.

It’s clear that both of you are feeling it, but neither of you are able to admit it. Not until Chuuya finally breaks.

“I- fuck- I gotta come so bad before I fucking pass out,” he grunts.

Your eyes go wide at the statement - Chuuya was usually such a composed, disciplined man, that seeing him in such a frazzled, desperate state is shocking, and a testament to the potency of… whatever this is. But honestly, you can’t blame him. Instead, your mouth waters as he fumbles with his leather belt, unzipping his slacks and pulling out his thick cock.

A hearty groan tumbles past his lips as he wraps a hand around his throbbing cock, pre already leaking out of the angry red tip. His left hand digs into the leather of the seat while he pumps his fist up and down his length, angling his body away from you as a last ditch effort to preserve his dignity, but it’s no use.

“Fuck- sorry, sorry,” are the only words he can get out, jerking himself off faster and faster.

You hadn’t realized you had been holding your breath this whole time until your body finally forces you to release it. Chuuya and you had never been anywhere near an item, had never shared anything more but alcohol induced lustful eye contact during work events, but it would be a bold-faced lie to say you had never thought of him like that. But how could anyone blame you? It’s Chuuya. So the fact that the man is jerking off mere inches from you is… overwhelming to say the least. And is only worsening the ache between your own thighs.

In a haze, you undo your own pants before shoving a hand inside, even the feather light pressure against your clit making you yelp. But, fuck, even the half-second of stimulation had your hips bucking, begging for more. With no other choice, you give in to your altered self’s demands, massaging your clit frantically and haphazardly. The groans and moans you let out are completely involuntary - you feel completely detached from who you are, what you are. The only thing you can think of at this point is how desperately you need to come.

The problem is… it’s not happening. No matter how fast you massage circles around your throbbing clit, no matter how many fingers you shove inside your sopping cunt, it’s not enough. You’re getting close, close, close, right on the edge of reaching the release you so badly need, to be broken free from this obvious curse that’s been bestowed on the both of you, but it just won’t happen. And, looking at the man next to you, it’s clear he’s not faring any better.

Chuuya’s all but given up, hands laying limp at his sides and head fallen back against the headrest as he pants, his still hard cock twitching in his lap. Your eyes flit between his face and his cock.

“Is it…”

“It’s not fucking working,” he grits, teeth clenched and eyebrows knitted together. The man is miserable.

But maybe… Maybe the answer is each other? Maybe to break this curse, to undo this ability, you have to fuck someone else? It’d be a shit ability if you could just take care of it yourself… But proposing that to Chuuya? To the man you respect and revere so highly, a top executive at the Port Mafia, the man who could ruin your life and career in a second if you chose to jeopardize it like this… Fuck it.

“Maybe I could hel-”

“Please do,” he interrupts, pulling you in roughly and mashing your lips together. It’s all teeth and tongue and spit but all either of you can think about is how badly you need each other, how badly you need to be connected and to fucking come. Even through the haze of your curse, you still feel it. How Chuuya is doing the most to keep himself in check, doing his best to not crush you with his inhuman abilities, in the midst of a drunk-like state. Even at his worst, Chuuya is the most respectable man you know.

A hand comes to wrap around his cock, but he stops you, gripping your wrist.

“Get on top,” he growls lowly, and you don’t need to be told twice.

Shedding your pants in a frenzy, your heart races and your breath is ragged as you clamber onto his lap, wasting not even a second before you sink down onto his cock. Gravity does the work of fitting all of him inside you, and both of you let out broken, strangled grunts and moans of not only pleasure but relief. For the first time, it actually feels like a step has been taken towards relief. The answer had been there the whole time - each other.

The space is cramped in the backseat of this SUV, but neither of you could care less. Wrapping your hands around his neck, you use every ounce of strength you have in your thighs to bounce on his lap in time with his upward thrusts. It’s messy, haphazard, and both of you are just barely keeping it together.

Swift, quick, quiet has turned into sloppy, wet, horny.

