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lustlovehart · 6 days ago

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I'm more curious about the reverse!Monster au, how are the others test boys and Fellow honest and Skully are like in this version?

I like to believe they’re generally the same as the dorm leaders actually. Unlike regular Monster!Twst who have the 7 wonders as the biggest wanted bounty in the monster hunter field, as well as their pesky magic capabilities, the seven in Reverse Monster!Twst, are basically regular people who are just highly capable at their jobs. The same thing goes for everyone else, they don’t have the super abilities their monster counterparts have, so they’re regular people as well. I can give a general consensus on how all of them meet readers though!

Pairings: Fellow, Skully, Neige, Chenya, Heartslaybul, Savanclaw, Octavinelle, Pomefiore, Diasmonia x Reader

First however, We should go over the others, as some of them aren’t officially apart of the Monster Hunters. Also, there is 100% spelling errors in here, so sorry!! Reversed

These men are supposed to be Monster hunters… So why… Why do they act more fiendish than a Monster like you?!?

Fellow - A con artist on sages quarter who regularly scams people on the streets. Karma catches up to him when he finds you hiding in the shadows, attempting to sell you a fake artifact, only for him to catch a closer look at you, and realize you’re the monster the Hunter organization has been looking for. He should run, but the closer he looks at you… You’d be quite the attraction… Many people would pay to see the all-famed beast in a cage! Synopsis: To which Fellow pathetically attempts to catch you, realizing as time goes on, maybe there’s more to you than just money… Leading to his obsession.

Skully - The information logger of the organization. He doesn’t hunt any monsters down but collects info brought back to make records. He's been obsessed with knowing more about you, as your existence is shrouded in mystery. Imagine his surprise when he’s working late at night, only to look up and realize his (few) pictures of you are missing! His long limbs stumble over to search, he trips when the feeling of a monstrous trait lies on the ground. He’s prepared to run out when he stops and finally realizes who’s sitting there. You look down at him, your eyes following his every movement. Well now… Now that he knows it's you and not some random, how could he ever let those other Hunters defile you?! Synopsis: Skully finds the love (or monster) of his dreams in his decrepited study room! Now all he must do is hide you away from everyone else… But how is he supposed to do that when you won’t even answer what you’re doing there?

Neige - A support Hunter, who rather than do the hunting, acts as medical backup on the field. There’s not much to complain about when it comes to him, unlike the other factions. People like the 7 Highers and their upper ranks are looked upon with admiration for their skill, but in the same breath spat at due to their more than disagreeable personalities. Not Neige though, he’s the only sweet person in the field. This is why his co-workers are in shock when they succumb to their wounds, watching Neige tend to the monster who has practically sent them to their graves. Neige looks back with a sad smile, but when he turns it shifts to a smile with great joy. Synopsis: The only healer in the work field, realizes he recognizes you, perhaps from a dream, or maybe another world. But all he remembers is how much he strived to find you again in this reality, slowly abandoning his life, in turn, to live this new one with you.

Chenya- The weird citizen who somehow always finds you. No matter how many trees, rocks, or even heads you throw at him, he just always seems to come back with a smile on his face. He’s not a part of the monster organization hunting you down, but he isn’t normal either. All you know is his name is Chenya, and he wants… You don’t know what he wants but he’s always there! You wonder if he’s a monster too, but the way he answers no so casually tells you he is just a regular human. So why is he everywhere??? Synopsis: This human holds too much mystery to be sure of his motives, but one thing is for sure, he has a great interest in always staying by you.

Heartslaybul Upper Ranks- They find out about you when they follow Riddle one day on a private job. The moment they see him confront you they silently cheer him on, completely expecting their tyrant of a unit leader to immediately behead you upon sight. When he doesn’t they’re left in a state of confusion, only further enriching the feeling when Riddle doesn’t kill you, but cages you. You escape his grasp once more and all of them overhear the way he whispers.

“I shall not let you escape…!” Now they’re curious as to why Riddle is so set on taking you, not because of the rules of his job, but because of his wants. You’ve successfully swayed the strict Rule-Followers heart, it only makes sense his soldiers have grown curious about you… They scramble away when Riddle walks in their direction, though now that they look closer… Are his cheeks blushed red? Ace’s snickers immediately alert their leader's attention, his face instead red with anger. “Are you the reason they’re gone?!” They’re all quick to run as Trey attempts to calm him. Surely, it can’t be that serious, You’ll get that monster next time! Trey is the only one who hears Riddles's confession of not beheading you, but rather… No, this should be a secret between them.

Ace and Deuce - Officially meet you on a mission, where their luck randomly has them crossing paths with a disguised you. When that cloak falls, the beginning of their infatuation is sparked. They can finally see you up close… and now they finally understand why Riddle is so obsessed with you. Ace throws a quick smirk at Deuce, silently communicating a plan. They feign worry as they pose as travelers, worried about your safety. They’re lucky you assume them to be innocent merchants and not secret hunters. However… are merchants usually this close to their clients? They’re basically breathing on you…!

Trey and Cater - You sneak into Trey’s part time bakery on Sages quarter, attempting to try all the food you have never tried. The both of them are assume you’re just a random monster that showed up, giving them extra work. They’re proven wrong when they instead find you. They’re quick to put away their weapons and beckon you over with sweet promises.

Savanaclaw Upper Ranks- First introduced to to the idea of you when they see Leona covered in scratches and bruises, they assume he either went out on a mission, or something else entirely. Their suspicions are proven wrong when they quietly hear Leona mumble your name, kicking rocks as he plans his future trap for his prey (you, though, not even Leonas sure if he can can call you prey. The moment he catches you, he already knows he’s gonna treat you way better than the meat slabbed on his plate). They remember the name quickly, a top rated bounty. Jack is proud at their unit leaders strong strive that hasn’t been seen in so long, while Ruggies wondering if there’s a way for him to get some of that money. One thing is sure, Leona certainly has them interested in you too (accidently).

“Damn monster… Ruinin’ my sleep…” The two of them watch Leona glare at a flower. They think he’s gonna sand it down to dust. They’re thrown off when he plucks it and pockets with a swiftness that’s honestly funny. Now they need to know who has their unit leader so starstruck.

Jack & Ruggie - Meet you when they’re training. It’s pure chance when the leaves of a tree rustle, a body falling out of its branches. They rush over, assuming it to be an innocent towns person who most likely broke a rib or two. They’re frozen when the body picks its head up, the pretty sight of the most heinous monster in existence (you) blinking at them in a daze. Ruggie laughs as he leans you on his shoulder. Well, now he doesn’t think he wants thatbounty money anymore. Jack was never in it for the reward, but he can’t deny he thinks the same as Ruggie.

Ocatvinelle Upper Ranks- They’re already aware of you from the get go. They were both hiding behind a tree as they witness Azuls first meeting with you. So, in a sense, their first meeting with you was right then, beating Azul with dark bruises before fading into shadows. They never tell him about their excursion though, acting oblivious when Azul vents to them about his encounter with you. Ohh…! He really thought he could get you…! They nod along, subtly feeding into his confidence. My, and they thought he only wanted the status! To think you changed Azul from just one meeting alone… You are quite the entertainer.

“I’ll get them next time…!” Azul slams his fist down on the desk, his weapons clattering at the impact. Usually, he would care about such damages, it’s expensive furniture! But the look on his face is something entirely different, as if he couldn’t care about that fortune anymore. What would it matter if he can’t lavish you in it? He buries his head in his hands, glancing over at the golden conch on his table. Monster like shiny things don’t they? Perhaps you’ll come out to him when you see it’s glimmer. Jade and Floyd giggle as Azul scrambles to form a basket of glittery objects. Jade shines the gold necklace in his hand, it’s comforting to know they all had the same idea~

Jade & Floyd - They finally meet you face to face after such a long time of only knowing your elusive nature, all because they flashed diamond and gold in the moons light. Despite the way you snarl and throw insults at them, they don’t seem fazed one bit. “Ehh, Shrimpy’s kinda pretty up close huh?” Jade nods along. That uniform of theirs looks familiar... That slimy hunter..! Though… You think you might prefer him over these two…

Pomefiore Upper Ranks- Another pair (#3) who stalk their unit leader. Though, Completely unwilling for Epel. The sight of a disheveled bruised and beaten Vil is distraughting for Rook, he’s only narrowly held back by Epel who clings to him. He whispers warnings to the blonde, if you got out there you’ll die! But to let a comrade in arms perish despite being so near must be a much more horrible fate! He’s already pulling back the string of his bow to kill an ugly beast like you. But then, Vil ducks out of the way, the moonlight hitting you, and allowing both of them to see the sight Vil saw so up close. The bow drops down as Rook gasps. My... You are the epitome of beauty.

“How horrible…” Vil sits up from the dirty spot on the floor, dusting off his uniform. Rook and Vil are ready to run up to him, but stop when they notice Vil lift an object up to the light, a sadistic laugh of victory escaping his throat. “Yet amazing.” a bottle of crimson liquid illuminates with the moon behind it. “You and I, should be the fairest together.” he covers the glass container in a sack. “But first, I should strive to become much fairer.” Epel is left quirking an eyebrow at a teary eyed Rook. He doesn't know why… But he feels like Rook wants to both hunt you, and court you.

Epel & Rook - Meet you because of Rook somehow picking up your disguised figure in an overpacked crowd. You’re unsuspecting to the hunters that lurk behind you, wanderingly aimlessly in your next feast. You’re about to open your mouth and take your first bite of a meal, when a gloved hand covers your mouth and brings you into the body heat. A mysterious blonde man look at you with a smile while he tugs. Non non, your face would be sullied with blood! Our queen wouldn’t like that, right Epel? The other hunter nods, tightening the rope in his hands. Something tells you it’s not just Vil who’s determined to see your beauty up close.

Diasmonia Upper Ranks- They’re alerted to your continuing existence when Malleus bursts through the door, his overwhelming strength almost shooting the hinges. It's been a while since he’s acted like this. The first time happened when he first became unit leader, his cause of disarray being a sighting of you he missed by two minutes because Crowley kept the sevens meeting running long. It doesn’t take much to assume this next cry is caused by you as well. They’re proven right when Malleus tightens his fists, cracking the statue near the door with a strong hit. The utterance of your name proves them right. He takes a glance at the pictures of you ripped from books, each one adorned with a flower he believed to fit your aura in the frame. He turns back with anger and sorrow, walking away from the board.

“I finally saw them… But was it even worth it if I couldn't speak to them?” The confession leads to panic. Malleus… Finally met you? So… You do exist! They’re about to cheer for him, but remember his current unpleasant mood and deter from the decision. Though, the only thing left to do then is get you for him, is it not? They all collectively look at each other before leaving the chambers with great haste. Lilias laughing with joy, Silver is dazed yet still determined, and Sebek… Well, he views you with disdain, as you are a filthy monster, the things they’ve sworn to kill and protect the world from. But, you are the object of Malleus’s interest, so… He should most likely pursue you.

Lilia & Silver & Sebek - Meet you through a sucessful plan, where you glare at them from above the fire they have you dangling over. You’re shouting curses at them, hoping at least one will cast and bring misfortune to their lineage. You grunt in frustration when nothing lands due to your panic. Lilia tilts his head at you, questioning if this is really the monster blessed with the highest bounty in history, as well as Malleuses infatuation. Though he can’t deny it, he’s quite curious too, and he can confidently say the other two feel the same way. Silver is fully awake for once as he stares at you, even Sebek doesn't seem as uptight. In both of their minds, you’re a danger to Malleus, but you’re also his in the same breath, which is why... They feel so guilty for feeling the same way he does towards you. Lilia laughs as he swings you towards his arms, catching you with a strength unbefitting his frame. It seems you’ve captured both Diasmonas Unit leader and his uper ranks.

And perhaps… Maybe all of Sages Quarters key people.

To every ones misfortune, their traps fail and Monster!Darling escapes from them everytime, further increasing the missing count of Sages quarter, and perhaps the world.

