OnyxMew

It’s utterly nerve-wracking. ‘Cause he isn’t only your boss, he’s also sort of… well… really hot. Always dressed sharply in a tailored pin-striped suit and those sharp-tipped newly-polished shoes—hair slick with a fresh barbershop cut and a chiseled face to match.

He smells good, too. And it all just makes it extra awkward for you. Especially when you stay late together, alone. He’ll remove his tie and jacket, then button up his collar and roll up his sleeves—flexing those burly arms of his and that fat wristwatch that’s worth more than your entire life savings. 

That neat hair of his will start to fall apart as the late hours take their toll, getting disheveled and only sexier for it—and the way he’ll drag his ring-clad fingers through it with a groan, looking at you with such a fierce glare, you actually have to calm your breath and suppress the urge to rub your thighs together.

But although his voice is definitely something you could dream about, you could do without it when he talks down to you, always admonishing you, grumbling about what a poor employee you are, how you only give him more work to do, how he should be compensated for it. 

You’re certain he’s going to fire you soon.

And it turns out soon is even sooner than you’d thought or hoped.

This is it, you think, once he calls you into his office. He’s finally going to do it. You’re going to have to find a new job now—without a good recommendation to help you out, no less. Knowing him and how much he despises you, he’ll probably give you a really poor review on top of it all—he might even call around to make sure no one ever hires you again. 

You’re almost about to cry.

“You’re about the worst employee I’ve ever had,” he states, sitting behind his desk with you standing before him, twiddling your fingers while looking sorrowfully down at your heels, hoping he’d have enough mercy to at least make it quick. “But since firing people is fucking impossible nowadays, I’m just gonna haf’to relocate you somewhere else you won’t be damn useless.” 

You look up at that. Tears held back in surprise. 

Wait, so… he’s not firing you?

He sighs, looking through your employee files, making the changes, “And given it’s the only job open right now, starting today, you’ll be my new personal assistant.”

Gathering everything, he brandishes the documents with his signature, then looks up at you while sliding the pen and papers over.

“Think you can handle that?”

Stunned, you only briefly think about how you’re overqualified to be a personal assistant, but at the same time, you couldn’t really find it in yourself to care, blinded with relief that you hadn’t been sacked.

You just nod your head all prettily, signing just as quickly while vowing, “I’ll try my best, sir.”

He becomes significantly nicer after that—always praising you for a job well done and giving you pretty gifts on top of your paycheck, which, funny enough, is nearly double what it used to be, all the while telling you how lost he’d be without you there keeping his life together. 

You can’t help but let it all go to your head, completely forgetting that you had bigger plans than being an assistant.

He brings you everywhere he goes now. Out of the building on business meetings, out of the country on business trips. Expensive dinners, fancy hotel rooms, big yachts and galas. You can’t complain—too busy picking your jaw up from the floor—too busy to notice his leer and how he plans to keep you by his side for the rest of his life—too busy to understand that when he stays work late, he doesn’t mean doing paperwork.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Enji, Aizawa, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Naoya, Megumi, Toji, Higuruma, Kusakabe ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Muzan, Sanemi ♡ HxH – Chrollo

Tuesday is your old classmate who just moved in across the hall. 

It’s a funny coincidence, you both agree, as neither of you lives in your hometown anymore—what a small world, huh?

You’ll meet each other in the mornings when you both set out for work and small talk on your way down the stairs, then up the stairs when coming home again. It’s impressive how often it happens.

He’s always asking for the two of you to catch up—always inviting you over for dinner to talk about old times and what you’ve gotten up to since. 

You never know what to say… You don’t feel like the two of you were all that close during school, so you’ve turned him down each time, hoping if you ask him for a rain check enough times, he’ll eventually just forget.

But after coming home, tired after a grueling Monday and an even harder Tuesday, on top of realizing you didn’t have anything stocked up in the fridge, you end up agreeing to his home-cooked meal when he offers in favor of ordering takeout.

He lights up at once, “Great!”

It’s a bit of an overreaction, you think. But hey, he just moved here—maybe he hasn’t made any friends yet. It’s not easy being in a new place—he’s probably dying for some company. 

Shoot, now you feel a little bad for not having agreed earlier. You remember how it had been yourself when all you ever did was go to work every day—not knowing what else to get up to in the city. Maybe you could give him a hand, tell him about a few places—just to help him get on his feet.

“Yeah, just let me shower and change, and I’ll come over,” you say, unlocking your apartment. 

“Sure thing! See you soon!” he cheers, watching you go with a big beaming smile on his face, only turning around to unlock his own place when you’d closed your door.

He’s a little strange, you can’t help but think—or maybe he’s just that eager. Thinking about it, you don’t remember much about him from college. Honestly, he’s one of those faces that just sort of end up blending into the background. He never made any impact in class or at any parties or other gatherings. You don’t know, he was always rather quiet. You don’t remember him having any friends either. 

But whatever, people change, and he seems nice enough—maybe he was just more concerned with his average. Fucks knows you weren’t.

You shower quickly, not bothering to wash your hair or put on anything too nice. It’s only a Tuesday, after all—it should be casual. A bralette, boxers, baggy T-shirt, shorts, and slippers later, and you pop out the door and knock on his.

He’s quick to answer. “Hey! Come in, come in—it’s almost done!”

“Cool, thanks,” you say. “Smells good.”

He ushers you to take a seat at the tiny kitchen table he has. Similar to yours, actually—these apartments aren’t all that big. Still, his place is poorly furnished. But then again, he only moved in a little while ago, so you won’t judge.