But god does it feel heavenly. It’s not just the curse that’s making this feel so damn good, Chuuya clearly knows what he’s doing - even if his game might be a little off currently. His thick cock is stretching your slick pussy deliciously, rubbing against each and every one of your sweet spots with every thrust. What he lacks in length he makes up for in motion, bucking his hips up into you at just the right angle to have you babbling a mixture of curse words and his name over and over.

One of his hands snakes down between you, finding your clit and pressing against it - the sudden pressure makes you cry out, throwing your head back and clenching tight around his length, making the man hiss.

“Feel good, yeah?” he smirks, rubbing small but quick circles around your neglected clit.

“More,” is all you can manage, gripping his shoulders for better leverage as you ride him faster, desperate for the friction. The combination of his cock inside you and fingers massaging your clit finally has you reaching the climax you’ve been frantically chasing.

“C’mon, sweetheart, come for me,” Chuuya whispers against the shell of your ear as he fingers work rapidly against your sweetest spot. His words are suave and yet his voice still quivers, evidence of the fact that he’s still just as under the spell as you are.

“Y-you come too,” you stutter. “Us- both.”

The broken sentence is barely out of your drooling mouth before your orgasm hits you like a fucking truck, and you cry out as it washes over you, feeling like electricity running through each and every one of your nerves. It’s a high you’ve never felt before, an ecstasy like no other.

The way you clenched and rut against him as you came has Chuuya following you not long after, spitting hot, thick ropes of come inside your pulsing cunt, but neither of you could care less. That’s a problem for a later date. Right now, both of you are just trying to come down from… whatever the hell that was.

Foreheads pressed together, both of you try hard to catch your breath, panting dramatically. A sharp hiss escapes your lips as you climb off his lap, his softening cock slipping out with a string of cum connecting the two of you. Things are slightly awkward as you do your best to shuffle back into your pants in the backseat of the car, and Chuuya makes sure to direct his gaze out the window, as if he wasn’t just balls deep in your pussy.

It’s a given that neither of you can speak about it. It happened, it’s done, it’s over, you’ll return to being platonic work partners and pretend that this never, ever happened. And you’re fine with that, you really are. Until…

The tingling feeling is back. You’re getting hot all over, and your breath is quickening. And of course, the aching between your thighs. Looking over, and sure enough, Chuuya is already half-hard again. Fuck. The two of you make knowing eye contact. There’s only one direction this can go. Looking out the window, you’re minutes away from HQ.

“Your place or mine?”

#chuuya smut #chuuya x reader #bsd smut #bsd x reader #chuuya x you

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frenchkisstheabyss · 1 month ago

Text

♡ Softer, Softest ♡

♡ Pairing: mafia!boss!san x stripper!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: smut/angst/fluff

♡ Summary: A fun night of stripping takes a turn when an encounter with a particularly unpleasant customer leaves you in tears, running to your boss seeking comfort and protection. Both things he’s more than willing to give.

♡ Word Count: 3.6k-ish

♡ Warnings: explores themes of body insecurities, reader has her arm grabbed (nothing violent but brutal violence against the person who grabbed it), mentions of blood/injuries (not yours, babes), kissing, heavy body worship, san’s obsessed with you, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), clit sucking, nipple pinching, a lil manhandling, hair pulling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, low key mirror sex, pet names (baby, pretty).

♡ A/N: Hello my loves, I wrote this little fic for any of my chubby darlings out there who might not know or might need reminding that their bodies are gorgeous, worth loving, and desirable. I also really love myself a hot criminal and who better than San? K, let me shut up now. Just know I love you. Your body’s amazing. Never forget that ❤️

Midnight. Friday. The back alley of a strip club. The best in town. The strip club, not the alley. It’s a dark, starless night. The smell of fresh rain hangs in the air, the aftermath of a sudden downpour that left the ground slick with rain. Music from inside the club bleeds through the cracks of a heavy steel door. A neon red EXIT sign hangs overhead. The door creaks on its hinges as it swings open, sending the music blaring out into the night and with it comes a body. The blur of one at first, flying through the air, and then the weight of it. The heavy thud of bruised flesh and cracked bone colliding with the asphalt.