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ozzgin · 10 months ago

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OZZGIN!

May I request an idea/imagine?

It is about yandere! mental asylum patient and psychiatrist! reader, who is very practical and strict regarding her job, takes no BS from others. But, for some reason, she has a soft spot for yandere! mental asylum patient. The reason could either be he had a hard childhood in which he had to do what he had to do, which brutally killed his father, who used to abuse his mother and sister, but when the father tried to sell the sister into prostitution to buy more alcohol, all hell break lose. Psychiatrist! reader thinks what yandere! mental asylum the patient did was OKAY, and she wants to get him out of the asylum. They love each other deeply and would do anything, so far as to kill for one another. If you can, make it as twisted as you can. I live for some dark romance!

Please ignore my request if you are not able to do it. I completely understand. Thank you in advance! <3

Oh my, this request hits somewhat close to home as I have a friend incarcerated for similar reasons. I'm pondering the logistics behind this context you've provided, since murdering someone won't necessarily land you in a psych ward unless there are other symptoms that come with it. And so I've taken the liberty to expand the character's profile if that's alright. (Conveniently enough I still have my psychopathology lecture notes)

I want to add, however, that this story in no way romanticizes mental illness! If anything, one may consider it an opportunity to reflect on the fact that so many people struggling with disorders do not receive the proper care for it, or only do so when it's too late. Furthermore a medical professional should never, ever behave like this and whatever is written here should stay in the realm of fiction!

Yandere! Patient x Psychiatrist! Reader

Featuring a patient that's pushing the boundaries of your work ethic and might even succeed.

Content/warnings: female reader, detailed mentions of mental disorder, violence, obsessive behavior, breach of professional conduct

You roll up your sleeve and check your watch. He should be here soon. Out of habit, you shuffle the papers for a quick case review, even though you already know all the details by heart. You carefully set aside the patient’s MMPI and WHODAS entry assessments, then your first interviews. Your eyes briefly rest upon the resulting report you’ve comprised: Schizophreniform Disorder (Provisional) with good prognostic features; Diagnostic criteria consisting of delusions, disorganized speech (frequent derailment with episodes of incoherence, echolalia) and comorbid catatonia. Responds well to antipsychotic (clozapine 25mg/12 h) with no imminent need for dosage increase. As it currently stands, he will be fit for proper incarceration in less than 6 months. Is it something you agree with? Not quite. You’ve presented your case many times and it has always been met with pitiful shrugs and dismissals.

The door opens and you fix your posture, sweeping the documents back into your drawer. “And? How are you feeling today?” You ask, flashing a professional, cordial smile as the assisting nurse leads the patient to his seat and prepares her leave. “My chest hurts.” The man answers in a low voice, glaring at the nurse. He taps his foot against the plush carpet, seemingly restless. “How bad would you rate it? Chest pain is a somewhat common side effect of your medication.” You retort, following the movements of the woman finally excusing herself and exiting the room. Once you’re alone, the man’s shoulders droop and he visibly relaxes. “It’s not that, you know it. When can I touch you again?” He pleads, despair twisting his features. You tense up at the words. “Behave yourself. It hasn’t been that long.”

It’s not something you’re particularly proud of. In fact, you might even call it one of your great shames in life. You’ve always been a textbook professional, perhaps even too strict according to your coworkers and most patients. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have dared to imagine you’d violate the code of ethics by falling in love with your patient. But something about his situation stirred your sense of justice. Surely one cannot be punished for protecting their loved ones. The only criminal in the equation, at least in your eyes, was that joke of a father and he had it coming. So you found yourself wrestling against a blooming protectiveness and favoritism towards the young man brought here last month.

What would have normally compelled you into action had therefore been silently swept under the rug. Or even worse, you secretly indulged in it. A patient showing signs of affection towards you would instantly be transferred to a different psychiatrist. Yet you couldn’t put away the letters written by this one. Erratic, crumpled notes of “I love you” written countless times, pencil dug so deep it tore into the sheet. Bizarre illustrations that looked almost threatening. His elaborate delusions before medication was introduced, where he’d detail in grand narratives how you were fated for each other and nothing would stop him from having you sooner or later. You do not know what forces possessed you into this addictive plunge, but you’ve come to enjoy his violent, frenzied confessions. So much, that during one of the unsupervised meetings you let yourself pushed into the sofa as his hands tugged at your body in rabid need. It was so out of character that you wondered if it truly happened, though the bite marks and scratches on your neck and chest proved otherwise.

“Are they going to send me to prison?” He changes the subject and stands up, walking towards your desk. “Most likely. What you have is the result of a traumatic event, not a lifelong condition. Sporadic episodes that can be kept under control with antipsychotics aren’t enough of a reason to keep you in the hospital.” You press your legs together nervously and glance at him. “Can’t you just say it’s no longer working?” He suggests, kneeling before you and placing a hand on your thigh. “You know I can’t lie on the report.” You really don’t like it when he manipulates you like this. “Ah, yes, because lying is worse than fucking your patient.” He scoffs, annoyed. “Don’t threaten me like that”, you say as you turn towards him, but you’re stopped by the rough grip of his hand over your cheeks. “I’m not threatening you, I’m threatening everyone else. Listen, (Y/N), I’m not fucking around. I don’t mind pretending to be crazy if I have to. Will the meds still be working if I steal a shaving razor and cut the nurse open?” You try to open your mouth, but his fingers are pressed into your skin, locking your jaw into place. “I’m not going to prison. I’m not. Then I’ll never see you again and that can’t happen. You know that.”

Eventually he releases his hold, allowing you to speak. "I understand. Then there's no choice but to arrange your escape." You sigh, defeated, and he raises his eyebrows. "Won't that get you in trouble?" You chuckle at his statement. "Either way I'll be in trouble. You said it yourself. Might as well quit before I have to stand in front of the ethics board and have my license revoked." You'd prefer to keep the last ounce of pride if possible.

He sits on the floor and you notice his trembling hands. "Nervous?" You ask. "No. Just really happy. I'm not a bad person and you were the only one here to see it. But God, (Y/N), I'd kill anyone if it was for your sake. I can't wait to hold you whenever I want." He gazes at you as a smile widens on his face.

#female reader #male yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere oc x reader #obsessive yandere #tw yandere

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seigeladvisoryservices · 3 months ago

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#selling a medical practice #how to sell a medical practice #selling your medical practice

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lushxboba · 4 months ago

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The Emperors Prize

Emperor Geta X Peasant!Reader

Word Count: 2k

TW// 18+ ONLY (minors be gone), mentions of family members death, mentions of murder, spitting, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, thigh riding, if i missed anything let me know !!

A/N: i haven’t written in months so be gentle with me pls 🙏🏽

It’d been the longest year of your life. Ever since Emperor Geta took over after his father died, your whole life had been turned upside down. Your father died the year prior, finally succumbing to his disease after being refused medical care by the kingdom. And your brother was left to do the only thing he felt was right to take care of your family. Train to be a gladiator. Perform in front of the Emperor and all of Rome to fight for his families survival. Only to not survive himself. Leaving you to take care of your little sister and sickly mother all to yourself.

Of course you blamed the only person you felt was responsible. Geta. He killed your father. He killed your brother. You wouldn’t let him take the last of what you had. So you did what you needed to survive, and stayed far away from his tyrants.

You’d heard of his army walking the markets day to day, blending in with the rest of peasants just to try and find someone stealing. They would take them to the temple and cut their hands off, cut their tongue out, maybe even behead them then and there. But you were smarter than those people. And faster. You had to be.

Before your father died, he always told you that your speed would be your superpower to survive Getas reign. You’d never have to face the torment of being in the arena and using your strength against your neighbors, but you could use your speed against his tyrants.

You spent days running in the slums, back and forth until you couldn’t breathe again. Or until you felt like you could’ve lost them. You knew you were ready for anything. Considering you did steal food to survive, you had to be.

You never thought you’d get caught. You’d been doing it for months now, and it seemed that only the elderly were the ones being dragged back to the kingdom. Call it population control if you will. But your time was surely coming to an end, and you could feel it.

You took your weekly walk down to the market, keeping your hood up and frequently looking out for suspicious vendors and customers. You’d seen people dragged away enough to know what they’d look like. They weren’t very good at disguising themselves. To you at least.

You tried to go to different stands each week so they wouldn’t catch on to you. You found a nice fruit stand with more colorful berries than you’d ever seen in your life.

You approached the stand as you practiced your distraction tactic in your head. You took a look around the stand, asking the man about how much he gets each week to sell, making him turn around to look in his inventory, giving you the perfect chance to quickly shove pints and pints of fruit in your bag.

Before he could turn back around, you were gone. Quickly walking through the market fast enough to be out of his eyesight but not fast enough to cause a scene.

You’d made it halfway down the road, just long enough to think you’d gotten away with it until you felt two pairs of hands gripping on each of your arms tightly.

“Little girl thought she got away, huh?” A deep voice husks behind your ear. You don’t fight it. No point in fighting when they’ve already made up their mind. And they are clearly much stronger than you.

You just roll your eyes as you let them walk you towards the kingdom. You can feel the eyes of everyone on you as they practically carry you towards the kingdom, but you pay them no mind. Your father always told you there was no reason to fight.

Once you reach the castle, the anger in you bubbles more and more. Knowing two people you loved died here made you want to rip the ugly brown wallpaper off of the walls and break down the pillars.

The men carry you up the steps to a large room bolted down with a big gold chain. You don’t even bother being nervous or anxious about what’s behind that door. You know your fate is decided the second your name is mentioned to the emperor.

One of the men unlock the chain while the other holds your arm even tighter. You’ve made no signs of struggle so you don’t exactly understand why they have to bruise your arm in the process. The door opens to reveal a long hallway, covered with a red and gold carpet leading to a throne. You’d recognize that throne anywhere. Along with the man who sits on it.

The walk down the runway seems like hours, as the man you despise most in this world stares you down with his wide brown eyes.

“You’re dismissed.” He says in a dark tone. The two men let go of your arms and bow before Geta before turning and leaving the room. Bolting the door down once again behind you.

“Most people bow when they see me.” He says, his legs and arms spread comfortably on the soft throne paid for by his slaves.

“I’m not most people.” You stand tall in front of him, keeping eye contact. “...your highness.” You smirk before playfully bending your knee and bowing in front of him.

Geta scoffs before standing up from his throne, slowly making his way towards you. “You look familiar.” His breath lingers down your skin as he circles around your body, his arms behind his back.

“You killed my father… and my brother.” You can see the gears click in his mind as he stops right in front of you. He places his hand roughly under your chin making you shiver. He forcefully turns your head both ways before nodding. “Caius’ daughter. How could I forget those innocent eyes?”

Your breathing gets heavier as you remember everything this man has put your family through. You spit on his cheek, making him quickly shuffle back. He chuckles under his breath, looking up at you as he wipes your saliva off of his face. “I should have you hung for that alone.”

“You’re going to kill me anyways. What else do I have to lose?” You get down on your knees, placing your hands behind your back as you ready yourself for the knife that is knowingly going to come to your neck.

“Who ever said anything about killing you? I surely didn’t.” He steps closer to you, leaning down to place his hand under your chin once again, this time softer. “Who could kill such a pretty little whore like you?” He lifts your head up to look at him, smirking as your eyes meet his once again.

He roughly pushed your head away as he steps back, slowly untying his robe. “I’ve already done enough damage to you, don’t you think?” He smirks, dropping his robe to reveal his extremely toned naked body. His cock jumps up to his stomach in anticipation, and as much as you hate him, you can’t take your eyes off of it. “In return for letting you live, I say you do a little something for me, don’t you think?” He spits in his hand, moving it down to stroke his cock as you watch on your knees. “You’re already in the position… it’s only fair.”

He moves back to his throne, sitting with his legs spread as he continues to stroke himself. Your mouth salivates at the image alone. You get up from your knees, slowly walking towards him until you’re standing in between his legs.