He rushes over with dinner shortly. Spaghetti, meatballs, and red sauce. A classic. You’re not complaining. However, you could have done without the candles and moody lighting. It’s the kind of thing you’d expect from a corny date, but you decide to ignore it.

“Wine?” he offers despite it being only Tuesday. 

You know you probably shouldn’t, but the start of the week has been hard, and you honestly wouldn’t mind the good night's sleep that follows a few glasses of red or anything that would make the affair go over a little more smoothly.

“Sure, why not.”

And yet, it’s still a little awkward. You don’t know what to talk about—you just end up droning on about work, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Then you remember what you’d thought about earlier and start talking about some of the places and things he should check out now that he lives here. You try asking him about his work and why he decided to move here, but he doesn’t seem very interested in talking about himself.

After finishing, it isn’t long before you feel drowsy. You blame it on the wine at first—starting to think it was time you thank him for the hospitality and excuse yourself. But as soon as you get up, you’re already falling over.

No worries, though. He’s been waiting and ready to catch you for a while.

“It took you some time to agree to come—I was afraid you’d never say yes, but I’m glad you finally did… I was about to take other drastic measures…”

You’re so sleepy it’s suddenly impossible to grasp what he’s saying—as well as have any sort of grasp on the situation while you’re being carried bridal style away from the living room, through a door into a very dark room.

“I bet you don’t remember me that well, huh?” he continues as he lays you down on something soft, something that swallows your body in a way you can’t really decide if it feels nice or not. 

He keeps talking while you try to figure it out, “Hm, that’s fine. I remember you very well.”

You connect one and two associations and come to conclude the thing beneath you is a bed. It ripples and dips with the added weight once your neighbor crawls over you. Your body doesn’t yet recognize being alarmed, but something behind the fuzz that’s taken over your mind still has enough common sense to make you feel as if something’s not right.

“I just had to follow after you, you know?” he keeps rambling, but you’re only barely able to listen. “I just needed some time to save up the money and all, but I was right behind you. And made sure I’d get this apartment right next to yours.”

He looks at your pretty face—all spaced out—stroking your cheek all slow and delicately.

He sighs, “Heh, I know they say that if you love someone, you should let them go—but I just couldn’t find it in me.”

His hand travels further down—eyes following the trail. Down, down, down, until reaching the hem of your shirt.

“I had a crush on you since day one, you know?” he confesses while pulling your tee up over your bra, exposing your pretty chest to him. He licks his lips, breath shuddering, and yet he keeps preaching despite it, “All three years. I wanted to tell you, but you were always surrounded by those pesky friends of yours. It was impossible to catch you alone.”

He feels your skin with a gentle touch as if in reverence. Still, now that you’re getting used to the effects of whatever it is he’s drugged you with, you’re lucid enough to feel the treacherous hard-on he has rubbing against you. 

“Unlike me…” He stills for a moment, and something dark takes over. “I was always alone.”

Beyond uncomfortable, beyond alarmed, you’re fully terrified now. You want to scream, but you can’t find the strength to move, even just a finger. Completely limb, and yet not numb, but sensitive to all his awful touches.

“But that’s all in the past.” He smiles. “Now that I finally have you all to myself.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Tenko ♡ JJK – Yuuta ♡ HQ – Yamaguchi ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Nirei

Wednesday is the cheerful clerk who works at your local grocery store. 

You like doing your grocery shopping on Hump day. It only makes sense, after all—you’ve made it through the first half of the week and deserve to spoil yourself a little! 

He’s only just a bit older than you and yet still plays the older and wiser card—all in good fun, though, making a few comments about your lifestyle, jokingly telling you that “Candies are strictly  for the weekend, you know?” A brow quirked while looking at you slyly.

And you’ll return his banter, giggling while saying, “A little fun never killed no one.”

It’s an innocent flirt the two of you share—neither of you really expects anything in return. He’s just a really friendly guy—always coming over to help you in the store. Tall as he is, he reaches the top shelf, barely needing to stretch his arm. Sometimes, he’ll even take a look at your shopping list and help you gather everything, bag your items, and then carry them out to your car as if the two of you are the people around and the store isn’t filled with dozens of other shoppers in bigger need of his assistance.

He mostly only sees you on Wednesday, but he knows your entire life story and your day-to-day schedule the way the two of you end up talking. Usually, people would be wary of sharing things with strangers, but you trust him with so much exactly because he is a stranger—treating him no different from a confidant. No one knows you as intimately as him. He knows all your little habits—from what you eat on a daily basis to what brand of soap you use, even what type of tampons and pads you like. 

He doesn’t appreciate you eating things outside of the groceries the two of you pick together. He fucking hates it, actually—it makes it feel like you’re cheating on him. Every time you eat out, order in, go to a bar or cafe, even a fucking candy store is like a stab to his back and heart all at the same time. It drives him crazy—he might just burn all those places down to the ground. 

But he never lets any of that show when you’re in the store. It’s not your fault after all that there are so many temptations out in the world. You just need a little help saying no.

You don’t have to worry though. After he becomes your boyfriend, he’ll be that help for you. 

Yeah, all you have to do is stay home and he’ll make sure you get what you need. He won’t let you indulge as much as you do now, of course, but he won’t be too strict either, so don’t fret. 

He’ll make sure you get all the right nutrients to lead a long, happy, healthy life—get your body ripe and ready to start a family. 