The man on the ground is unremarkable, nothing about him worth noting except the mangled nose that gushes blood down his face, leaking into the cavernous gash that is his busted lip. He said the wrong thing to the wrong person and now he can’t speak at all, only mumble. A brushed leather Dolce and Gabbana shoe collides with his cheek. His blood splashes scarlet against the pitch black soles, a horrible crack emitting from his jaw as more pressure’s applied. Now this man? He’s remarkable. He’s muscular, defined in every way so that, even through his black dress shirt, you can read the broadness of his shoulders. His features are sharp and intense. The kind you either fall for or fall victim to. There’s no in between. He’s a handsome devil but a devil all the same.

“You look like shit” San sighs, effortlessly kicking the man onto his back. He rolls his sleeves up, kneeling beside the man like a hunter inspecting its fallen prey. He stares down at him, emotionless, void of anything close to that thing we call remorse.

The man heaves in a breath of air before coughing it back out. “Mmm s-s-sorry” he croaks, “I didn’t know she was anyone fucking special.”

San grips the man’s face, grinning in a way that isn’t the least bit friendly. He squeezes tightly, forcing jagged teeth to press into the soft flesh of the man’s cheeks. “Well now you do.”

This is your boss and you, tucked away safe and warm in his office, are something special. But a part of you knew this already. You downplay it when the other girls point it out. You pretend not to notice the clear signs of favoritism but they’re there in even the smallest interaction between the two of you. Since day one San’s been your protector, your admirer. You’ve denied it a million times, convincing yourself you’re simply making more of things than what’s there. Still, after everything happened you couldn’t fathom running into the arms of anyone else.

You were dancing like any other night—working your section and getting your tips—when some asshole grabbed you by the arm, demanding your presence in one of the private rooms. Usually you could count on security to drag him out but on weekends the club gets packed and things slip through the cracks. Sadly tonight you were one of them so, like a proper lady, you told him to kiss your ass and sent the tip of your stiletto crashing into his balls. You might be a stripper but that doesn’t mean you’re some thing that men can treat however they wish. It’s a lesson he had to learn the hard way and you were happy to teach it to him. Two shots past drunk and embarrassed by your rejection he snapped, spewing the most vile things you’ve ever heard about yourself—about your body.

It isn’t news to you that you’re one of the bigger girls here. San says that’s what makes you special, why customers come in to blow a check on you and you alone. He’s right, your bank account says so. The customers love you, they eat up every inch of your plush body. By all means you should feel like the baddest bitch in this building, simply because you are, but in that moment his words had reduced you to nothing. A few seconds ago you were twirling around the pole like a goddess now you found yourself scurrying back to the dressing room with tears in your eyes.

At least that’s where you intended to go. Somewhere along the way you changed course, riding the velvet lined elevator to the third floor where San’s office sits at the end of a long hallway. At the time you hadn’t considered how much this might escalate the situation because, quite honestly, you didn’t care. More than feeling hurt, you were pissed the fuck off. Your tears were of anger and, whether you felt it at the time or not, you wanted that motherfucker to pay for it.

This place you work at. There’s more to it than what’s on the surface. It’s easy to get so distracted by the luxury and the lights and the pretty girls dancing that you miss the truth of it all. In fact, that’s the point, but you know a mafia front when you see one. You aren’t oblivious. You know what this is, who San is, and maybe that’s exactly why you were tapping at his door. A damsel in distress in black lace lingerie.

San’s heart dropped when he saw his favorite girl in tears. He stopped everything, sending his men away so he could place all of his focus on you. Resting his jacket over your shoulders, he gently cradled your cheeks, brushing the tears away to ask quite simply, “Who did it?”