“I’d rather die than do anything to serve you.” You spit on him once again. Before you can turn around, he grabs you by the wrists and pulls you down on to your knees, holding your hair in one hand so you can’t move.

“This wasn’t an option.” He grabs his cock with his other hand, tapping it on your cheek before roughly shoving it into your mouth. You can’t help but moan the second you taste his salty seed lingering out the tip. “The good girl likes it, too.” He chuckles.

You look up at him with fire in your eyes, slowly bobbing your head up and down his hard member. You keep your arms behind your back and let him take control. That is all he wants after all. You watch as he throws his back in pleasure, moaning loud enough you’re sure the rest of the kingdom can hear you.

He grips your hair tighter with each movement of your mouth, pulling you every which way he wants you to go. “Your mouth is so wet and tight. Can’t wait to see what that perfect cunt feels like.”

You quickly pull off of him, removing one of your hands from your back to stroke him. “You never said anything about fucking me.”

“Oh, but I just did.” He smirks, leaning down to grab your hips and pull you into his lap. “You thought you were going to get away without me feeling your cunt wrapped around my cock?” He grinds into you, his hands roaming up and down your sides. You can’t help but to grind with him, moaning into his hair as he attaches his mouth to your neck.

His hand reaches down to lift up your skirt, revealing no underwear underneath. He moans into your neck as his fingers trace along your wet slit. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him closer to you as you grind your pussy along his hand.

You reach down to palm his cock, making him moan even louder if that was possible. “Need to feel you already.” He whines as he pulls your shirt up, his mouth immediately sucking on your nipples.

You grab his cock and run the tip along your slit, smirking as you tease him. “Never thought I’d have the Emperor of Rome begging me to fuck him.” You laugh, still riding the tip of his cock.

He growls, grabbing his cock and quickly thrusting up into you. You gasp loudly, gripping his neck tighter than before. He wraps his arms around your back, thrusting into you hard. You match his movements with the bounce of your own hips, leaving both of you a moaning mess.

You can feel your own arousal leaking out and coating both of your thighs. The sounds emitting from this room were obscene, and you just hoped the Gods would forgive you.

You roll your hips faster against him as you feel the familiar coil burn in your stomach quickly. His cock twitches inside of you, making your ego bigger than it already was coming into this room.

“You’re going to cum.” You say breathily, gripping him by his hair to make him look at you. He doesn’t say anything. Just looks in your eyes with his mouth open as he thrusts into you one last time. His hands grip your hips tightly as you feel him dripping out of you. The feeling is enough to make you shake as you reach your own high.

You hold him by his hair tightly, your hips still slowly rolling against his as your both catch your breath. It doesn’t take long for him to remove you from his lap. He grips your hips and swiftly places you back on your feet.

“You may be dismissed now.” He says quietly, clearing his throat as he looks down at his feet.

“Nothing to clean me up at least?” You respond, looking at him even though he isn’t doing the same.

“You’re a peasant. You walk around dirty anyways.” He scoffs.

You walk close to him, lifting your skirt and placing a leg on either side of his thigh. You slide yourself down his thigh until it’s coated in your juices before hopping off.

You fix your skirt, smoothing it out as you smirk up at him. “Your highness.” You bow, pulling your skirt out each way before turning around and walking yourself out. Leaving Geta speechless… for now.

#emperor geta #emperor geta smut #emperor geta fic #joseph quinn #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn fic

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lethalchiralium · 2 days ago

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Waiting Room | Happiness Series

a/n: yes, i’m posting twice in the same month! crazy lol (always thanking my lovely @as-is-above-so-below for editing)

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, medical stuff, injuries, simon spiraling

The ICU is bare at this time of night. There are no alarms for nurses to attend to, and the lights are dimmed. The doors shut, and meal trays were taken away hours ago. Triangle lights above the doors are filled in with red or green lights. The only sound in the corridor is of boots thumping against the floor.

Calloused hands gripped the nurse’s counter. Your name prattled quickly off his tongue with a question of where you were. A room named off, and he was already out of sight, running and escaping the nurse calling him to come back. When he reached your room, his hand didn’t tremble as it did the whole way to the hospital. He calmly and slowly pushed the door open.

All he saw was no bed, and John Price sitting on the couch below the window, hunched over and murmuring into the phone against his ear. He looked up and ended the call, standing quickly to walk towards him.

“Simon-”

“Where is she?”

“Still in surgery.”

“What the fuck happened?”

Price stiffened slightly, and the air between them suddenly stifled. Simon’s dry eyes stared him down, and Price could feel his failure crushing him. He promised to keep them safe and sound, yet here they were, barely thirty minutes into emergency surgery before your husband arrived.

“According to Laswell, she made them take Winnie to the park–her and Roach. She was home with Mel and König when they were ambushed.hey shot him, and took the girls.” He looked down at his phone, then pulled up the pictures of the damage to his front entrance–showing them to Simon. “…Your father took them to a cabin in the Lakes District witht he intention of selling her and Melody to traffickers, in a bid to exploit you for money.”

His heart began to race, hard, like a hammer against museum glass. Shattering it into his ribcage, the thumps of his lungs against his liver and spine like an out-of-control wave.

“She escaped with Melody, and uh… well.” Price swiped, and Simon was met with a caved-in face. But, he picked out the silvery scars on his father’s forehead from when he beat him himself, many years ago. “She beat the shit out of him.”

“Is he dead?”

“He is.”

Pride would be the word he was looking for, if not for how intense the injuries were to his father’s face. Your hands must be mush. “Good.”

“She was found in a valley. She tucked Melody in a dense fir tree; she has some scrapes and bruises, and was freezing to the touch, but we found her. She was calling for your wife.” Price slid the phone into his pocket, settling back on his heels. “Only reason we found them was because she was crying. She’s upstairs in the NICU; Laswell and Roach are there with Winnie, whenever you’re ready to see them.”

“Okay.”

Yet, he made no hurry to move from his spot, hovering in the center of the near-empty ICU room, the space left for your bed, the machines that would be attached to you, and the fear that would radiate off of you and permeate the silence like no other sound. Could he leave this spot to check on his children? Could he escape the betrayal he indirectly caused when he failed to protect you? Would he be able to pretend that he isn’t full of rage for his superiors, barring him from keeping his promise? But, should he be able to stay upset with Price, his closest friend, in finding and saving his wife and child?

Could, would, should. All words with no meaning without action.

Simon’s eyes met John’s, and a brief silence fell upon them.

“Go see the girls, Simon.”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation, “I can’t.”

John didn’t even breathe before speaking again, “Then stay. I will go sit with them.” He quickly ushered Simon into the chair he had occupied only moments before. Simon practically collapsed into it. His head in his hands, heart torn into shreds of silken fabric, drowning in a sea of despair. The thin plastic chair would do nothing to soothe his aching bones, his body a fresh arrival from London to base an hour ago. Never did he imagine he would have to rush home, in the midst of a panic attack over losing you the way he lost Grace, losing another unborn baby, and his infant. He didn’t dare pretend like he could hold this weight, the fear, the panic, the imagination of the sound of your screams.

There, in the white chair after thirty-six hours of being awake, he watched John leave him alone. And there, leaned over his knees, he let out whimpers that sounded much like the ones that escaped him as a child.

He didn’t wake again until he heard a collection of clicking. His arms tightened across his chest as he heard footsteps fade away. He rolled his head up before opening his eyes - all he saw was the hospital bed, and your figure covered by thick blankets, nodes pressed onto your forehead like thorns on a rose, a breathing tube taped to your chapped lips, and a level of calm on your face that he’d seen only a few times. The sound of the chair screeching across the floor, closer to the bed, closer to the iodine smell that permeated the room from you. His hand slipped under the warming blankets, lifting it to seek out your arm, gazing at the wrapping on your hand before he settled his own on the undamaged skin of your forearm. Covering you again, he silently thanked the nurse for keeping the bed rail tucked away. He leaned forward and settled his head against his arm - listening to the soft wheeze of the breathing machine.

His mind was void of words, but his tongue spoke from the root of his pain, just a gentle, “I failed you.”

In the dim light from above the bed, Simon’s thumb traced warm circles on your lukewarm skin, and he closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember before he left for the hospital, couldn’t remember the mission, only…emptiness. An overwhelming urge to vomit ichor into his lap as he sped through red lights. A softened part inside his stone-cold heart rotted, black like tar, gooey and burning every inch of his injured rib cage.

His lungs filling with warm breaths, fighting to ignore the iodine stench only found him asleep again, body hunched over as if to find some solace in protecting you now - when the void of his betrayal burned harsher than the dance of bourbon on his tongue.

Simon doesn’t greet your brother, and doesn’t dare move his temple from the blanket tucked beside his head, eyes glued to the TV in the dusty corner of the room. Below it hung a whiteboard detailing your name, age, gender, and nurses. Following that was a rotation with the times they would be by for checks, medication, replacing the cold blankets with warm ones, and moving you so bed sores don’t grow on your already fragile skin. The BBC show wasn’t anything interesting, not his favorite but something to do that wasn’t throwing up what little breakfast he had into the trash can.

He’d been visiting Mellie the morning before, brought in by Price after she was discharged. Her one-day hospital stay was officially over, and he had finally seen her - but guilt nestled in his esophagus as he pressed his nose into her scalp, her little body curled as far as it could into his chest. He would have been a better father to tend to her first, but the thought of losing you was more apocalyptic than he ever imagined. He couldn’t leave this room, could barely piss in the bathroom without the door open to keep an eye on you, and barely spoke to anyone who came in; whether it be a nurse or the task force, they were all given silence in exchange for their pleas for him to go home, take a shower, get a fresh set of clothes.

“You smell like shit, dude.”

Jake, your older brother, moved a chair beside Simon on his right, his hand gently patting your ankle as he sat. Your husband may have snapped at him if he wasn't absent from his mind. Simon was nestled in a deep corner of his consciousness, only pretending to be human for his friends and children as he rotted beside you.

He didn’t answer his brother-in-law, eyes flickering from character to character on the screen, as if that was a good-enough distraction from his painful thoughts.

“That Soap guy said you haven’t showered in four days. You smell like it, go take a shower.”

Simon huffed out a humorless chuckle. “Not leavin’ her.”

Jake paused for a moment, pensive for just a millisecond. “The bathroom is right there. Yes, she’s protected at all times with you here, but she’s safe when I’m here too. So go. I’m sure she wouldn’t want to smell your ass when she wakes up.”

“Fuck off, Jake.”

“You have to at least wipe down if I’m going to sit next to you. You reek.”

“Then don’t.”

“Not a chance, bud.”

A gentle but firm hand settled on Simon’s shoulder, and he barely reacted, only a rumble of disapproval from his throat. He wanted to wretch his shoulder backwards, get Jake’s hand off, scream at him, ask him what makes him think he’s right. Ask what made him think he truly knew the answer to Simon’s mistake, miscalculation, the broken promise that lay like glass at his feet. What makes him think that Simon could accept his help at all?

He would’ve fought his brother-in-law off if there was any point, but he had been sitting at your bedside for two days straight and you hadn’t woken up yet - even when they shined lights in your pupils, checked your wounded hand, adjusted nodes on your forehead, checked the back of your head. So Simon found himself standing, Jake’s hands ushering him to the bathroom, but he slammed his hand against the door when Jake tried to close it.

“Leave it open. Wanna see her.”

Jake didn’t make a sound, just gave an understanding nod. “Try to use the curtain. I’d like to avoid seeing your dick, and I’m sure the nurses would appreciate it.”

Simon doesn’t even remember keeping the curtain open, getting under the hot spray, and just… standing there. The water hit the crown of his head, spilling down and over his face, his chest, his stomach - his body ached from the lowest muscles in his calves to the tenderness nestled in the nape of his neck, yet he could feel nothing in between. No tremor of his lungs, no twitch in his bad knee, no rumble of his heartbeat. Even as the scalding water cascaded over his lips, eyes, and cheeks, he felt nothing. No prick in his eye to cry, as if he had already cried everything out and had nothing left to give.