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo ♡ HQ – Daichi, Kuro, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Yukimiya, Aiku ♡ WB – Suo, Umemiya, Togame

Thursday is your is your random-ass friend who’ll drop by unannounced. It’s never anything crazy, though—no, just a fun hang-out to get a little headstart on the weekend. He’ll bring a joint or maybe some gummies—he likes to keep you guessing. And the two of you will watch cartoons or shitty reality TV, play a round or a dozen of Mario Cart or the like—giggling over each other’s commentary.

He’s chill, laidback, a fan of both comfortable silences and making good conversation. A really good friend.

Yeah, a really good friend who likes sticking his tongue down your throat when you’re knocked out from all the laced drugs he keeps passing you. 

“God, you’re so clueless,” he moans when bearing over your passed-out body where you lie all comfortably oblivious on the couch. “Just a naive cutie pie who’s gonna get her gullible little pussy used.”

You make him so hard—you have no idea how he licks your face and kisses your eyelids. Drunk of the power he has over you and feeling all but unhinged because of it. 

He feels your limp tongue with his fingers, playing with it while grinding against your thigh. Breaths thick with lust—eyes half-mast, getting overstimulated by all the nasty things he’s going to do to you and how you will never ever find out about any of it.

“You know I fuck you raw every time I come over? That’s right, every single time,” he laughs and shudders in delight, whispering the truth into your ear despite knowing you’re in no state to hear it. 

“Mh, I use this body like my own personal sex doll. There’s not a spot left I haven’t touched.” He tugs down your top and takes both your tits in his hand, squeezing them as if they belong to him because, in his mind, in these special precious moments he shares with you, there’s not a part of you that doesn’t belong to him and there’s not a part of you he can’t do whatever he wishes with.

And so, he sucks and licks your pretty tits too and keeps raving, “You’re all mine, every single part of you—I own it all.”

He pulls up your skirt and strokes your cunt through your panties, sliding his fingertip through the slit as if he’s teasing you even though you’re going to stay just as unresponsive no matter what. But in his mind, he imagines it wants him—that your pussy desperately craves him without you knowing—that it’s a secret the two of them share with each other and that they're somehow in cahoots on keeping you oblivious.

“You’re always so tight and wet—it takes everything in me not to cum inside, but we wouldn’t want you figuring things out and ruining our fun, now would we?” he rambles, finally sliding your panties to the side so that he could slip his digits within, pumping you sweetly while you sleep oh-so-soundly and blissfully unaware, getting you good and ready to take his cock in the next minute.

“Yeah, it’s gonna stay our fun little secret forever.” 

♡ BNHA – Denki, Kirishima, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Karasu, Shido ♡ WB – Togame

Friday is the bartender at your go-to club. 

He’s seen you in every state of drunkenness possible—from tipsy, plastered, sloppily drunk to flat-out shit-faced. You’re a bit of an alcoholic, you know that? Once you start, you can’t seem to stop yourself. If someone puts a drink in front of your face, you dont even think before grabbing it—all laughs and zero critical thinking.

Of course, the way he overserves you, you’re bound to get fucked up.

“Wanna go home…”

He holds your drowsy body against his chest, keeping you upright.

“My shift’s done, and my place is right above here, so you don’t gotta worry,” he says, soothing you as you cling to his side, utterly unable to stand on your own two feet, flinching at the flashing strobe lights and wincing from the blaring party music—feeling as if there’s a seismic eight earthquake raging on inside your poor head.

“Where’ my friends?” your words are so slurred, they’re barely audible. 

But he hears you, chuckling before cooing at you, “Let’s get you someplace comfortable, and then we’ll contact your friends, okay? Sound good?”

You burble a few incoherent sounds before uttering out a weak, “Okay…”

“Alright then, baby, don’t worry, I got you,” he purrs in return, getting a better grip around your body as he leads you out of the club, into the elevator, and up to his flat.

“I feel sick…” you mumble, whimpering.

And he coos, “I know, baby, it’s okay, I’ll help you.”

He leads you to his bathroom, setting you down on your knees in front of the toilet. You don’t think much of it when he lifts up your little party dress and tugs it off over your head—feeling as if he’s just making you comfortable. Yeah, he's just taking care of you.

“Let’s empty that system of trash, yeah?” 

He gets down on his own knees just behind you, cradling you as he gathers your hair back with both hands—gripping it a little too tightly in a single fist before being just as rough, sticking two of his thick digits deep into the back of your throat. 

You immediately gag and throw up. 

And he hums, sounding pleased while praising you, “That’s a good girl—get it all out.” 

He doesn’t pull his digits out despite you struggling, trying to wrench away—no, he just uses his bigger body to keep you pressed and hunched over the toilet bowl while finger-fucking the back of your throat—smiling sadistically while at it.

“Come on now, baby, I know you got more in there. Let it out.”

He keeps you there for half an hour, making you dry gag and spit, mascara streaming down your pretty face as he feels your smaller body convulse under his weight. Fuck, it’s enough to make his cock pre.

“Good girl,” he purrs, petting your hair and placing a kiss on your temple, all while you shudder and sniffle. “Let’s get you washed up, hm?” 

He reclaims his harsh grip on your hair, just as tightfisted, using it to make you crawl across the tiles until reaching the tub. He takes his place behind you—trapping you between his legs, thighs, and crotch, keeping you locked against the porcelain edge while he fetches the showerhead and immediately sprays your face with the cold at full force. 

“Open up, baby, let’s wash your mouth out.”

You yelp, whining, but he finds your protesting more amusing. Finding your nose with his other hand, he pinches it shut. Making you gape and gasp for breath through the water stream. 

But he doesn’t leave it at that. No. The shower head is about the same size as your fist and proving to be just small enough to allow him to force it into your mouth—all but waterboarding you.

