Writing Dump

The weekly movie night at the dorm involved a big screen, the dark, too much beer and a bunch of kids in the same department at university staying up all night watching a horror movie. Or worse if it was something Panda had picked. This time it was just another slasher that Yuji had entirely memorised was playing in the background. 

Nobara was draped over Maki, who had half buried her face against Yuta’s chest. And Toge was quite literally sitting crosslegged on top of Panda, who was snoring away into oblivion and leaving a puddle of drool under him. Which somehow didn’t bother anybody at all. 

And finally, the light of his life, and his beloved boyfriend, Megumi on his lap. He was nestled comfortable against Yuji’s chest, half hard and leaking under the blanket that was loosely draped over them. Quiet enough that the others who were still awake were more focused on the movie than the fact that the blanket would shift slightly every few seconds from where Yuji’s warm palm was slowly stroking Megumi’s rapidly hardening cock. His breathing was growing uneven, hiding a smile, Yuji pressed what he assumed was a reassuring kiss to Megumi’s neck. 

Apparently it was not, given the death stare that was levelled at him, despite the dark flush spreading across his cheeks and neck, visible to him even in the flickering dull lights from the screen. 

“You’re such a good boy for me, ‘Gumi. Letting me touch you during movie night. Can i make you cum? Lemme make you cum. Pretty please?” He mumbled against his shoulder as the female lead on the screen started screaming and running away from her assailant. 

Megumi twitched in his hand, his lips pursed up tight as if he didn’t trust himself to not moan. Which Yuji figured that he probably didn’t. One of his favorite things about his boyfriend was how beautifully vocal he was in bed. With his soft moans and whimpers. And the begging. 

The mere thought of it was enough to get him hard. He gripped Megumi’s hip with his free hand, shifting him slightly so that his cock was nestled comfortably against his ass. “You make me so hard, pretty baby. See what you do to me? If it was just us, I would’ve had you ride me till you cried, baby.” He murmured, kissing the shell of his ear and feeling him tense up on top of him. 

He tightened his grip just a little, stroking with more purpose while his other hand snuck under Megumi’s hoodie to rub slow circles over his stomach. Megumi’s thighs tensed, toes curling under the blanket.

The movie’s soundtrack swelled. Someone was getting brutally murdered.

Perfect cover.

Yuji felt the exact moment Megumi started falling apart — the way his cock throbbed hard in his palm, the tiny, broken sound he tried to choke back. The sound disappearing into the screams emanating from the tv. 

“Come on, pretty baby,” Yuji coaxed, lips brushing his ear. “Cum for me. No one will know.” 

Megumi’s whole body went rigid. His head dropped forward as he came with a silent, shaking gasp, spilling hot over Yuji’s fingers in thick pulses. He kept stroking him through it, slow and gentle, milking every last drop while Megumi trembled and clenched his jaw so hard it looked painful. It probably was, Yuji guessed, pressing an absentminded kiss to his temple. 

When Megumi finally sagged back against his chest, boneless and breathless, Yuji kissed his nose and whispered, voice full of affection, “Good boy… my perfect Megumi.” 

He carefully pulled his hand out, licking a stripe up his messy fingers while Megumi watched with hazy, horrified eyes. Yuji just grinned, bright and shameless. “Next movie night… I’m fingering you.” 

Megumi was definitely going to kill him later.

Totally worth it.

Toji, the "boy" in question, finally turns to look at you, properly, judgement clearly written on his face. "You're half my size. It'll be a miracle if you could even reach my face."

You gave him a dirty look from where you were perched on his lap, your back firmly pressed against his front and his broad, strong arms wrapped around your waist. His eyes flick back to the races, keeping an eye out for his horse. Trailing a finger down his cheek, you lean in to murmur in his ear. "Toji..."

He looks at you warily, probably more wary than he had been when he'd been surfing the dark web to look for someone to "provide" for his "needs". And then he'd seen you. Young, obnoxiously rich, smart, classy, and beautiful. Not to mention human. So, very, very human.

"What d'ya want?"

You mutter something obscene under your breath, fully aware that he could hear you before speaking properly. "Let me pick the next ones. I think I know how to choose the horses."