You explained everything, how that asshole grabbed you and the things he said, and San’s anger grew quietly, simmering beneath a surface of calm. He took a seat at his desk, setting you down comfortably in his lap, and pulled up the security cameras. “Tell me when you see him, okay, baby?” he instructed sweetly, his palm massaging the smoothness of your thigh.

You nodded, struggling to focus on the screen with his hand on your thigh and him calling you “baby”. San touching you wasn’t a rare occasion but it was always something light. A hand on the small of your back or fingertips grazing your arm. Never this purposeful—this intimate. You couldn’t help imagining how it might feel if he gripped a little harder, moved a little higher. You felt your heart begin to race, your temperature rising the longer you sat there in his lap.

“That’s him” you sniffled, spotting that familiar face on the screen. San studied the screen a moment before turning back to you. “I’ll take care of it” he promised, his hand riding your thigh and coming to rest at the gentle curve of your hip. “And no more crying, baby. You’re too pretty to cry.” Too pretty to cry? Oh, but you were crying, absolutely weeping, only between your thighs this time.

San disappeared from the office, leaving you too lost in the lingering haze of his touch to even think about your insecurities, but that only lasted so long. Alone in the quiet of his office, the self doubt began to creep back in. You tried to distract yourself by exploring your surroundings—the impressive collection of vintage whiskey, the gorgeously framed art hanging from the walls—but nothing could distract you from how uncomfortable you’d become in your own skin. It didn’t help that the office was lined with mirrors, reflecting glimpses of your figure with every turn.

At last out of distractions, you turn to face the mirrored image of yourself, letting San’s jacket slip to the floor. You strike a pose, a half hearted copy of something cute you might do on stage, and watch the way the fat of your body squishes together here or there. You strike another then another then another but they’re there in every pose. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs. Your weight shows in all of them. Pinching your lower belly you think of how the other girls have had work done. Maybe if you got some done yourself…

“I left him out back. Clean him up before someone sees” San says, pushing through the door, his phone pressed to his ear.

You jump a bit at his arrival, scrambling to grab the jacket, but San slips in behind you, closing his arms around your waist before you can retrieve your safety blanket. You tense at first but find yourself settling into his embrace as if it’s the most natural place for you to be.

“So, what was that?” he asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he inhales your perfume and the sweet scent of honey and jasmine fills his lungs. You smell as beautiful as you are, as beautiful as everything about you is.

“How’d everything go?” you press, quick to change the subject. Noticing a series of tiny red scrapes on the knuckles of his right hand, you carefully take it into yours, assessing the damage.

San shrugs it off like it’s nothing. It still stings but it’s far from the worst pain he’s ever felt. “I said I’d take care of it. It’s been taken care of.”

You giggle at the contrast of something so menacing being spoken by someone so regal. “San, you make it sound like you killed him.”

He leans into your neck, his lips grazing your skin on their way up to your ear. You shiver at the contact and his hold on you tightens, your bodies pressed flush against each other so that you can feel his bulge pressed into the plush of your ass.

“Killed him? Almost” he whispers, “I answered your question so it’s only fair you answer mine, isn’t it? What were you doing? I came in and you were…” San pinches your belly, his fingertips planting adoration where there was once doubt.

“I…uh…I was…” you stutter, searching your brain for a believable lie but you can’t find a single one.“There’s this doctor, a few of the girls have gone to him to get some work done, and I was just thinking, I don’t know, maybe...why am I even telling you this? You don’t care and anyway, it’s silly.”

“It is silly” he agrees, notes of that quiet, controlled anger you witnessed earlier resurfacing, “But you’re wrong to say that I don’t care. I care about how you feel about yourself, I care about you. You must know that.”

“I mean, I know you care about me. You care about all of the girls” you say, hesitant to accept this as a profession of anything in particular.

San spins you around, pinning you between the warmth of his body and the cool mahogany of the desk. “I don’t care for any other woman the way I do you.”