He has to chuckle at your fussing—you’re so weak he barely has to put in any effort keeping you in place—he nearly busts in his pants feeling it. But the best part is how when he lets go of your nose, the water starts coming up and out your nostrils.

He let’s go before you drown, of course. Snuff isn’t on the menu tonight. He’s been stalking you for far too long—he can’t just waste it with foreplay.

You collapse on the floor, shivering and coughing—head a spinning mess, still wasted, riddled with shock yet stifled by exhaustion to do anything but lie there, trembling against the wet tiles.

“No, no, no, baby, you can't fall asleep yet. The party’s still far from over,” he admonishes, giving your cheek a few small slaps before grabbing your upper arm and pulling you up. “Yeah, come here—I’m far from finished with you...”

He carries you out of the bathroom and drops you on his bed. 

“God, you’re fucking dumb,” he grabs your face, pinching your lips while giving it an ugly kiss. “Did your mommy never tell you not to go home with strangers, huh?”

Leaving you there, he goes off to find your purse.

“Let’s let your friends know you’re home safe, hm.”

You try getting up while he’s gone, crawling around in the bedsheet like a worm, but not managing to get anywhere. 

He watches you and scoffs while typing up a message, hitting send to your most recent group chat. It only takes a minute before all the dumb bitches you call friends send hearts in return, saying how fun tonight was.

They have no idea what they’re missing out on.

He saunters back to you. Enjoying every second of watching you squirm. Thank fuck for alcohol, and god bless dumb party girls.

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” He grins while grabbing your ankles and pulling you to the edge of the bed. “You’re not going anywhere, baby—you’re staying right here with me where I can have my fun with you.” 

His hands go up and down your soft skin, thinking of all the pretty marks he’s going to leave on you before curling his fingers around your slutty string panties.

The lace is all wet from his earlier actions as he tugs it down your thighs and legs, tossing it over his shoulder before spreading your legs and pulling you even closer. 

“Aw, you got your pussy all clean-shaven for me?” he awes with a smirk, “What a good girl you are.”

He’d planned on having a bit more fun with you before giving in to his urges, but seeing your pretty little cunt so ready to be fucked, he couldn't be asked to wait any longer, needing to fuck you like he’d been wanting to ever since he first spotted you in the club so many TGIFs ago.

“You sure like to party, don’t you?” he rasps while buckling up his belt and zipping himself down, letting his pants drop before grabbing his painfully hard cock. “Always at the club shaking this pretty little ass of yours—just a dumb party animal, huh?” He just knows your little cunt’s going to squeeze him tight like a trap—he isn’t even going to give you a finger test before bullying himself inside.

“Yeah, you like having fun—you havin’ fun now, babe?” he bows down, biting your cheek while putting his head to your entrance, pressing inside despite the resistance. 

He was right—you are fucking tight, taking his cock just the way he thought you would.

“Fucking slut,” he groans as he starts thrusting, hugging your thighs tight. “Begging to get gangbanged out on that fucking dance floor—dancin’ like a fucking stripper for free and for all to see.”

Fuck, how he’s going to ruin you—give you a necklace of hickies all around your throat as he fucks you into a mess, then press a beer bottle inside you once he’s done—keep his cum in you all night long.

“You deserve to be used. And I’m gonna use yah for all you’re worth.”

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Naoya ♡ HQ – Kuro, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Karasu, Shido, Aiku ♡ DS – Sanemi ♡ WB – Kaji, Togame

Saturday is a gym-bro. There isn’t a day he doesn’t go. Yep, not even Saturday.

You try to go as often as you can muster. But no, you don’t go every day, especially during the weekend—and that gives him a good reason to come up to when you do—teasing you about how he missed you last time. Acting all smug and cocky when asking you what bad habits you got up to on Friday that made you skip out.

He makes you feel sheepish standing next to him as he all but bullies you for being an itty-bitty weakling. 

He’s not exactly being fair. It’s not as if you’re especially weak compared to everyone else. It’s just that absolutely everyone’s an itty-bitty weakling standing next to him. The guy’s pure muscle and taller than most of the equipment, for crying out loud!

One time, he’d demonstrated his strength by daring you to hang from his bicep. And sure enough, he could lift you like you were nothing. Using you like a dumbbell—which is what he’ll sometimes call you.

You’re pretty sure he’s flirting with you. It’s flattering, but honestly, you think guys like him are a bit too much. His leg has the same girth as your thigh, and so does his neck—not to mention how you think he has enough strength in his hand alone to pulverize your skull in one simple squeeze.

Besides, he’s way too full of himself. You get being proud about health and fitness, but holy shit, does he never shut up? He’s always bragging about how much he benches and how many reps he does every day—and on top of everything, he seems to always be watching and studying you, commenting about your form, and mansplaining how you can get better.

He gets on your nerves. 

But then again, the guy does seem to know what he’s talking about. And after several weeks of neither seeing nor feeling much results, you finally decide to let him help you out.

And he does. Taking you through all the motions, from warm-ups to really pushing yourself, and now, the cool-down stretches. 

Though… you can’t exactly say there’s much cooling down involved in the way he has you full-feverish, sweating more than you did during the actual workout. In the locker room, suspended against his swole chest with his arms locked around your thighs, folding you clean in half, fingers locked behind your neck as he bounces you on his thick length. And fuck, even his fucking dick is riddled with muscles and veins—feeling as if he’s fucking you with an arm the way he’s stretching you out and punching your guts to mush.

“You holdin’ out, dumbbell?” he mocks, knowing you’re a mess. “Tap out any time, yeah?” 