"Isn't this your first time at the races? How about you don't worry that pretty head of yours?"

You let out a long suffering sigh, absentmindedly flicking open the collar of his shirt. Something silk that he definitely never would've got for himself when you'd first met. Maybe your excellent taste was finally rubbing off on him.

"How about we make a bet then?"

His ears immediately perk up at that. Hook, line and sinker. He was so easy sometimes. "What's the bet?"

"You let me pick the next horses. And you can pick whatever you want. We bet against each other, essentially. And then if I win, you shut your pretty mouth when we go play blackjack tonight and be my arm candy. But... If you win. And that is a small small chance that you do..." You trail off, shrugging slightly, letting him finish.

"I get to do whatever I want?" He guesses.

"Anything you want." You promise. "You won't win but yes. Anything you want."

He hums, thinking about it and running his tongue over his fangs absentmindedly. He was a vampire of course. A terrible one at that but a vampire nonetheless. "Let me drink from your thigh."

"You don't need to win a bet for that to happen you know that, don't you?"

"In public."

You tut disapprovingly. "Freak. But sure."

He grins. The little shit has the nerve to actually grin. All teeth and bad decisions, like he’s already picturing it — like he’s already won.

You almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

“You’re gonna regret this,” he says, settling back like he owns the outcome already, his hand absentmindedly brushing your ribs as he pulls you back with him.

You don’t even look at him, not bothering to hide your confidence. “I never do.”

**~~

“This is bullshit.”

You don’t even pretend to not smile.

The crowd erupts around you, cheers rising as your horse clears the final stretch clean, effortless, first by a margin that’s honestly a little embarrassing.

You hum, pleased, watching the finish line like you personally arranged it.

Beside you, Toji looks like he’s been personally wronged by the concept of probability. “That horse was shit,” he mutters.

“Was,” you agree lightly. "Two rounds ago and you'd be right."

He clicks his tongue, jaw tight, eyes still fixed on the track like staring hard enough might reverse time. “You cheated.”

You finally turn in his lap, shifting just enough to face him fully, one arm draping lazily over his shoulder and curling your fingers into his soft hair at his nape. “Did I?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

He pauses. Because he has absolutely nothing. “…You just did.”

You beam. God, you’re insufferable. “I believe,” you say sweetly, leaning in just enough for your voice to drop, “you owe me something.”

He scoffs immediately. “Yeah? And I believe your horse got lucky.”

“Mm,” you hum. “Say that again tonight when you’re holding my chips.”

His eye twitches. “You’re being annoying,” he says flatly.

“You’re being a salty little broke ass,” you shoot back without missing a beat.

“…Low blow.”

You smile, all teeth. “You chose this life. You want me, please. Don't be so delulu, 'Ji.”

He shifts under you, grip tightening briefly at your waist — not enough to move you, just enough to remind you he could, as easy as breathing. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I’m enjoying it exactly the right amount.” You tilt your head, studying him like something you’ve already bought and are now deciding how to use. And technically, that was exactly the relationship you both shared. “Go on,” you add lightly. “Say it.”

He narrows his eyes. “Say what?”

“That I was right.”

“Fuck no."

You sigh, long-suffering, dramatic. “This is why you lose.”

“Because I don’t kiss your ass?”

“Because you don’t listen to me.” You reach up, thumb brushing just under his eye, like you’re checking for something. “Terrible habit.”

He swats your hand away, halfheartedly, he was rough usually but always so gentle with you.

Whipped.

He was so pussy-whipped that it wasn't even funny.

“Whatever,” he mutters, looking back toward the track again, arms crossing like he’s done with the conversation.

You lean in, lips brushing just shy of his ear—not quite touching.

“Don’t sulk,” you murmur.

“I’m not sulking.”

“Don't pout then.”

He splutters, indignant. “I’m not POUTING, fuck you.”

“You are,” you repeat, softer now, pleased. “It’s cute.”

He goes still. “Don’t call me cute.” He mutters.

You pull back just enough to look at him, eyes bright with something dangerously close to delight.

“Fine,” you concede. “Pretty, then.”

He glares at you like you just killed his horse.