There was nothing in this hospital room shower, just a shell of a man who wanted nothing more than to switch places with you.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Mess with her hair.”

The wrapping around your head was changed this morning, leaving more of your hair visible, and Jake was combing it with the shitty brush he bought down at the gift shop. “She always had a thing for her hair to be untangled. It bothered her a lot as a kid.” He set the brush down by your side, his fingers quickly remembering the braiding motion as he continued to speak softly, “Learned how to braid on her dolls so I could braid her hair for her. She didn’t like Mom or Dad doing it, only me.”

Simon rested his head on his arm again, watching the morning news. “Looks like shit.”

“I’m out of practice. Like you could do any better.”

“I have two daughters. I can do better.”

Jake could only half chuckle, almost lifeless. For a few moments, the only sounds were the breathing machine, the rustle of your hair, and footsteps approaching the door. Simon raised his head, watching over you like a hawk as the door creaked open; his hackles relaxed instantly as Winnie bounded in, followed by Price, who held Mellie. Simon was quick to sit back, allow his child to climb into his lap, and bury her face in his neck - he cradled Winnie close, kissing her hair and reclining back.

Her hair was in a messy ponytail, curls unruly and Simon felt acidic bile creep up his throat when she started crying.

She couldn’t say a word; neither could he, when he truly needed to. He needed to comfort his daughters, tell them that everything would be okay, that the doctors are taking care of Mama. He should be taking accountability with his children for failing to uphold his promises, yet, he kept his lips pressed to his eldest’s hair. His hand rubbed light circles on her shoulder blade, his eyes flickering to his brother-in-law and then his brother-in-arms. His infant was curled identically into Price’s chest, her little fists grabbing at the worn Metallica shirt, curls finger-brushed, onesie covered by a thick coat. Simon’s eyes fell back to you, the braid settled against your shoulder as Jake moved to the side, gently rubbing your bicep for a moment.

“You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to take care of her hair,” Jake mumbled. Simon didn’t miss the tears that rimmed the man’s eyes.

Simon didn’t make a sound, listening to his daughter’s sniffling as Price spoke, “She’s been taking care of everyone but herself, and we will keep taking care of her.”

Winnie whimpered; Simon kissed her hair again, keeping her close for as long as she’d let him.

12:39 am. Simon could barely make the time out from across the room. The heel of his hand rubbed into his eye, and he flipped up his phone, squinting to see the date. Four days. Four days since you were rushed here, four days since he hasn’t left you alone. A sigh settled deep in his bones as he let his phone fall, his tingling hand gently rubbing your forearm before he leaned up, wiping his face. He flicked the crust from his eye away, turning to look at you before laying his head down again.

His eyes fluttered closed, his stomach churning just a little before he settled again. His chest weighed like a bell, his heart laying limp in the comfort of his cushioning lungs, his mind wandering, pondering whether he would ever see your eyes again-

He sat up instantly; your eyes were staring at him, wide, almost painful. The look made his stomach roar, his hackles raised, eyebrow furrowed, eyes full of tears and concern.

“Sweetheart, it’s me, it’s okay-”

An alarm blared from your heart monitor, and the call button you rapidly pressed with your less injured hand. Simon’s heart clenched as your tears mirrored his, and the sound of you choking on the breathing tube made his stomach acid toss like salad dressing. He stood, and you flinched; he knew what was happening. He scrambled away, found the switch for the blinding overhead light, and flipped it before he moved to you again. The flood of tears in his eyes made it hard to see you recognize him, but you did. You reached for him as the door burst open - making you jerk again, a whine-like cry escaping your throat.

You thought he was Lloyd.

Simon couldn’t blame you. He spent years breaking mirrors because he looked like his father, his abuser.

He stumbled back, his wrist to his nose as nurses flooded your bedside, his eyes never leaving you. The nurse closest to him helped remove the breathing tube while the other injected something into your IV, and the last furiously typed on the computer. Simon could only keep himself a few steps away, listening to the sound of your whimpers and watching your weak attempts to move away from the help. His nails met his teeth, the quick already bloodied as he had chewed them down two nights ago. The emptiness in his chest had surged as if it was a flood, knocking his respiratory system around like a ping-pong ball against his ribcage. He couldn’t breathe, his heart felt as if it was beating so fast that it would catch fire, the tears leaking into his mouth were like acid.

Of course, you would think he’s Lloyd, the man humorlessly chuckling in his clouded head. Simon looked so much like him that they could be considered brothers, not father and son.

A deep part of him knew this would happen. The one thing Simon fought the hardest to protect was an easy domino to fall, the most direct way to get Simon’s attention, hit him where it could and would hurt the most. He’s kneeling and bleeding, his heart pouring blood as he has to watch his wife cry out when a nurse even grazes her skin.

Simon would be lying if he said he could handle this.

He doesn’t get frustrated with you when you turn your face a little to the left when he brings the spoon to your lips. He put it back into the ceramic bowl as he softly sighed to himself. You’ve barely eaten all morning since they took out the breathing tube, visiting hours are almost starting and Jake would be here, asking a million questions that Simon would need to answer. If the best you could do was five half spoonfuls of broth, it would have to do. He pushed the rolling table away, moving the blankets farther up on your abdomen and tucking it close to your body. Your gaze felt like knives on him, he was barely strong enough to look at your face when the profound sense of guilt only seemed to take his words. He refused to be upset with you when your hand touched his, even though he felt like he needed to rip his skin off.

Your thumb brushed over his bruised knuckles as he kept his hand settled on your hip, staring at the minute gesture that meant so much before, but now… felt bitter. Simon would have thrown up again, recognizing the way your comfort now felt painful.

“You gotta eat more later.” He mumbled, hunched over your bed, wanting to rip his hand from yours but also needing it to stay there. “You need to sleep too, you have to be tired- Ow!”

He looked up at your face, ignoring the dark bruise on your throat, to see just a little smirk. You had pinched his hand, and he furrowed his brows, confused.

“Was that funny?”

A tiny movement like a nod, and he huffed out a flat laugh. His free hand raised a little, in your vision, before slowly moving to settle on your face. He hovered his thumb along the bruise on your cheekbone, his fingers cradled your jaw like porcelain. Your head only moved into him, eyes never moving from him. He wasn’t sure you’d ever be able to look at him like Simon again, after your reaction a couple hours ago. He wouldn’t blame you at all if you couldn’t. He wouldn’t blame you if you left him after this, take the girls and move far, far away from him and everything that came with him - enemies, lies, pain. He wasn’t even sure how safe you were now and that killed him, destroyed his sense of safety and replaced it with so much fear.

“Mel…ody.”

Simon snapped back into reality where your eyes were narrowed slightly staring at him, and he instantly answered. “She’s safe. Just some bruising, she’s home with Jake and Price and Soap.”

Relief washed over your face, your head settled back on the pillow as your gaze finally moved to the ceiling. It’s at times like this where he wished he struggled to know what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking. But, he could read you like an open book.

“You did good,” He spoke, your name escaping like the prayer he needed days ago, “Our baby is safe. Mellie’s okay.”

You pinched him again before you looked back at him, and he let his thumb lightly graze your bruise, you didn’t even flinch.

“New one’s okay too.”

A whine escaped your throat, tears instantly falling from your face as relief washed over it. He patted your hip.

“You did good, Mama. Did really fuckin’ good.”

#lethalchiralium #happiness series #lethal chiralium #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader

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seeingivy · 1 year ago

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king of my heart

satoru gojo x f!reader

maybe satoru gojo, the man you were arranged to marry by your very annoying parents, was the one you were waiting for all along

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: arranged marriage trope, megumi + tsumiki kiddos, annoying parents, mentions of drinking + prom/highschool LOL

an: taylor swift satoru gojo propoganda returns.

You hold the vase of tulips in your hands, your palms sweating against the glass secured in his hands. You sincerely hope your anxiousness doesn’t make you drop the flowers before you can hand them to Mrs. Gojo. That would be a disaster.

Your parents are behind you, locking up your car and fussing over your outfit. Your mother had picked out a pale, baby blue dress for you, a modest cut but flattering your best features (according to her) - your hips, shoulders, collarbones. She’d given you a sparkling silver necklace to match, to draw attention to you. You silently wonder when she became such a conniver, hand picking your best traits to put on display for the Gojo family.

Your father’s mimicking her motions, taming down your stray hairs. You had braided the front pieces of your hairs just behind your ears and curled the rest of your loose hair to perfection. Your mothers request, of course. He’s less anal than her about the entire affair, but you don’t miss his nervous twitching as you walk up to the door.

The only person you can stand is your little brother, Saiki, who's been rolling his eyes since we started driving here. He thinks the entire proceeding is archaic, which it is, and has vehemently been making his disapproval known. He would keep it going, but there was talk of grounding on the table, which silenced him all together.

The four of you gather on the steps of the Gojo's mansion. You prepare yourself, mentally running through the steps your mother had drilled into you since you started meeting potential suitors a few months ago. Polite nod to the husband, hand the flowers and press a kiss to the wife, a shy smile to the suitor.

The three of them are crowded at the door, Satoru Gojo towering over the two of them. You’d heard of him before, your mother mentioning that their family was one of the most esteemed business owners in our entire social circle. She had never had the pleasure of making her acquaintance, which killed her every night (you’re sure of it), until now. A mutual friend had mentioned the Gojo family was looking for their daughter in law to “perfect their set” and your mother was all too willing to offer you up on a silver platter.

You do as your told. You knew you would have to anyway and struggling was useless. Plus, you’d sworn off love as of late anyways. This is what you were primed for - that shiny medical degree, your private pediatric practice - they’re all sparkly little gimmicks meant for this. A selling point.

The door opens and you start. First, a polite nod to Mr. Gojo, who gives you a chill with his stare. His eyes are void of warmth, the cerulean blues staring back into your eyes. His hands are cold when you press them together to shake, the same cold gaze being exchanged with your parents over the back of your shoulder.

Second, flowers and a sweet kiss to Mrs. Gojo. She dotes over the tulips, in a polite way, before dismissing them away to the servants you didn’t notice standing against the wall. You thank the servant for taking the vase, giving a warm smile before pressing a kiss to Mrs. Gojo’s cheek. Ice cold.

Third, a shy smile to the suitor. Whatever the fuck that means. You meet his gaze, half obscured by the sunglasses he was wearing indoors. He’s dressed in a buttoned up white shirt, the sleeves rolled past his forearms. The slacks are pressed to perfection, his shoes shined so well you could use them as a mirror. You give him a smile, which he halfheartedly returns. It seems he’s more interested in talking to Saiki than you.

The seven of you walk down the length of the hall, the table set up with white lilies and silver tablemats. Mrs. Gojo turns to Satoru, insisting that he take you and Saiki on a tour. Satoru nods, begrudgingly, before gesturing to you and Saiki to follow him up the stairs.

When you reach the top of the stairs, Satoru turns to a painting on the left, a painted portrait of his family when he was way younger. They all have solemn looks on their face, Satoru’s hinting on the borderline of irritation and boredom. Before Satoru can start his riveting spiel, Saiki interrupts him.

“Are you really going to make us do a real tour? Do you have video games or something till we have to go back?”

You dig your hand into his shoulder, bending down to his height and squeezing slightly.

“Saiki. Be nice.”

“Mom’s not nearby, you know?”

“She has superhuman, x-ray vision, Saiki. I bet she can see you from here.”

The two of you laugh and you ruffle his hair before you stand up again. You pat down the pleats of your dress, drying your palms against the fabric, as you turn back to Satoru.

“We don’t actually have to do a tour if you don’t want to. I have Mario Kart in my room.”

You and Saiki shoot him glimmering smiles, following him down the length of the hallway. He opens his bedroom door for you, the room the exact opposite of the perfectly proper, museum like decor downside.

His walls are navy blue and littered in posters and pictures. You can see his diploma hung up on the wall, right next to a poster for the Spongebob movie.

“I’m shocked they even let you do this.”