Fuck him, you think—as if you can move your arms in this position—as if you can even speak or make any sound except full-on panting like a bitch and drooling like one too.

One more hit, and you’re spraying—and he insists on fucking you just as hard through it. Straight pounding your wet cunt until he’s sure you’re empty before dropping you back down on your own two feet.

But just because you’ve cum like a shower doesn’t mean he’s done. No, far from it, as he rushes you up against the lockers next and continues where he left off. 

The cool metal feels good against your cheek, so good you don’t even mind how he’s pressing you flat and free of air—keeping your neck in a chokehold and your hair in his other fist while fucking into you from behind.

“Trust me, this is way better exercise for someone like you,” he grunts with a grin, feeling you go limp. Your knees shot and your whole body listless, kept up solely by his strength like a puppet on strings.

He rasps out a laugh, “I’ll be your personal trainer, free of charge—just meet me after my reps, and I’ll put you to work and make sure you go home feeling proud.”

Yeah, sure, if you don’t pass out before then.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Toji ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Kunigami, Shido, Baro, Aiku ♡ DS – Akaza ♡ WB – Togame

Sunday is the religious guy who always comes and knocks on your door to share his faith. 

You don’t share his views, but you’d invited him in for lemonade and pastries once. 

You don’t know exactly why. You usually just say no thank you and close the door, but that time, well, you’d just finished making cupcakes, and the house smelled like a bakery—it seemed like a waste not to have company.

Sundays were usually so anticlimactic you never really knew what to make of them. But after that, you came to really enjoy spending them baking, always trying out new fun recipes. And before you even knew it, since he always came knocking on your door on Sundays to enlighten you bout God, it quickly became a thing of ritual for you to invite him in.

You’d always thought strictly religious people such as him were more… how do you say… fanatic? Or, at the very least, be somewhat passionate about talking about their God. But he doesn’t seem to be very interested in telling you about that at all. No, he seems much more invested in you and how you’ve been since last time.

Oh well, you think—maybe he’s more accepting of people having different life views and isn’t deadset on changing minds after all. Maybe that was never his agenda—maybe he’s simply a good samaritan going door to door to see if he’s needed or wanted. That is what religion is all about, after all.

Little do you know, though… he’s not really a religious guy at all… 

No, he’s actually a serial killer who’d been hunting for his next victim. 

He thought you were just perfect, exactly his type—pretty and kind and dumb, just like prey should be. Oh, but then, you became a little too perfect, didn’t you? Inviting him in with such big doe eyes, despite living all alone, feeding him cupcakes, and telling him tales about your life as if he isn’t a total stranger. You might as well be begging him to make you his victim.

But he can’t waste perfection. 

And so, instead of abducting you and frolicking in your screams as he cuts you up into a dozen pieces, he abducts you and frolics in your screams as he sucks your pussy into a dozen orgasms.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Denki, Hawks, Mirio ♡ JJK – Mahito, Geto, Gojo ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Tomiyama

This is normal, your therapist said, writing something down on her clipboard. They were your first relationship and the only one you've ever had. It'll be a while before you feel fully separate from them. It'll go away after a while.

And, to an extent, you resonated with her words. However, you mostly felt like you'd either die an old spinster or go back to Uraume within a few months, dealing with whatever spiteful behavior they'd send your way in the meantime.

It was your fault for bringing that up to Izumi, who had gasped like you just told her you had sex with her boyfriend. She slapped a hand on her chest so hard it echoed through the fairly-empty cafe you were in. "Absolutely not! You will not go back to that sad excuse of a person!" she halfway-shrieked, shaking her head violently. "I will personally ruin your life if you do!"

Izumi proceeded to tell the rest of your friends and, tonight, for the past two-and-a-half hours, they'd made you two different profiles on two different dating apps and had been swiping through them endlessly. Somewhere during that time, Asahi suggested that you screen mirror your phone to the TV, forcing you to partake in the process.

"This guy is suspicious," Shiori says, scrolling through a random guy's profile on Hinge. His name was Jiro, and he liked working out, going to new restaurants, and true crime documentaries.

"He's just boring," Izumi replies, tapping her chin. You shrink deeper into your spot on the couch as Asahi looked over at you.

"What's your opinion, [Name]?"

All you can muster is a non-committal shrug, pulling your blanket further up your body until it covered everything but your eyes. You just can't shake the guilt, the absolute terror of having to consider dating. When you started dating Uraume, you were barely 16. Dating wasn't even a thought in your mind. Now, you were 27 and hopeless.

Asahi frowns at your answer and looks back to the screen, chewing on her bottom lip. "Okay, okay, next. Clearly this guy isn't the one."

Shiori clicks the little 'X' next to Asahi's profile. Hinge takes a second to load the next profile, probably from the sheer amount of people you've swiped past at this point, and—

The room goes silent. You're so shocked by what's on your screen that you perk up from your blanket a bit, your mouth forming a small 'O' shape.

"Now, hold on a minute," Izumi chokes out, covering her mouth. "What in the world am I looking at?"

"God incarnate, perhaps," Shiori says, and you can't help but agree. On your screen is the most beautiful man you've ever seen in your life, with shaggy white hair and a pair of frighteningly blue eyes. He's dressed in a black compression shirt and a pair of baggy, white sweatpants, holding up a peace-sign to the camera.

Your eyes flit up to the top of the screen, and your blood runs cold. The silence continues as you all take in what you're looking at.

Satoru and Suguru.

"They're looking…for a third," Asahi finally says, the words sounding like a death chant more than anything. "Just our luck. God and he's looking for a third."