There it is, a profession of something very particular. He’d hoped that you’d seen it by now. He wonders if he didn’t do a good enough job of showing you. It’s been so long before you, years even, that he had feelings like this for anyone. The world he operates in doesn’t allow for soft spots. Soft spots are how you make mistakes and when mistakes are life or death you can’t afford to make them but he couldn’t help himself with you. You caught his eye the day you walked in for your audition and you’re all he’s been able to see since. You’re so delicate, so beautiful, a perfect contrast to the toughness of his life. It’s why he protects you—why he always will.

“Your body…” he says, his palms racing up and down your curves, “It’s perfect. There’s nothing about it that needs fixing. If you let that doctor touch you I’ll break both of his hands.” San’s gaze is heavy with lust, months of longing just begging to be satisfied. It burns him up inside, sets fire to his very being, and being kissed by the flames of that need is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

“Is that the way you romance women? With threats of violence?” you tease, draping your arms across his shoulders.

“Sometimes but usually it’s like this” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours. His tongue parts your lips, twining around yours to deepen the kiss. His movements are careful and deliberate. The kiss intoxicatingly slow.

San grabs you by the hips, lifting you onto the desk and you let out a little squeak of surprise as he sets you down. “You’re so fucking cute” he grins, spreading your thighs to fit perfectly between them.

“You think so?” you say so innocently it only makes him want to ravage you more.

Tangling his fingers in your hair, he tilts your head to look back at the mirror, “Don’t you?”

An unexpected wetness soaks the lace of your panties at the sight of your shared reflection. Nothing has changed about your body. It’s the same one you were picking apart, the same one you were doubting, and San loves everything about it. He praises it with his hands, with his fingertips, with whispered confessions of everything your body needs to hear.

”I watch you sometimes when you’re dancing” he says, effortlessly doing away with your bra, “I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself when you look the way you do. It’s like you’ve put a spell on me. My little witch.”

San captures one of your breasts, kneading the plump flesh in the palm of his hand. He pinches your bud between his fingers, tugging at it just enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

“But I don’t have any magic” you whimper, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. They pop open one by one, revealing a body that had to be sculpted by some divine feminine deity. You push the fabric away, your fingertips delighting in the perfection of her creation.

San’s free hand reaches between you, stroking your clit through your panties. He groans at how soaked you are, your juices leaking through the lace to coat his fingers in your juices. “You do have magic, baby” he whispers, tucking your panties to the side, “It’s right here.”

“Aah, Sannie” you moan, your hands sliding down his abs as his fingers stretch you open.

Your body falls back, a sharp chill coursing through you as your bare back hits the desk. San sinks his fingers deeper into your core, his cock stiffening at the sight of your body moving as hypnotically as it does on the pole. Only now it’s for him and only him. This is how San likes it, how he’s always wanted it to be. Him with his fingers buried deep into the warmth of your pussy, your walls greedily clenching around them, and you spread out across his desk, your gorgeous body on full display and your lips spilling out moans meant for his ears alone.

Kneeling between your legs he pulls your panties aside harder this time, nearly tearing the fabric as he knots it in his fist. He brings his thumb to your clit, toying with it just to see how your body twitches with every touch. “How can a girl be this perfect?” he says, nearly salivating, “Even your pussy’s gorgeous.” There’s an audible wet sound, another sweet whimper escaping your throat, as his fingers slip out of your core and his tongue takes its place.

“San, wait…” you beg, grabbing at his hair, but you’re too late. Your attempt at pacing yourself is useless. His tongue’s already filling the space between your walls, wiggling and curling against your sweet spot. His dark hair knots around your fingers, your hips raising to ride every wave his tongue sends washing over you.

San drags his tongue up through your petal soft folds, swirling it around your clit before diving into you again. He suckles at your clit, gently at first then faster, more ravenous. His gaze flicks up to you, taking in the way your belly jiggles and your breasts bounce. He’s drunk on your juices, already addicted to the way you coat his tongue. You taste like heaven and look like it too. It takes all of the self control he has to pry his mouth free of your pussy, snatching your panties down as he does.