“They didn’t, Y/N. I just did it anyway.”

You nod at his words, turning your neck back to the walls. Saiki and Satoru sit on the floor, legs crossed, playing the game as you take a moment at each section, observing all the pictures. He has what seems like twenty or thirty pictures of his friends - sleeping in class, sitting by a lake, studying in a library. You don’t miss the multiple pictures of the girl with dark hair, a scar pressed against her nose. Especially the one of him kissing her cheek.

The other picture that stands out is a picture of Satoru himself, from when he was younger. The picture was clearly taken from above, an exasperated look pressed on little Satoru’s face. You can’t help but think he looks sad, lonely in the picture and commit it to memory. Your parents were more irritating than most, but Saiki got you through.

You settle down onto the floor next to them, Saiki handing his controller as you start to play.

“One more round and we should head back.”

You nod, playing the game, the pictures rattling around in your head.

The dinner is horrible, obviously. You were seated in between Satoru and his father, with Saiki exiled all the way at the end of the table. You shoot him glances every few seconds, trying your best not to smile at his very clear distaste for it all.

You can sense the dynamics fitting into your mind, observing every little thing to better understand what you were getting into. After all, the Gojo’s were going to be your family in a few months, whether you liked it or not.

Satoru has a clear distaste for his parents. His father, more than his mother. You can just tell by the way they look at each other. You think back to the picture, the one of him when he was younger, and can’t help but wonder if his father took it.

After dinner, your parents and Satoru’s convince force the two of you to take a walk along the garden, alone. You nod, preparing yourself for what was coming. A moonlit walk, pleasantries, and a ring secured on your finger by the end of the walk.

The two of you walk in silence, a respectable distance between the two of you. You can smell his cologne as you walk next to him, the breeze in the air making the hair on your arms stand up.

You press your hands across your arms, entering the gazebo with Satoru. The two of you take a seat on the bench in the middle, keeping a respectable distance.

“Y/N.”

“Can I say something first?”

He nods, leaning over the bench to meet your eyes. The only light in the gazebo is from the tiny, sparking fairy lights around the interior, the moon shining through the openings on the side. You can’t help but wonder if things were different, that this might have been the happiest moment of your life.

“I would like to be married by name. I figure you have a girlfriend, that girl from the pictures in your room with the scar on her nose, and that’s fine. I’d just like to keep it up for images to satisfy both of our parents, since I figure yours are as relentless as mine.”

The two of you sit in silence, the words hanging in the air. You focus on the lilies growing by the edge of the opening, wilting in the air of the night.

“You’d be okay with that?”

“I was never expecting us to fall in love. We just have to do what we’re asked, keep our own lives outside of it.”

He nods, the silence returning. You can see the gears moving in his head, considering your offer. After a few minutes, he removes a dark green box from his pocket, sliding it over to your side of the bench. You open the box to find a sparkling, modest cut diamond secured around a gold band.

You take it into your hand, taking out the diamond ring and placing it on your ring finger. You stick your hand out, staring at the sparkling ring on your finger.

He shoots you a genuine smile, shaking his hand in yours. Deal.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, Satoru.”

He secures his hand in your own as the two of you walk back down the path. Your parents are all too delighted, everyone pressing warm kisses to your cheek as they take your hand in their own.

The business deal is set. Your parents deal with each other and yours with Satoru. You can feel Saiki’s hand shaking in yours, trying to hide his upsetness at you. You reach down to ruffle his hair, shaking your head at him as the four of you head back home.

You and Satoru are married by the end of the month.

“I have a secret.”

You’re currently standing in Satoru’s driveway, your driveway now, with your boxes lined up on the sidewalk. Your parents had insisted that you move in with him, now that you were married. You had to oblige.

All in all, your marriage with Satoru was pleasant. You guys went out to dinner every night, exchanging pleasantries over an expensive meal Satoru bought you. The two of you often shared jokes, trying to ease the tension. He updated you on his relationship with the girl, Utahime was her name, and you talked to him about work. You find out that his relationship is anything but stable, the two of them fighting like it was breathing. He likes to hear about your coworkers, the patients you saw that day, how you like the workplace.

It felt more like hanging out with a friend, but there was always an invisible, silent wall between the two of you. You were married. You had to have kids together. Grow old together. He doesn’t talk about it. Neither do you. You’ll breach that when you get there.

“What’s your secret, Satoru?”

“I have kids.”

“If there’s a zoo animal inside that house, I’ll run you over with my car.”

Satoru loves to prank you. You get irritated with him very easily, which you’re aware goads him on even more, but you can’t help it. He’s an idiot.

But this time, he places his hands on your shoulder, squeezing twice. His sunglasses are hanging from the collar of his shirt, his usually obscured eyes peering into yours. No sign of a joke in them. You gesture to the steps on the porch, the two of you sitting down against them.

“You’re a manwhore? You got a girl pregnant and then had to raise it by yourself?”

“Obviously. The woes of a single father.”

You laugh, leaning your neck back. The sunlight is sprinkling onto your skin through the leaves, the beams kissing your skin. It’s a nice feeling, the breeze tickling the wisps of your hair. You can feel Satoru staring at you through the corner of your eyes and you turn your head to the side to look at him.

“Their dad passed away. I took them in after, just because I didn’t want them to be alone. Their names are Megumi and Tsumiki, they’re five and eight. I really hope you like kids, they’re really well-behaved.”

You turn to face him, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You’re kidding right? Did you just ask me if I like kids?”

“Well yeah, you’re going to be living with them, I was just wondering.”

“Do you ever listen to me when I talk? Do you even know what I do for a job?”

“Um…”

You burst out laughing, the tears rolling through your eyes.

“You’re ridiculous, Satoru Gojo. I’m a pediatrician. Like a baby doctor. Like I full on go to work everyday and see children all day.”

He pushes you over, grumbling about how you were still laughing at him, about how it was an honest mistake to make. When your tears subside, he reaches his hand out to you, pulling you up to enter the room. The two of you shuffle the boxes to the edge of the door and pad into the foyer. Satoru grabs your hand, pulling you in to meet Tsumiki and Megumi.

Tsumiki extends her hand, introducing herself politely to you. You bend down, reaching in your pocket for the lollipops you always had in hand, and don’t miss the glowing smile when you hand it to her. You turn to your side to look at Satoru, whose rolling his eyes at you.

At the sight of Megumi, you can tell he doesn’t look quite right. His face is flushed pink, his forehead covered in beads of sweat. He can barely keep his head up, eyes wavering at the sight of you. You reach down, pressing your hand against his forehead.

“Satoru. He’s sick.”

“Are you sure?”

“Satoru, I’m a doctor. Do you have anything on hand?”

At the sound of your words, Satoru enters into a full blown panic, grabbing basically any medicine and blanket he had in the nearby vicinity. You examine him, asking his sister how long he had been feeling this way, laying him down on his back and administering the medications Satoru had brought you.

When things settle down, with Megumi’s eyes fluttering open and Tsumiki running her hands through his hair, you join Satoru in the kitchen behind them. He’s nervously watching the two of them from the back, his eyes still pinched in worry.

You link your arm through his own, preparing the parent pep talk you give your patients every day.

“It’s okay, Satoru. Kids get sick all the time.”

He nods, his eyes still fixed on Megumi.

“It was a good thing I was here, really. He’s going to be okay, I promise.”

Megumi speaks up from the couch, his grumpy voice permeating the air.

“Satoru would have killed me if you weren’t here”

You turn your head to face Satoru, expecting to find annoyance pressed on his face. Instead, he’s broken out into a full smile, shaking your hands in his and thanking you profusely.

“That’s a good sign?”

“Kid always loves to give me attitude. If he’s well enough to make a dig at me, he’s perfectly fine.”

“Can’t blame the kid. I would do it too.”

“First, I get an malevolent kid and then a malevolent wife? No breaks for Satoru Gojo.”

“Woe is you.”

You roll your eyes, joining Megumi back at his side to take his vital signs again. The two of you share a knowing look, ignoring Satoru’s joking pouts and comments in the back.

You can’t help but smile at the two of them, their soft hands clasped in each other as they fall asleep on the couch after a few minutes. After a few minutes, you and Satoru carry them back to their beds, giving each other a high five before heading to your own rooms.

Maybe it won’t be so bad.

Satoru comes home late one Friday, well past Tsumiki and Megumi’s bed times. You had to shower and tuck both of them into bed by yourself, which was irritating.

Satoru reserved Friday nights for Utahime, the two of them going on a secret date somewhere in the city. You had met her once, establishing that you had no intentions of doing anything with her boyfriend, which she was all but understanding of.

You figure that she must love him so much that she’s willing to look past it. You get it, you’d do the same if you were her.

If you were in love. In general. Not in love with Satoru, obviously.

He trails in, ten minutes past midnight to find you sprawled against the couch. You’re wrapped in three blankets, your head poking out of your little cocoon.

“You know what sucks? You got some tonight and I got to tuck two kids into bed.”

He trails to the kitchen counter, no stupid remark in response. You get up from your tiny fort, padding into the kitchen where Satoru is standing. He’s eating a box of macaroons, pushing the last one towards you to eat.

The two of you are leaning over the counter, the silence palpable.

“You okay, Toru? Where’s my usual back talk?”

“Mhm. Kind of broke up with Utahime. Don’t feel like it today.”

You push yourself onto the counter, your legs dangling over the edge. The two of you are the same level now, facing opposite directions. You lean your head against his shoulder, linking your hand with his and pressing twice.

“I’m sorry, Satoru. Want to talk about it?”

“She just got upset that I got married, that's all. Didn’t really understand that it was something I had to do. Said I was doing a little bit too much for her to make up for it and she met someone else.”

You nod, the two of you sitting in silence. You stay that way for a while, your head against his shoulder, your hand in his. You’re rubbing small circles into the side of his hand, your fingers tingling at the contact.

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“I understand.”

“You do?”

“When I got my heart broken, all I could think about was how I wanted it to be him so bad. He meant everything to me and I’d do anything to be the one next to him.”

“Heartbroken? You never told me that.”

“Yeah. It was a few years ago. He didn’t feel the same about me as I did about him.I]”

“Did you date anyone after?”

“I waited for someone, the person who was meant for me. I kind of gave up as time went on, swearing off of it all together. It’s partially why I struck the deal I did with you. If I was going to be forced to marry someone, he could at least be someone nice, a friend I could keep.”

He sits quietly, pondering your words. He’s leaned his head against yours, the two of you sitting quietly. The only sound is your breaths, inhaling and exhaling in sync.

“You think I’m nice?”

“I’m not soothing your ego.”

“Rude. I’m wounded Y/N.”

You poke the side of his cheek, rolling your eyes at him. You move closer into his embrace, now tangled in his arms. You can hear him whispering against your hair, his lips against your forehead.

“Did it hurt? When he left?”

“Yeah. But, someone told me something and it’s always stuck with me since then. I guess I was trying really hard to make it work, but things like this always sort themselves on their own.”

“What do you mean?”

“The right people were always going to stay. If Utahime and Getou were the right people, they’d still be here, Satoru.”

The two of you stay that way for a while, pressed against each other. Tsumiki and Megumi trail in at the sound of Satoru’s voice, pressing themselves against your legs.

You all sleep together in Satoru’s bed that night. You ignore the stinging in your chest at the thought of Satoru hurting.

You can feel your phone buzzing on the counter, as you tuck the last bit of flowers into Tsumiki’s hair.

toru: hurry up

toru: this kid is gonna shit his pants and i think im scaring him

you: omfg don’t tell me you gave the poor kid a pep talk

toru: kind of. told him id throttle him if tsumiki doesn’t come back from the dance with a smile on her face.

you: satoru gojo, i will hurt you. leave the poor baby alone.

Tsumiki turns around, her pale pink dress falling to her sides. You hear Satoru’s footsteps down the hallway, glaring at him as he joins you two at the door of the bathroom.

“Don’t tell me you left him alone at the dinner table.”