"Well, let's just see who the girl is. Scroll, Shiori. Maybe she's really hot too and [Name] can just be hot with them."

"I'm afraid to scroll. I won't be able to bear it if she's hot too."

"Not that it'll matter," you finally speak, and everyone's head whips towards you at lightening speed. "It's not like I can go from intense, decade-long monogamy to relaxed polygamy."

Shiori scrolls slowly, like she can't handle seeing who's waiting for her below the cut-off. Slowly, but surely, the second person is revealed: long black hair, thin, catlike eyes, and the most elegant smile you've ever seen in your life. It's a shot of them at the beach, sitting on a blue towel underneath the shade of a generic beach umbrella.

And, also, they're clearly a man. Satoru and Suguru are two men.

"If you don't like them, [Name], you're dead to me," Shiori says, scrolling farther down the page. There's several pictures of them, clearly from multiple different years. One of them holding up a big, fluffy, white cat, one of Satoru looking at Suguru so lovingly it makes you sick. Somewhat disapointingly, you wonder if Uraume ever looked at you like that.

You wonder if these two would look at you like that, too.

The room waits in baited breath as Shiori scrolls to the bottom of the page and you assess all of the pictures. You feel a million different ways, none of the feelings very good or welcoming. The image of Uraume lingers in your mind from the very moment you broke up with them; tears forming in their eyes, anger filling their expression.

"Sure," you say, clearing your throat. "Why the hell not."

Shiori wastes no time sending a like on one of the pictures, making a comment on their cat. She sends it off, and you swear you might feel a little more detached from Uraume than you ever have before.

—

You stand outside of a fancy Italian restaurant downtown, hugging yourself for comfort while you try to hype yourself up enough to walk inside.

It had taken less than a week for you to end up on a date with Satoru and Suguru, thanks to the excessive meddling of your friends. When you matched with them, Izumi had screamed so loudly it worried your neighbors. She forced you to message them back, staring over your shoulder while you texted them.

It didn't take you long to figure out which one was which. Satoru was, to put it lightly, bad at typing, his messages filled with typos and an utter lack of capitalization or punctuation. Suguru was the complete opposite, ending most of his messages with a period (which was scary) and using far less emojis in his speak.

For the most part, you enjoyed texting with them. However, standing outside this restaurant, you couldn't imagine this date going well. You were so nervous you could barely breathe, fingers trembling against your phone. You had already half-drafted a text to Asahi, begging her to come pick you up.

You'd arrived at 7:59, right on time, but now it was 8:08 and you were eight minutes late to your date because you were too much of a wimp to go inside. You repeat Shiori's fighting words in your mind over and over again, desperate to force yourself to go inside.

Were you going to let Uraume and their reign of terror on your life win? Were you that weak so as to pass up on a date with Gorgeous #1 and Gorgeous #2?

Your feet are moving before your mind catches up with it. You can't let Uraume win, you can't go back to them. You can't go back to never hanging out with your friends and being tracked 24/7.

The restaurant is quiet and calm, which is surprising given the sheer size of it. You're immediately stopped by a hostess, who offers you a polite smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "What's the name on your reservation?"

"It should be under Gojo," you say, hoping she doesn't notice the shake in your voice. Her eyes widen and she perks up instantly, smiling much wider.

"Oh, of course! Right this way, ma'am," she says, taking you into the depths of the restaurant. The farther back you go, the more you feel like you're marching towards your death. You spot them in a booth in the corner, smiling and giggling with each other like a couple of lovesick schoolgirls, and you consider turning around.

Satoru spots you before he can. He raises an eyebrow and waves, causing Suguru to look over at you as well. You struggle to believe they're real people, seeing them in person. They're far too perfect to be truly alive.

The host bids you goodbye and you slide into the U-shaped booth, keeping a decent amount of room between you and Suguru. "Sorry I'm late," you say, looking down at your trembling hands. "Um, I just got into a little bit of traffic. Didn't think I'd be this late, so I didn't text."

"For a second there, I thought you were standing us up," Satoru jokes, and Suguru immediately digs an elbow into his side, causing the former to yelp in pain.

"You're not funny, Satoru," Suguru speaks, and his voice is like honey on your ears. "He didn't mean that. We didn't think you were going to stand us up."

"Well, I'm glad. That would've made things awkward," you say, finding hard to look either one of them in the eye. "Did you guys make it here okay?"

"Satoru's a terrible driver, so I wouldn't say we made it here okay."

"Well, if you get your driver's license, maybe you wouldn't have to deal with my terrible driving anymore."

You watch them go back and forth contently, somewhat enjoying listening to them bicker. It helps you get rid of the nerves that plague your entire body, and coming down from the adrenaline rush makes you feel a little more excited to be there. Satoru looks over at you, going as far to put his hand in Suguru's face to shut him up.

"So, how've you been? Anything new pop up in your life? Is your neighbor still being annoying?"

You chuckle, endeared at the fact that he remembers anything about you. You make up some half-baked answer, trying to make yourself seem as interesting as possible. Suguru is much better at asking you questions, avoiding anything about your personal life.

The two of them are clearly very nice, at least from what you're seeing. They make you feel comfortable and relaxed, a stark difference to how you were feeling before coming in. Satoru insists on ordering your food, because "it's what guys do on the first date," and Suguru tells him that it's not 1805 anymore. There's no underhanded insults or vague accusations that make you feel like throwing up, no scrutiny of your outfits or the way you talk.

The two of them are just…them. It's refreshing.