And you laugh. Light, careless, entirely too satisfied, shifting back against him like you’ve won more than just a bet.

You definitely were not supposed to be there.

And you more than definitely were not supposed to be outside your rooms in the middle of the night, creeping around the estate like some sort of thief. 

Even if the estate was “your father’s.” 

** ~~

It had all started three months ago, when after spending the night drinking away at some office party, you’d stumbled back into the tiny apartment you owned in the middle of Shibuya. You’d been lucky to find it, but the rent every month made you want to personally pick a fight with the entire housing industry. 

You’d only managed to kick off your sensible flats at the door, face planting into the small hall opening up into your place, when your PC had lit up with a notification. 

Special Event: JJK Verse 

Forgetting the fact that you were barely functioning and had the coordination of a newborn, you’d settled in your chair, starting up your favorite otome game. Half-lidded eyes fixed only on the dark-haired presence in the small corner of the banner of the screen. 

Toji Fushiguro 

You squealed, resisting the urge to wrap your arms around the bulky screen in your need to hug him and maybe get a close-up of his beautiful, perfect, 2D face. Like you could burn it into your mind.

** ~~

You barely remembered the Special Event because you’d woken up the next day, in a bed far, far bigger than one that could fit inside your apartment. Outstretched, your fingertips barely brushed the edges of the bed. 

It had taken you a hot minute to get your bearings. And you’d completely forgotten that you were supposed to be the villainess. 

That had created problems. 

To a certain degree. 

Namely, in the form of the devastatingly handsome head of staff, Toji Fushiguro. With his thin-rimmed silver glasses, dark green eyes, and a jawline sharp enough to cut someone. And that adorable furrow between two perfectly shaped eyebrows. And that annoyingly perfect look of disapproval when his lips pursed everytime you opened your mouth.

An embarrassing number of dishes had been broken in his presence. You couldn’t help yourself! When your fave is living and breathing and sharing the same building as you, were you supposed to keep it calm?

Absolutely the fuck not.

You were supposed to throw yourself at him, have him knock you up, and get married. Not necessarily in that order. 

Unfortunately, your current reality had other plans.

Chief among them: Toji Fushiguro did not like you.

At all.

He tolerated you. Barely. 

Which, to be fair, was already a significant upgrade from what the original villainess had going for her.

But ideally, it would be a little less… clinical.

Less:  “My lady, refrain from interfering with staff duties.”

And a little more: “My lady, I would die for you.”

** ~~

Too bad these things took time. Which, unfortunately, was not on your side. Leaning into your role as a villainess came with its own perks, but that also meant there was a price on your head in the form of an executioner, but that was not the point. 

You were omnipotent in this world. 

Which was why you were in the library, examining documents you had no business to, settled comfortably in Toji’s chair. Pretending that you couldn’t smell the sweetness of pine and the spice of whatever he used in the bath. 

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Came a familiar, clipped voice. 

You immediately perked up, an expression of pure innocence on your face. “Pardon me?”

“Get out of my office.” He muttered, finally stepping into the light, his usual dark gray coat nowhere to be seen and his black shirt rolled up to his sleeves, his collar more open than it was usually, giving you a sneak peek into his smooth sunkissed skin. His hair was slightly messy, sticking up in all directions. Kind of like a sea urchin. You were sure it was as soft as it looked. And those glasses. You swooned. Those glasses were slightly crooked on his nose, and all you wanted to do was run your fingers over his cheeks and fix them. Maybe kiss him once or twice while you were at it. 

You were drooling. 

Swallowing, you wiped your mouth, clearing your throat. “You do realize that you work for me, right?”

“I work for your father.” He corrects you. 

“And I could have you punished for your tone.” You object, half wondering how long it would take for him to snap and shake some sense into you.

“Try me.” He says easily, sitting down at the edge of his desk and looking down at you, taking the papers from your hands. “What are you going to do, my lady?”

A shiver goes down your spine at his words. He didn’t mean it like that, did he?

“I can think of several things.” You say carefully, fingers inching closer to his thigh as you lean in towards him. 

His eyes drift down to your mouth before back up to your eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Look, I have no clue what has… Afflicted you these past few months.”