“Megumi is there. He’s staring him down real good.”

You and Tsumiki glare at Satoru and you turn back to Tsumiki to give her the final touches. You press your shiny pink lip gloss in her little hands, settling her hair down as you stand up. You and Satoru move out of the hallway, about to find your way back to the room, but Tsumiki stops you in your wake.

Her hand is pressed against yours, pulling you down.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing, Miss Miki. What’s up?”

“Do you think I’m pretty, Y/N?”

“What? Of course, I do Tsumiki. You look lovely. I’m sure Ethan will love it.”

She gives you a shy smile, her eyes wavering on uneasiness.

“You’re very pretty, Tsumiki. I love your dress and your eyes are all sparkly the way you like. Just have fun out there okay? If you’re not having fun with Ethan, you can always have fun with your friends instead.”

She nods, pressing her body against your frame. You squeeze her tight in your frame, Satoru eyeing the two of you on the ground.

“Thanks for always being here, Y/N. I love you.”

Tsumiki lets you go, running off into the kitchen where Ethan is very shyly handing her the little corsage he bought her for the dance. You turn to Satoru, the two of you watching him in the kitchen.

“She loves me.”

“Are you dense? You do know Tsumiki and Megumi both love you right?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t entirely sure of it. I figured they might, but I never thought they’d actually say it to me.”

You pull out your camera, snapping pictures of Tsumiki and Ethan as they press their little flowers to each other’s clothes. Ethan’s parents are waiting in the driveway. They’re driving them to the dance and you and Satoru will be picking them up.

You follow them into the driveway, waving goodbyes as the car makes its way down the road.

“Did you like school dances, Y/N?”

“I never really went, Satoru. No one ever asked me.”

“What? Not even Prom?”

You shake your head, facing away from him as you pull out the dinner the two of you were going to eat. Ice cream. Satoru’s idea, obviously.

“Why didn’t you go?”

“It’s kind of stupid, Satoru.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“You’re keeping secrets? From your husband? Who is he?”

You laugh, playfully pushing him. He gives you a smile, locking his fingers with yours.

“Cmon, tell daddy. I won’t make fun.”

“You’re disgusting. I’m filing for divorce.”

“As if.”

You look down at your hands, his pale, nimble fingers interlocked with yours.

“It’s just stupid. I wanted to go really badly, have my whole special moment. A guy who asks me to the dance, brings me a corsage, matches the color of my dress, and we dance while drinking cheap beer out of solo cups. But no one wanted to do it with me.”

He turns his head to the side, staring down at you.

“Forget it. You’re dumbass was probably Prom King for all I know. You wouldn’t get it.”

You lean against the counter, digging your spoon right into the center of the tub of ice cream, rather angrily, reliving the stupid, pitiful feeling of your teen years.

“I was Prom King.”

“Of course.”

“Hey. I’m sorry you didn’t get your moment, Y/N.”

“I’m glad Tsumiki has someone to do it with. You know, make her feel special, like she’s only girl in the room and all that.”

He presses his forehead against yours, reaching for your spoon to eat some of the ice cream with you. You swat his hand away, which he pouts at.

“It was still a good day. Tsumiki said she loves me.”

“I thought you were kidding about that. Did you really not know that we love you?”

“We?”

“Y/N. You know I love you right?”

You shrug your shoulders, staring at his blue eyes. He cups your face in his hands, squishing your face.

“As smart as you are, you’re really stupid sometimes you know that? How could I not love my wife?”

“You’re stupid.”

You pick up your phone, shooting a text underneath your desk.

you: satoru.

lanky ass mf: yes, oh beloved wife of mine?

you: sleep in the sewage, you gutter rat.

you: I forgot my white coat and my badge at home, can you pLS PLS PLS DROP IT OFF AT THE OFFICE I NEED IT

lanky ass mf: first you call me a gutter rat and then ask me for a favor?

lanky ass mf: no I love you? no light of my life, king of my heart, body, and soul?

you: I will skin you where you stand. PLS JUST BRING WHAT I ASKED

lanky ass mf: ask nicely and i’ll drop it off on the way to work.

you: oh beloved, dear old husband of mine. everyday, my love for you grows exponentially. if you could please spare me some kindness out of your cold, pitiful heart of yours and bring me my white coat in my badge, it would be much appreciated sweet thing

lanky ass mf: i’ll ignore the insult that you threw in there and bring it over in ten, oh lovely wife of mine.

you: ty satoru :DDD

lanky ass mf: ur welcome, sexy :’)

you: wanted: y/n l/n wanted for the vicious, gruesome murder of satoru gojo.

“lanky ass mf disliked your message”

You set down your phone, burying your head in your hands. The practice had been busier as of late, a viral bug passing around all of your patients. And on top of that, you had left your white coat and your badge - which you needed to round - at home. You can feel the tension headache setting in your forehead, bringing your fingers to your temple to soothe it down.

Tsumiki had a field trip today. Satoru dropped her off bright and early but she forgot her permission slip at home. You had to rush over to the school, nearly running onto the school bus to get Tsumiki’s slip in on time.

As promised, Satoru prances in twenty minutes later, your whitecoat and badge in his right hand and a bouquet of tulips in his left hand.

Asshole. You had framed a photo of Satoru, Megumi, and Tsumiki from your birthday and placed it on your desk. The three of them planned a surprise dinner for your birthday and you loved the pictures so much you just had to frame one for your office.

The problem was that ever since then, all your coworkers could talk about is how handsome your husband was. WIth his white hair, sparkling blue eyes - all they could go on about was how beautiful he looked and how cute your kids were. Multiple of them had asked you how he was in bed, which you ignored. Obviously.

You had mentioned it to Satoru in passing, which you’re sure prompted the tulips in his hand. And you know that egomaniac was about to have a field day.

He comes to your side, not missing the shining smiles on your coworkers faces, as he places the tulips in front of you. He beckons you to stand up, holding your white coat open for you to pull your arms in.

You give him a glare as you pull it on and Satoru clips your badge to the pocket.

“I hate you, Satoru Gojo.”

“I love you, sweet pea.”

You can hear your coworkers cooing quietly behind you, walking up to dote on Satoru for bringing you flowers. You can feel him drinking up the attention, giving everyone charming smiles as he secures his arm around your waist.

“Imagine if I told them all you had a girlfriend when you married me.” you whisper in his ear.

He frowns, prodding his fingers into your forehead.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.”

Satoru places the flowers at the head of your desk, dropping a glass box filled with the noodles you had last night for dinner. He leans over the counter, whispering at you as you fill out the charts for the day.

“Take a break for lunch later and eat this. I’m tired of you coming home hangry and taking it out on me.”

You take the box from him, rolling your eyes before shooting him a smile.

“Thank you, Toru. I appreciate it.”

He smiles at your words, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead before running out of the office. Asshole.

You look down at the tupperware, a sticky note pressed on top.

eat up silly wife - satoru <3

You take the post-it off, pressing it against the frame holding the picture.

“Why did your parents want to meet us again?”

You and Satoru are currently standing on the porch of his parents house, dressed up for the occasion. Satoru’s wearing a buttoned up white shirt, rolled up to his forearms again. He’s wearing a light green tie, intending to match the green, silk dress you had decided to wear.

He asked you to look your best, because he was going to ask his parents for something really important. He said bringing you would be his best bet, so that they feel more inclined to say yes at the perfect sight of the two of you.

“I thought your parents were in Bali. Did they come back early?”

“Yeah. They hated the animals so they came back.”

“The what?”

Satoru reaches forward, ringing the doorbell. The door is opened immediately, the servants answering the door. You wave hello to them all, making your way to the garden where Satoru was leading you.

His hand is clasped in yours, firmly, as he leads you to the back gazebo. He takes you to the direct center, where the two of you had first made your deal, and turns to face you.

“So.”

“My parents aren’t here.”

“I gathered that.”

“Don’t talk back.”

He reaches towards the back of the gazebo, pulling out a plastic box. In the box, there’s a matching corsage and boutonniere, pink flowers surrounded by baby’s breath. You take the box in your hand, meeting his gaze.

“You never got to have your moment. Figured I’d give it to you now.”

You smile, opening the plastic box. Satoru takes the corsage out first, securing it against your wrist. He lifts your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles as he does so. You avoid the blood rushing to your cheeks as you take the rest of the flowers out of the box.

You pin the boutonniere against his shirt, smiling at him. You’re unsure when Tsumiki and Megumi joined you, but the flash of Tsumiki’s camera catches you off guard. You give the two of them a smile and they run off hand in hand, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Like it?”

“Love it. They’re very pretty, Satoru. Thank you.”

He reaches back, pulling out a little juke box. He presses play, Ed Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud playing out of the speaker.

“Did you really pick this song?”

“You wanted your moment. That includes dancing to a cheesy, Ed Sheeran song.”

“You could have left that part out.”

He grabs your hands, placing them around his neck as he secures his own around your waist.

“Nope. Giving you the most authentic, real moment I can.”

The two of you sway, laughing into each other's neck as the song goes on. The song transitions, Taylor Swift’s Sweet Nothing blasting out of the little speaker. You press yourself against his chest, the two of you hugging as you dance in the moonlight.

“I’ve got one more thing for you.”

He reaches out, pulling out a little plastic tiara for you. He secures it on top of your head, pressing your hair down.

“I don’t get it.”

“You’re Prom Queen!”

You press yourself against him again, your cheeks burning against his chest.

“You’re stupid, Satoru.”

“You love it.”

You do love it. The tiara, the dancing, him. You love him.

The two of you return to swaying, your faces a few feet away from each others. You stare into his glimmering eyes, smiling at him. He returns your smile, rolling his eyes at your cheesiness.

“You don’t have a crown.”

“Yeah. Figured if I got to be Prom King and you didn’t during high school, then you get to be Prom Queen right now and I don’t. Even it out.”

“Boo.”

“It’s okay. I know I’m the king of your heart anyways.”

You feel your chest clench, his words sinking into your chest.

“You are.”

“What?”

“The king of my heart. Body and soul, all that cheesy stuff you say.”

“Don’t lead me on. That’s cruel, even for you little lady.”

You stop swaying, bringing your hands down to his.

“I’m being serious. You’re special to me. I was waiting for someone all my life, who made me feel special. That person is you.”

He’s staring into your eyes, the shock spreading across his face.

“You don’t have to feel the same way as me. It’s okay.”

He leans forward, pressing his lips against yours. You’re caught off guard, his hands pulling you closer.

“Toru.”

“Y/N.”

“Do you love me?”

“You’re impossible. I just kissed you.”

“I don’t know. I was a little confused, I guess.”

“I love you, Y/N. You’re my sweet, sweet girl.”

You can feel yourself blushing at his words, trying to fight the doubt settling in your mind.

“Utahime?”

“I thought about what you said. And I realized that the only person who stays by my side is you - through an arranged marriage, two kids I sprung on you, and a literal girlfriend. The right person was you, just took me a second to realize.”

The two of you stand in silence, the lights flickering above you.

“Satoru?”

“Yes, sweet girl?”

“Can you kiss me again?”

He’s all too happy to oblige. He lifts you up, slotting his mouth against yours again. You can feel his hands shaking against your face, his lips desperately pressed around yours.

“Calm down. I’m right here.”

“Cut me some slack. I’ve been waiting to kiss my wife for months now.”

You feel Tsumiki and Megumi return to your side, the two of them sporting cheeky grins at the two of you. Megumi presses something into the small of you hand and you feel for it in your fingers realizing what it was.

A ring.

“Toru.”

“Yes, sweet girl?”

He’s cradling your face and you can’t help but feel like this was going to be the happiest moment of your life. Your face in his hands, your kids hugging you against your legs, smiling at each other.

You hold the ring out, balancing it between your fingers.

“Marry me?”

You slip the ring onto his finger, the two of you walking out of the garden hand in hand like you did the first time.

part two based on enchanted linked here

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

1K notes · View notes

amethystwrytes · 19 days ago

Text

Safe. (Part Five)

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem. Reader X Lee Minho

Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous.