Of course, you should've expected it couldn't be fun and surface level all the time. As the waitress takes away your plates, Suguru clears his throat, leaning back into his seat. At some point throughout the night, you'd moved a little closer to him, so close you could see the little details of his face.

"Not to make this terribly serious," he starts, and a sinking feeling appears in your stomach. "But I just wanted to check in with you about what Satoru and I are looking for, which is something fairly serious."

You nod, glancing over at Satoru. For the first time tonight, he actually looks nervous, like he's expecting you to reject them, or something. If you were to reject them, you think your friends would eat you whole.

"Yeah, like, not a hook-up thing, you know. If that's not what you were looking for, well, then…"

Truthfully, it's not. You weren't really sure if you wanted anything serious ever again, not after the last decade of your life being miserable. At the same time, you enjoyed their presence and the way they made you feel, so you didn't want to reject them.

Perhaps you would just feel it out, see where it went, and go from there. Casual dating is normal, Shiori insisted while rummaging through your closet. One date doesn't equal committed relationship.

"If you'll have me, I'd love to keep hanging out with you guys. In a non-hook-up-y way." You smile, twiddling your thumbs in your lap.

The anxiety on Satoru's face melts into pure joy, and, for a moment, you think you could get used to them.

—

Two months later, you hang out with Satoru and Suguru once or twice a week, and you spend the rest of your time looking forward to seeing them again. It's nice to have a little schoolgirl crush again, to not be so settled with your life and the people in it.

However, you just can't seem to get past the guilty feeling in your chest. It lingers all the time, growing when Suguru smiles at you or Satoru forces his way to the edge of the sidewalk when you're walking. It gets even worse when one of them touches you, even if it's something innocent like holding your hand or an arm around your shoulder.

Your therapist suggests being honest with them, about Uraume and the trauma you have, but every time you think you're close to letting it spill out, you can't do it. The thought of bringing them into your sweet, drama-less relationship makes you feel sick.

So, you deal with the guilt. You give them vague stories about your life and your earlier years, avoiding mention of your ex entirely. You dodge questions about your dating history and attempt to flip it back around on them, to no avail; they've only dated each other, too.

At some point, they stop asking, which you appreciate, but you can't help but think about what they say to each other when you're not there. It makes hanging out with them worse, and it makes you freak out about your life at random times.

Which is why you ended up at a 7/11 down the street from your apartment at midnight, staring at the ice cream with red eyes and a stuffy nose. Everything looks disgusting to you, but you know it'll make you feel better, so you force yourself to consider your options. Milk and cookies, chocolate chip cookie dough, cannoli—

"[Name]?"

You freeze. You haven't heard that voice in a long time; it's always reminded you of high school mean girls, tainted with a mocking lilt that you've always hated. You hated everyone in Uraume's life.

You slowly turn to the side, making eye contact with Yorozu. She's dressed far too fancy to be in a 7/11 at midnight, in a form-fitting, red dress as opposed to your bright-pink sweatpants and stained sweatshirt. "Yorozu," you huff, praying for this moment to end quickly.

"I haven't seen you in a while. You look worse for wear," she scoffs with a slight tilt of her head, looking you up and down. "Honestly, I thought you'd be back with Uraume by now. Seems your tantrum's running longer than they'd hoped."

Shivers roll down your spine at her words, chilling your entire body in a second. You narrow your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "What do you mean tantrum? I broke up with them for good. I don't want them in my life anymore."

"Sure, sure. We certainly missed having you tonight, though. You were always very personable with our guests," Yorozu smiles. You're about to ask her what she meant, but then Sukuna comes rounding the corner, and you wonder if this is a divine punishment sent to you from God himself.

He grunts when he sees you, his face contorting into an expression mixed with anger and disgust. You're sure you're number one on his hit list right now, as your break up with Uraume apparently had them calling out of work for weeks (as according to what Izumi had told you).

Yorozu's face lights up the moment she sees him, and she immediately grabs hold of his arm, leaning her head on his bicep. "Mr. Sukuna here had his book launch tonight. It was a long time coming…we were sad to not have you on the project."

Every word that comes out of Yorozu's mouth is a lie. It was more like you were sad to not be on the project anymore, given the fact that being the Sukuna's book editor was the biggest gig you'd ever gotten, but it was a small price to pay to be free from Uraume.

"Yes. The door is always open for you, [Name], assuming…"

You cringe. Were things on Uraume's end that bad? So much so that his mentor-turned-father-figure who hated your guts wanted you to come back? Maybe you weren't doing as badly as you thought.

You open your mouth to reply, but are quickly cut off by Satoru Gojo, who looks angrier than you've ever seen him before. Dressed in a suit and tie, he strolls over to you with conviction, his usual smile plastered on his face so tightly you wonder if it hurts.

"[Name]," Satoru calls, his voice dripping with venom. "Fancy seeing you here!"

He walks behind you, locking his arm around your waist. Suguru follows behind him, a scowl pressed onto his features. It's unlike him—the Suguru you know always has a light smile on his face, or an inquisitive expression. He rounds to your other side, standing uncomfortably close to you.

"Sukuna, Yorozu," Suguru greets, interlacing his fingers with yours. "Interesting to see you've left your own party early."

"I'm even more shocked to see you seem to know [Name]," Yorozu comments, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "Are you three…a thing?"

"She's our girlfriend, yes," Satoru announces, and you do your best to not grimace at the words. That certainly wasn't true, and it would also likely lead to your demise.

Both Sukuna and Yorozu take pause at that, and you can see Sukuna's Adam's apple bob as he swallows, perhaps annoyed that he'll have to leave and go tell Uraume his ex-fiancée is in a relationship with two people he apparently already knows.