Standing back up, he grips your thighs, spreading you open to watch the arousal drip from your pussy, leaving pretty little drops on his desk. Your eyes are glued to him as he unzips his pants, letting his cock fall right between your legs. The swollen tip throbs against your lower belly, leaking precum, warm and sticky, on your skin. You rock your hips, clenching around air, craving friction from that deliciously veiny cock of his.

“You want it, baby?” San teases, tapping the head of his cock against your clit. His length slips between your folds. They’re so smooth, so slick. Toying with your pussy’s like splashing in a lake. You’re wet enough to drown in.

“I want it, Sannie, aah, fuck…” you moan, your eyes widening at the realization that his tip’s pressed to your entrance now, stretching you the faintest bit.

“Then tell me how perfect your body is. Tell me you love it.” He pushes in an inch more, stopping to leave your hole spread wide around his cock, still needy and deprived.

The stretch has the room spinning, a single taste of him already making you want more. “My body’s, mmph, beautiful” you manage as he gradually feeds you more of him, “I love it.”

“Don’t stop. Keep telling me. Make me believe you” San demands, thrusting into you so hard that he bottoms out.

You cry out at the force of the thrust, your lashes fluttering away tears, “I love, aah, my body. I love my body. It’s beautiful. It’s…it’s…”

Tucking his hands behind your knees, San pushes them to your chest, snapping his hips against you hard enough that your thighs jiggle around him. All of you does. Every stroke of his cock makes you tremble and he’s hardly able to keep still himself. You’re so tightly wound around his cock that he can feel all the finer details of your walls. They’re glued to him, sucking him in every time he even thinks about pulling back.

Through heavy lids you watch the man you’ve only ever known to be a mountain crumble to pieces all because of you. San’s muscles are slick with sweat and a glossy haze dances over his eyes. His fingers are digging into your thighs, completely devouring them. He does what he can to swallow his moans but it’s impossible when you’re making him feel like his entire soul’s being snatched from his body.

“You feel so fucking good” he grunts, planting breathless kisses up your leg, “Come here.”

San props your ankles up on his shoulders, hooking an arm around you and sitting you up so that you’re close enough to kiss. He grinds against your sweet spot, forcing his tongue down your throat so that every moan you set free echoes between his cheeks. Gripping the back of your neck, he slams into you, harder, faster, forcing your body to give into him. He fucks you until your eyes are rolling back, your mind too blank to recall anything that happened before this moment. There’s no thought of the incident, no thought of your insecurities. High on euphoria, your body feels beautiful, every inch of it.

“S-San…” you whine, a familiar pressure building behind your belly. Your fingers begin to tingle as they cling to his muscles, searching for any stability they can reach.

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he coos, not letting up on you, not even for a second.

Pulling his arm away he lets you fall back on the desk. With one hand cupping your breast and the other circling your clit, he watches you fall apart in the palms of his hands. For so long he’s had to watch you from afar, pretending that he wasn’t utterly obsessed with you, but now you’re all his. His pretty, moaning, teary eyed girl pouring your cum down his cock while you repeat his name like it’s the only word you know. He’s so singularly focused on watching you hit your high that his own takes him by surprise.

Grabbing him by the wrist, you lock eyes, a weak smile forming on your lips. “Fill me up, Sannie” you whisper, your voice sexy even in its brokenness.

San’s body shudders and you feel a new fullness inside of you. The warmth pools deep within you at first, cascading down your walls the more he empties himself into you. “Fuck, baby” he pants, catching himself before his body doubles over. He came so hard his ears are ringing and holding onto you is all he can do not to fall. You sit up to stroke his cheek and he kisses your wrist lovingly. You stare into each other’s eyes for a minute that lasts an eternity, letting yourselves get lost in one another’s gaze.

San breaks the trance with a kiss, holding you like one would the most precious thing they own. “Tell me, baby, how do you feel now?”

You contemplate his question, your attention drifting back to the reflection in the mirror. It’s all there. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs, and San looking at you like you’re the prettiest girl in the world. You turn back to him with a smile, “Beautiful.”

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