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Discussion of murder and physical assault. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. 18+ Only MDNI.

Chapter WC: 5K

AN: (1) Two chapters in one week feels excessive - but it's finished, and it’s Minho's BIRTHDAY after all, and also I think I’d like to start posting on Fridays anyway. (2) I don’t want to talk about the unspeakably preposterous and unbelievable practicality/mechanics of one of these smut scenes. You will know it when you see it and you will shush. *Suspension of disbelief rabble rabble*. Thank you, that is all.

~ PART FIVE ~ [Series M. List Here]

You’re setting the table for supper when you hear the key to the front door twist in the lock. Your stomach hardens and you eye Christopher sitting in the living room. You wonder when someone will be able to open your front door without you thinking that they’re going to come barreling through to hurt you, but it’s only Minho.

“You can go,” Minho casually instructs Chris, who instantly stands and gives you a nod.

“Here,” you call Christopher over, and hand him a to-go box. You made way too much and even though you’re still sore at him for spilling your secrets, you want the man to eat. He takes it with a smile and a thank you, then heads out.

Minho waits for him to shut it completely before joining you in the kitchen.

“God that smells amazing, what did you make?” he wraps his hands around you from behind, his head dipping into the small of your neck and shoulder.

“Spicy chicken, fried rice, and a cucumber salad because I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of you eat a fucking vegetable,” you smile.

He chuckles, “You take such good care of us,” he smiles against your face before kissing your cheek.

You briefly eye the front door, “Where’s Hyunjin?”

Minhos cheerful expression fades for a split second, but he plucks a cucumber slice out of the bowl and corrects himself, “He went home to clean up a bit. He’s coming.”

“You didn’t clean up?” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Love, I’ve been doing this a long time, trust me when I say I’m clean as a whistle,” he explains.

You shrug, “Okay, but it’s not polite to eat before everyone arrives, so put that salad in the refrigerator to keep it cool please,” you instruct as you slide the chicken and rice into the oven to keep warm.

Minho does as he’s told, surprisingly, then looks at you, “I’m sorry.”

Your brows furrow, “Sorry?”

He nods, “I’m sorry for what I said to you in your room that day, I’m sorry for threatening to frame you for selling drugs out of the house, I’m sorry for ever giving you a reason to think I would hurt you.”

You’d been thinking all afternoon of how you want to talk, of what you want to say to both of them this evening, but this you were not expecting.

You let out a steady breath and nod, “I guess what I wonder then, is why? Why would you say those things? If you truly never intended to hurt me, then why would you say such awful things?”

He presses his lips into a line and traces the streaks in the marble countertop.

“Well?” you urge.

“I’ve acted the way I’ve acted because I wanted you to hate me. You can’t lose people you love if you love no one and no one loves you. My feelings would be easier to resolve and manage if you hated me,” he smiles sadly, “but when you said you weren’t comfortable being seen with me, I realized having you hate me was exceptionally painful, so I did what I do when I get hurt or angry and acted like a fucking asshole. When you looked at me that day, scared and sad…I realized that I’d fucked up.”

“You are so…” you sigh, “Unstable. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” he chuckles, “I’m aware.”

You think of his wife and your heart aches for him again, “Were you ever going to tell me about her?” you wonder.

His eyes widen a bit, he doesn’t need any clarification to know who you’re asking about.

“Seola? I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “Probably…eventually. I don’t talk about her often, I don’t…I don’t like to. How did you find out about her?”

“Jisoo did my hair and makeup for the Casino night,” you tell him, you can’t quite measure if he’s upset about you knowing or not, and you don’t want to throw Christopher under the bus, despite his loose lips. Jisoo feels like a safer option.

He sighs, “Seola…I loved her with my whole heart. I told her early on that she should stay as far away from me as possible, but she wouldn’t,” he smiles. “When she was taken from me, I never thought I’d ever be able to have feelings for anyone else, I didn’t want to. Then you and I met, and at first I thought I could treat you like the other people I’ve slept with over the past few years, use you the way you were using me - for human contact, to feel good, but…” he trails off, unsure of how to explain it.

“...but it feels like more,” you finish for him.

“Yes,” he nods, stepping closer to you, taking your face gently between his hands, “it does.”

He leans down slowly, gently, and kisses your lips.

“Please don’t leave us,” he whispers, “don’t leave me.”

“Then don’t ever make me feel like I need to be afraid of you,” you whisper back.

“I won’t,” he answers.

“Don’t let them hurt me again,” you add.

“No one will ever lay a hand on you again baby, not as long as I’m breathing,” he promises.

You press your lips against his, pull his shirt with your fingertips, drawing him into you. His tongue traces the lines of your bottom lip and you greet it with your own. You melt as his hands roam your body, under your shirt to squeeze and caress the warm skin. You moan into his mouth and he pushes you against the countertops.

You feel him falter and he pulls away, the two of you staring at each other; you wondering why he stopped, and him looking hindered by something unseen.

“Do you have feelings for Hyunjin?” he asks. You were expecting this question from one or both of them at some point this evening, but it still hits you abrasively. You’re not willing to lie though. If you’re doing this, all of it, then there is no room for a growing pile of lies between you.

“Yes.”

“Do you have feelings for me?”

“Yes, I do,” you nod, lifting your fingers to his hair to play with the dark strands.

“That’s going to get extremely messy,” he warns.

“Then it will fit right in, because all of this is a mess,” you say, looking hard at the floor. He lifts your chin up so your gaze finds his.

“Is that really what you want? Both of us? I need to know.”

You think for a moment, think about how you should answer, think about what his response is going to be.

“I want you both.”

“Is it because I’m not enough? Or because he’s not enough?” he asks, and you hear the defense in his voice, the blow to his pride and it pains you.

You shake your head, lace your fingers with his, “It’s not that. Not at all. You are both more than enough. It’s because you both make me feel things that I crave, because you are two polar opposite men, who make me feel so strongly, and so good when I’m with you but in such very different ways, and maybe I’m just being selfish, I know I am actually, but I don’t want to give up the way I feel when I’m with either of you.”

Minho is about to respond when the knock on the door drags both your attentions away from the conversation.

“It’s me, Hyunjin,” a muffled voice calls out from behind the door.

You squeeze Minhos arm and he lays his hand over yours, giving you a halfhearted smile, but a smile, and that’s better than nothing.

You cross the space and open the front door to Hyunjins sweet smile, the top half of his jet black hair tied up into a wet bun, the scent of his shampoo still fragrant.

“Hi,” you smile.

“Hi beautiful.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Dinner starts out dreadfully silent. So silent in fact that you can barely touch your food. Minho and Hyunjin dig in though, stuffing chicken, rice and cucumbers in at an alarming pace that makes you smile. They’re used to silence, to awkwardness. They’ve learned to navigate it, thrive in it, and carry on regardless of the tension.

“Well, I’d ask you both how your day was but I suppose I know,” you finally attempt a joke, but it doesn’t come out like you intended it to and no one laughs, including you. You grab the cold beer you served with the chicken and take a very long swig.

Minho wipes his mouth with a napkin and gives you a soft, understanding look, “You wanted us here Love, it’s your meeting so to speak,” he says.

Hyunjin looks between the two of you as he chews his food, he seems to understand he’s missed part of the conversation, the conversation you started with Minho but this is all ass backwards and not how you wanted to start your ‘meeting.’

“Alright, yes,” you clear your throat, “I do have things I want to discuss with both of you.”

Both men take a break from eating and sit a little straighter, giving you their full attention. You realize now that your hope at a more casual conversation over food was a fruitless endeavor, these men are too serious for casual.

“I realized something today,” you begin, “I’ve realized that despite what I’ve told myself the past several months, that I am part of this organization. I’ve helped all of you at one point or another, and maybe I’ve just helped in the least criminal of ways, but I have committed crimes with you whether I like it or not. I’ve heard things, I know names, I know what you’ve done, and the things you intend to do, I am an accomplice,” you say it out loud and although it makes it real, there is a part of you that’s relieved to say it to just get it out there.

Neither Hyunjin or Minho say anything so you continue, “I was going to run, but I think that running away would just mean that I’m running straight into more trouble for myself, for one. But also…” you trail off, “but also, I don’t want to run away from either of you.”

Hyunjin looks at Minho so quickly that you think it could give him whiplash, but Minho doesn’t react to any of it.

“But before we talk about that, or what that means, or how to even navigate it, I have terms I’d like to lay out,” you look at both of them.

“What are your terms Love?” Minho asks, all business, and you wonder if he’s about to produce a pen and notebook to take notes in.

“First, I don’t like the way some of your guys speak to me as if I’m your personal fuck toy,” you say.

“Seungmin.”

Hyunjin and Minho say his name simultaneously.

“Okay yes, Seungmin, but I don’t want him punished or whatever. I would just like it made clear that while we don’t have to like each other, we don’t need to speak so disrespectfully to one another, and not to sound like a child but he always starts it,” you take another swig of beer. Minho looks as though he’s holding in a chuckle and this puts you at ease a bit.

“It will be made clear to him and to all my employees that you are to be treated and spoken to with absolutely nothing but respect,” Minho nods with a smile, “What else?”

“I don’t want to know everything, I don’t need to know everything, but I also don’t want to be treated like Christopher - as just an employee who does as she’s told and is only told the bare minimum. I want to be trusted, and I want you to talk to me freely about things that you need to get off your mind, or things that impact me in any way,” you say.

“Trust is earned,” Minho says, “but after everything you’ve been through, I believe you’ve more than earned it, so done.”

“Finally,” you take a breath, “it’s been hard for me since the night I got attacked to be alone here, or anywhere for that matter, and I know you both have things that need done, that you can’t be here all the time, and I appreciate Christopher, and Jisung, and the others…but I want you two - not necessarily at the same time - but I want the two of you.”

The room sinks back into that familiar silence again and you wait impatiently for someone to say something, you fork some chicken and stuff it in your mouth for something to do.

“Fine, I’ll be the one to say it,” Hyunjin half laughs, “Are we talking about fucking each other or protection detail?”

It’s Minhos turn to take an uncomfortably large swig of beer and you have to force the small bite of chicken down your throat roughly.

“I…well…” you stutter, “In this specific moment I’m talking about who is here in the house with me,” you clarify.

“And what about outside this specific moment?” Minho asks for more clarification and you realize that the time has come, whether you were ready for it or not, to tell them both what you actually want. Is it what you want? You’ve never attempted a relationship that had more than two people in it, but none of those relationships turned out very well so you can’t really cite them as reliable sources, can you?

“Honestly?” you inhale deeply and let it go, “Honestly, I wouldn’t be opposed to having you both in the other way at the same time, I’ve never done that before, it would be my first time - but the thought of it makes me wet just imagining it.”

Hyunjin bites his bottom lip and sits back in his seat. To say you’re suddenly feeling warm is an understatement, so you chug the rest of your beer then get up for another.

“What do you think about that?” Minho asks Hyunjin.

Hyunjin licks his lips and you think you might combust, “Well, it wouldn’t be my first time,” he says with a smile that might be a little too proud, “it could be lots of fun,” he says avoiding eye contact with Minho and only looking at you. You swallow hard.

“How many times have the two of you…” Minho starts, but you answer before he can finish.

“Hyunjin and I have never had sex,” you tell him, trying to keep any emotion from your voice like how it’s a bit disappointing that you’ve not slept with Hyunjin, or how you’re scared that Minho will be upset if you’d said you had, or how excited you are that you might actually get fucked by both of the men sitting with you at this table.

“Hmm,” Minho nods, “I see.”

“What do you think about it, boss?” Hyunjin finally looks at him, “We both said we didn’t want to share after all.”

Only Hwang Hyunjin could look at Lee Minho and say that without it sounding like a challenge, like a threat.

Minho exhales slowly and shrugs, “It may be a shock to some, but I’m not a closed minded man, however, I am a possessive one,” he looks at you and chews on the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing with consideration, “so the answer to your question is that I’m not sure.”