You shrug. “Maybe I’ve started being more honest with myself.”

He literally snorts at that, not believing your words for a moment. “Right.”

“It would be ideal if you would start to court me.”

“...The fuck?”

“I believe that comes after successful courtship.” You say blandly, hiding a smile.

He stares at you like you’ve just grown three heads. Like trying to figure out whether you have indeed lost your mind or if this is another one of your extremely inconvenient choices. Choices that would have him bear the consequence. “This is a ridiculous joke. Move your hand.” 

You slide your hand closer, just enough to feel the heat radiating from his thigh. “It’s really not a joke. I’m serious.”

“You’ve lost your mind.” His eyes find your hand, but he doesn’t make a move to push it away, to put distance between you both. And you were taking it as a win.

“Only in my love for you.”

“There’s something very wrong with you.”

“Absolutely. These are the feelings of someone in love.”

He continues to stare at you, like he can’t tell if he’s dreaming or if this is an elaborate prank to get him fired. 

Well, you wouldn’t mind getting him fired if it meant he would be in your care? Your debt? Something. He would definitely be more in your orbit than he was now. You were a villainess after all. You had to get your hands dirty. Besides, you were more than happy to be the provider in this relationship.

“You’re the one who told me to try.” You point out, looking up at him through your lashes, pretending you didn’t know that your robe had slipped open a little too much.

He had a lot of self-control. It would be impressive if it didn’t make you want to scream. His gaze stayed fixated on yours. “Go sleep, my lady.” He says, finally, standing up and turning away, his voice only slightly softer than before. “And try not to wander too much at night.”

You smirked, clearly pleased at winning this round, as you stood as well, deliberately keeping within a hand’s distance of him.. “Try not to think about me too much, Toji.”

The use of his name was casual, intentional. 

You heard a soft exhale, your smile only widening as you walk to the door. 

“Wait.”

You turned around, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, like you’d not expected this at all.

“Fix your damn clothes.” He mutters, looking away and pretending to busy himself with some papers. 

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head before you adjust your robe, quietly leaving his office. 

“Satoru.” Suguru almost purred from where he was half-buried in the blankets in bed, his dark spilling behind him and stark against the pale sheets, the moonlight glossing over his bare form. 

Satoru turned from where he was hunched over his table, reading some extremely ridiculous proposal, eyes softening as he looked at his boyfriend-bodyguard waiting patiently for him in his bed. “I’m not feeling very protected right now.” He drawled. 

“Come here, and I’ll protect you.” He drawls, shifting slightly and blanket slipping lower, revealing his toned chest. 

“You’re trying to seduce me,” Satoru says accusingly, not the least bit bothered as he gets up, pleased to have an excuse to leave the work behind. He makes his way to the bed, joining Suguru there and straddling him. 

Suguru looks at him, amused, hands resting on the backs of his thighs, rubbing absentminded circles there. “I am definitely not trying. Because it's working, isn’t it, my prince?”

“It’s working.” He agrees, leaning down and capturing his lips in a warm, open-mouthed kiss. “It’s definitely working.” He murmurs against his mouth as he kisses him again. Suguru let out a quiet laugh against his mouth, like the world outside the bed didn’t exist at all.

“Careful,” Satoru murmured, pulling back just enough to speak, his breath warm. “If you keep talking like that, I might actually believe you’re good at your job.”

Suguru hummed, thumbs still tracing slow, absent patterns against Satoru’s thighs. “I am extremely good at my job,” he said softly. “That’s why you’re still alive.”

Satoru tilted his head, pretending to consider this with exaggerated seriousness. “Bold claim for someone currently pinned under their prince.”

Suguru’s smile widened slightly, his violet eyes flickering in amusement. “Is that what this is? I’m pinned?”

Satoru leaned in again, pressing another kiss to him, slower this time, unhurried, like they had all the time in the world to taste each other. “Mm,” he hums. “Looks like it.”

For a moment, everything softened again. The blankets. The moonlight. The quiet. The warmth between them that didn’t need explanation.

Suguru’s hand shifted higher on Satoru’s thigh, reaching up to tug off his vest, fingers splayed across his waist.

And then the air changed. Like the world had missed a step.

Satoru paused mid-breath.

Suguru’s fingers stilled. “…Satoru,” Suguru said quietly.

But he didn’t finish.

Because the window didn’t open. It split in half like a crystal glass suspended in time, just as it was about to shatter.

A sharp fracture in space itself, as if something had forced its way through the wrong layer of reality.

Satoru moved instantly, too fast for anything human to follow, but Suguru moved faster.

Always Suguru. Reliable Suguru. 

He pushed up, body turning, instinct placing himself between Satoru and the incoming blade before thought could interfere.

“Suguru—!”

The knife didn’t hesitate as it found its place in the middle of his chest. Clean. Precise.

The sound that followed didn’t belong in a room like this.

Not in a bed like this.

Not between them.

Suguru froze. Then blinked once slowly. “…Oh.” His voice came out softer than it should have, faint, as if he was surprised. 

Satoru caught him immediately, hands snapping to his shoulders, pulling him upright as if that alone could undo what had already happened. “Hey, hey, look at me,” Satoru said, too fast now, smile gone completely from his voice. “Suguru, don’t you— don’t you dare—”

Suguru exhaled faintly, as if he were trying to laugh but had forgotten how to halfway. “That’s… new,” he murmured. “I wasn’t thinking I’d be getting impaled tonight, but here we are.”

Then his weight shifted, just leaning into Satoru like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The door should have opened. Guards should have arrived.

Something should have reacted. But instead, the world added another mistake.

You.

You appeared mid-step, like you had been dropped into the wrong frame of existence.

One second, nothing. The next moment, you were there.

Standing at the edge of the bed. Breathing too fast. Dressed awkwardly in finery that you didn’t know how to wear.  Eyes locked on the scene in front of you.

The blood.

The blade.

Suguru in Satoru’s arms.

And Satoru himself, still holding him, like letting go wasn’t an option the world had given him.

Your voice came out broken immediately. “I—wait— I didn’t— I don’t—”

Satoru looked at you. The softness from mere moments ago was gone so completely it was almost terrifying.

Suguru, still half-supported against him, turned his head slowly.

His eyes met yours. Not anger or resentment. Confusion. Just the quiet, exhausted kind of wondering you get when something impossible insists on existing. “…That’s not her,” Suguru murmured.

Satoru didn’t answer. His grip tightened instead. On Suguru. Like he was going to hold him together, put him back in one piece like the knife had never interrupted them.

You took a step back without meaning to. “I didn’t do that,” you said quickly. “I just— I just got here. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t… I don’t know where I am. Please. You have to believe me.”

Suguru’s breathing was shallow now, but steady in that infuriating way only trained bodies managed to be. His gaze flicked between you and Satoru once. Then back to you. “…You’re in the palace,” he said quietly. 

There’s a heavy silence for a long moment, your hands shaking where they were folded in front of you. Then, softer, Suguru speaks again: “And someone just tried to kill him.”

Your throat tightened. “Not— I didn’t— I’m not—” This was getting ridiculous. You had never struggled for words, but now you were at a complete loss as to what or how you could defend yourself. 

Satoru finally spoke, his voice flat. Cold. Indifferent. “Then why are you here?”

That made everything worse. Because there was no answer that made sense in a world that had already broken.

Suguru shifted slightly again in Satoru’s arms. A small wince. Still trying to stay present. Still trying to stay awake and coherent. “Satoru,” he said gently, like he always did when Satoru started to slip into something too sharp. “Don’t.”

Satoru didn’t look away from you, his electric blue eyes cold and assessing, his voice lowered. “I won’t let him die,” he said. It didn’t sound like a promise. It sounded like a decision. As if he’d decided that Suguru would not be doing anything that Satoru didn’t want him to. 

And in that moment, you understood, very clearly, that you had not arrived in the middle of a romance scene. Even if you knew that it had ended with a shiny ring for Suguru and a notice of abdication for the current king. 

You had arrived in the middle of something that had just become irreversible.  Something that you were responsible for. 

And the weight of those two was on your shoulders. If only you could figure out how your favorite otome game was about to become a murder mystery.