Your heart sinks a little, and you’re unsure of what to say.

“We can work with possessive,” Hyunjin says, the corners of his mouth slipping into a coy smile, as if he’s flirting with Minho and your clit throbs, you can feel the way you’re soaked and you press your thighs together.

“Oh?” is all Minho responds with.

“Mm,” Hyunjin nods, “I’m not a power player, I don’t have to be a top, I don’t have to be a bottom, I’m not picky, and you should know by now I’m very good at being told what to do.”

You watch as Minhos expression changes, he looks at Hyunjin in a way you’ve never seen him look at any of his guys before, and then he looks at you, “You’re being awfully quiet now darling.”

It takes you a solid three seconds to realize he’s talking to you, you’re gripping the neck of your beer so hard it might bust.

“I’m just, thoroughly enjoying this conversation,” you grin.

“How much?” he asks.

Well. That was an invitation if you’ve ever heard one. You swallow your sip of beer and stand, shuffling out the wrinkles of your cotton skirt and step closer to him, “Would you like to see?” you ask, bunching up the skirt in your fists higher and higher until the tops of your thighs are exposed.

Minho chews his lip as his fingertips trace delicate lines up your legs, finally disappearing beneath the fabric, pushing your panties to the side so he can swirl them in your arousal. You gasp, tilting your head back as he moves his fingers against you.

“My, my,” he whispers, voice gravelly with want, and he looks as if he wants to knock everything off the table to fuck you on it. You wouldn’t be opposed.

Hyunjin sits motionless on the other side, watching, and though you’ve never really considered how it would make you feel, you find that having him watch feels very good.

Minho removes his fingers from your cunt and uses them to motion Hyunjin over. Your heart starts pounding. Hyunjin moves slowly, but you can see his erection straining against his pants.

“So Hyunjin has never played with you?” Minho asks, his eyes on Hyunjin.

“We’ve kissed…” you manage to speak between catching your breath.

“But he’s never tasted you? Your pussy that is?”

You shake your head back and forth.

“Go on then,” Minho looks at him darkly, touching Hyunjins mouth with his fingertips, spreading your slick across his bottom lip. Hyunjin sucks Minhos fingers into his mouth hungrily, a groan escaping from somewhere deep in his chest.

“I have to admit, knowing he’s not had you is pretty satisfying to me,” Minho chuckles, yanking his fingers from Hyunjins mouth, “I wonder how far I can push him before he comes undone?” he stands from the table, “Has everyone eaten? No ones starving anymore?” he asks the two of you and finishes off his beer.

“Not for food,” Hyunjin comments and winks at you.

“Then let’s go to the living room, shall we?” Minho grabs your hand and pulls you forward, Hyunjin following close behind.

Minho kisses you deeply, then takes a seat in the armchair, “Why don’t you help our girl out of her pretty clothes?”

“Gladly,” Hyunjin whispers, taking the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head, he tosses it across the room then drops to his knees as you unzip the side of your skirt. He helps you shimmy it down into a pool of fabric around your feet and you step away from it. Hyunjin looks up at you, his eyes scanning your body, and he hooks his fingers into your underwear, pulling them slowly down your legs.

“Don’t even think about putting your lips on her, not yet, I say when,” Minho instructs from the chair. Hyunjin freezes as if that’s exactly what he was about to do.

“Yes sir,” Hyunjin grins.

You want to interject and say that if Minho doesn’t give the go ahead soon, you might be the one coming undone, but you stay silent, you’re not sure what to do anyway, and something in your gut tells you it needs to happen like this, for them, in order for Minho to be right with it.

“Sit on the sofa, Love,” Minho tells you and you sit, like a good girl, on the sofa then look at him for further instruction. He laughs, “You look so eager darling, so fucking turned on, do you want me to be nice for you?”

“Yes,” you nod frantically, “Please.”

“Do you want him to taste your cunt finally?”

“Mmhmm,” you keep nodding, leaning back into the cushions, kneading your breasts.

“Spread your legs for him, so he can see how fucking gorgeous you are,” he instructs.

You nearly go out of your mind watching Hyunjin crawl between your legs, his fingernails raking red lines up your thighs. Hyunjin looks behind at Minho for permission.

“First,” Minho halts him, “take your shirt and pants off, you look dreadfully uncomfortable.”

Hyunjin smiles and tears his shirt over his head, then stands briefly to remove his trousers before resuming his position between your legs.

“Now, make our princess cum,” Minho grins.

Hyunjin does what he’s told, but he also takes his sweet time, licking and sucking kisses on the inside of your thighs and you wonder if he’s savoring the moment like you. This heated, passionate affair that seems to have been building up since the night you sewed stitches into his side.

Finally, he grabs hold of your thighs roughly and drags you to the edge of the sofa, “you ready Doll?”

“God, yes…”

His tongue is eager against your flesh, but in true Hyunjin fashion, is also quick, soft, controlled and deliberate. He was told to make you cum, and he’s honing in on that target like his life depends on it.

“How does it feel, baby?” Minho asks and you manage to turn your head towards him, “let’s hear you.”

“It feels so fucking good, he’s so good at it,” you whimper, looking back down at Hyunjin. His eyes lock with yours and you watch as his tongue appears and disappears between your folds. You rest your head back onto the sofa and moan, your hips beginning to move in time with his mouth, you’re so close.

“She’s about to cum, I can tell by her face,” Minho smiles, and you nod, unable to verbally confirm this, “let go baby, cum for him.”

Minhos deep, gravelly command paired with Hyunjins soft tongue lapping at you pushes you far beyond your capacity to hold yourself back. Your body quakes as your orgasm ripples over and over, your clit becoming so sensitive you have to physically push Hyunjins face away with your hands and plea with a quiet “stop.”

Hyunjin is totally out of breath as he sits back on his ankles, he wipes his mouth with his arm, eyes dark, and looks at Minho.

“How close are you to busting?” Minho chuckles.

“Very.”

Minho licks his lips, then unzips his pants, releasing his own cock from the confines of his clothes. He strokes himself gently then nods his head towards you, “Go on then, she loves getting fucked right after you eat her out, don’t you baby?”

“Yes,” you groan, “Very much.”

Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate a moment before ripping his boxers down and kicking them away, he takes your shoulders and shoves you down onto the sofa, propping one of your legs on the back and sliding between.

“I don’t know how long I’ll last,” Hyunjin warns.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, “you don’t have to make me cum again.”

“Yes he does,” Minho says coolly from the chair, “yes he fucking does.”

“Heard,” Hyunjin manages to tease.

Hyunjin lines himself up with you as you dig your nails into his shoulders, desperate for it, needing it. He pushes in slowly, and your eyes lock as he fills you to the hilt. Your lips part and you wiggle a bit, urging him to move, he does. He’s going impossibly slow, his brows knitted together in concentration.

“Fuck you’re perfect,” he moans, his hips speeding up just a bit. You can’t help but steal a look at Minho, who watches you both from the same chair he’s been sitting in, slowly stroking himself, lip tucked tightly between his teeth.

You lift your hips a bit to meet Hyunjins thrusts, sliding your hands down his sides, around his thighs to pull him closer, deeper.

“Hyunjin,” you whisper, his name a plea for him to do something, though you’re unsure of what. Feeling his cock drag in and out, hitting some delicious spot within, watching Minho look and hearing his little gasps every time you whimper or moan might actually be your undoing.

Hyunjins movements become more desperate, more erratic, and you’re sure he won’t be able to hold himself back much longer. You take his face in your hands and he looks at you, “Make me cum,” you gently drag his hand down to your neck, his breath stutters as he wraps his long, delicate fingers around your throat to hold you down gently while he fucks into you. You push back with every thrust, causing a rough but welcome collision and you cum so hard around his cock that you can feel it in your very bones. You cry out, hips bucking just a bit off the sofa as you spasm around him.

He thrusts into you only twice more before freezing, his breath escaping in a muffled moan as he buries his face into your neck.

Hyunjin pulls you towards him and captures your lips with his.

“Perfect,” he whispers.

Minho finally makes his way to the couch, Hyunjin moves aside, practically collapsing.

“Feel better?” Minho smiles, rubbing circles on your legs.

You nod, claiming his hand in yours to lace your fingers together.

He looks between your legs, “You’re a mess,” he drags the back of his finger up your slit, swirling Hyunjins leaking fluids around your own. You shudder with a gasp at the stimulation.

“Come, let’s go upstairs,” Minho stands and extends his hand to you; he pauses briefly in front of Hyunjin and stares, then caresses his jawline with his thumb, “you did good, impressive. Come on.”

Minho leads you both into the master bath where he reaches into the walk-in to start a shower. You step close to him and start undoing the buttons of his shirt, looking up at him as he strokes your hair. You continue silently undressing him until the three of you stand totally naked in the middle of your steamy bathroom.

Minho grabs your chin with his fingertips and draws you into him, his mouth desperate for yours and your lips crash together with urgent moans. In your peripheral you can see Hyunjin step into the shower and rinse himself off, he reaches out and tugs on you and Minho, who barely takes his mouth off you to shuffle into the warm water.

“Is this what you wanted?” Minho asks in a grunt as he picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. “Wanted to be our needy little slut, so fucking pretty and sweet, getting fucked out by both of us?” he whispers as your back presses against the cold stone of the shower wall.

You grin like the cheshire cat and nod, “Mmhmm.”

Minho smiles and shakes his head at you before his lips overtake yours again, and you also feel Hyunjins hands roaming as he puts himself between your back and the wall, his body much warmer and less scratchy than the stone. You can feel Minhos hard erection sliding against your soaked pussy and your breath hitches. Hyunjins wet hands slide around your body and he fingers at your nipples, stroking and squeezing. Minho leans in and you watch through the steam as he takes Hyunjins mouth with his own, his cock rubbing against your clit as he positions himself to fuck you against Hyunjin.

This exceeds even your highest expectation of what this experience would be like. Feeling Minho bouncing you on his cock while you listen to the two of them moan into each others mouths, Hyunjins fingers circling your clit gently while the other hand takes turns playing with your breasts and yanking your hair to tilt your head back for neck kisses.

“Fuck,” you whine, the impossible ache inside you is building again, you can’t remember the last time you orgasmed three times in one evening, or if you ever have, but you’re going to.

“Gonna cum for me Love?” Minho presses his forehead against yours, breathless, pumping his hips up into you.

“Yes,” you half laugh in delirium, “Fuck, yes keep going…”

You can feel his fingertips digging into the sides of your ass, feel how desperate he is to finish, you lean your head forward to kiss him, sucking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting as you reach your high. Your orgasm comes out in a choked gasp, your body completely spent, and you feel him pull out a bit and spill himself all over your cunt.

Hyunjin washes you off while Minho catches his breath then the three of you, unbothered to put on clothes or even dry off, collapse on your bed, drops of water everywhere but no one caring.

You’re not surprised that Minho pulls you in immediately, wrapping his arm around you tight - possessive.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you sigh, eyes already shut and sleep getting closer and closer to overtaking you.

“Pleasure isn’t a bad thing people,” Hyunjin yawns, switches off the lamp, then flips to his side to properly sandwich you in. His long, lean arm draped over you while his fingers massage circles on Minhos shoulder. “It’s not this thing that has to be confined in a specific little box, used for one specific purpose at a time like it isn’t supposed to just be this fun, enjoyable thing-,”

“Hyunjin?” Minho grumbles with closed eyes.

“Yes boss?”

“Stop talking and go to sleep.”

“Yes boss,” he laughs.

Endnotes:

I think I'm going to try to tag my taglist besties in the comments this time and see how that goes and where it takes us.

As usual, if you've made it far enough to read this, here's your virtual smooch <3

#skz fanfiction #hyunjin fanfiction #Lee know fanfiction #skz smut #hyunjin smut #lee know smut #skz romance #hyunjin romance #Lee know romance #stray kids #hwang hyunjin x reader #lee know x reader #happy birthday lee know

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