"Wow. I didn't take you the type to move on so quickly," Yorozu says, and you begin to prepare yourself for the end of the secret you've kept so carefully. Perhaps it was better for her to reveal it against your will, you cope, so at least they'd find out relatively early on.

"Move on?" Satoru questions, furrowing his brows. Yorozu's smile turns impish, and you close your eyes, waiting for the bomb to drop.

"Don't you know?" she asks. "[Name] and Uraume were in a relationship for 11 years and broke up, like, half-a-year ago. She even ghost-wrote half the book Sukuna released tonight."

Satoru's grip on your waist tightens while Suguru lets go of your hand, and there's a slight pause. You look over at Suguru's face, which goes through about a thousand emotions in a second. Finally, it lands on a calm, unbothered expression, with one eyebrow raised.

"Oh, right. I forgot about that," Suguru hums. "She doesn't talk about them much. Guess she did move on."

The silence between you all is so thick that you feel like you're suffocating. While you sit there, you make some rudimentary connections in your mind; you suppose it wouldn't be wrong to assume that the Gojo in Satoru's name comes from the Gojo Conglomerate, which has lost more than a couple of court cases to the almighty defense lawyer Sukuna in the past. Maybe you were stupid to think you'd come across a beautiful, blue-eyed Gojo that wasn't a part of the Gojo family, but you thought the likelihood of that was slim to none either way.

"Right, well," Sukuna says after a moment, his voice grating on your ears. "We should leave. Good luck with her."

Sukuna practically drags Yorozu out of the building and, once they're gone, you immediately detach yourself from Satoru's grip. The silence continues between the three of you, though both of the boys have their eyes on you now. You stare at your shoes, wishing you could go back in time and refuse making a Hinge profile at all.

Suguru grabs your chin and raises it up, forcing you to look at him. His touch is soft and kind, which you weren't expecting given the exchange you'd just had. He doesn't look particularly angry, which you appreciate. Satoru, on the other hand, looks like he'd just withstood the betrayal of a lifetime, staring at you with those harrowing blue eyes.

You feel the tears from earlier returning, though you do your best to hold them in. Your life sucked so bad and you weren't even 30 yet.

Suguru sighs, dropping your chin and shaking his head. "I suppose we need to talk. Would you like to come eat some ice cream at our apartment?"

You don't really want to at all, but you nod, following the two outside to a fancy, black car parked on the curb. You sit in the back like a child, rapidly tapping your fingers on your knees and trying to keep your nausea at bay. The ride is fairly silent, save for Satoru and Suguru debriefing their time at Sukuna's book launch. You learn that your hunch was right: Sukuna had forced the Gojo family to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars in lawsuits, and had likely invited Satoru just to piss them off.

How had you managed to be so unlucky? Maybe you needed to visit a psychic to cleanse your bad energy, or something. Or maybe you'd been hexed. You didn't know.

After a short drive, the three of you pull into the parking garage below one of the fanciest apartment buildings in the city, which doesn't shock you one bit. "Welcome to Casa de Satoru," Suguru mumbles under his breath, a slightly-joking tone in his voice. They park in spot number 25, and, despite it all, Satoru opens the car door for you, grabbing your hand to help you out of the car.

You ride the elevator up to the 54th floor, which opens into a small hallway with two doors on opposite sides. Satoru and Suguru's apartment is, fittingly, 2254, and, when you walk in, you allow yourself a moment to ogle at the space. It's beautiful, filled with art and color and everything you would've hoped for in an apartment like this. Everything has a blue tint, which fits Satoru's overall vibe perfectly.

"Do you like it?" Suguru asks, patting your back as you look around. "It was way worse before I moved in. Took a while to make it this nice."

"It's beautiful in here. Fit for a couple like you two," you say, watching as Satoru drags his feet into the living room and collapses onto the couch. He loosens his tie and leans his head back on the top of the couch, letting out a loud sigh.

You quickly slip your shoes off and scuttle inside, taking a seat on the very edge. Suguru chooses to sit next to Satoru, and you swear you're having flashbacks to the many times Uraume sat you down and berated you for hours.

For a couple seconds it's quiet, and you decide they're probably expecting you to talk. "Listen, I was going to tell you at some point," you start, swallowing thickly. Every word that comes out of your mouth feels like glass ripping down your throat. "As you can probably imagine, despite the fact that it lasted so long, my relationship with Uraume wasn't the greatest, and it's still a tough subject for me."

Suguru nods slowly, and you assume he's going to speak. Instead, Satoru rapidly sits up, a look of deep hurt on his face. It makes you cringe.

"I don't know the half of it, clearly," he starts, voice strained and upset. "But it obviously sucks bad for me that I didn't know. I guess I didn't really bring up the whole family lineage thing, but, still, it sucks. It sucks really bad."

"I know, and I do feel sorry. But I can barely even talk about it with my friends, who knew me the entire time we were together," you defend, taking a long, shakey breath. "And I want to be able to talk about it more. I want to believe that it doesn't affect me anymore, but it does, you know? It just does."

Satoru is about to reply, but Suguru places a hand on his thigh, shutting him up like someone would shut up a dog. Satoru leans back instead, returning to staring at the ceiling.

"You don't need to tell us anything you don't want to," he insists, rubbing Satoru's thigh. "But it would be nice to have at least some context. Given our prior connections."

You bring your knees up to your chest, leaning your head on them. "They were my class president in high school. Asked me out first year, and we were together ever since. They controlled just about every facet of my life, from where I went to college to how often I hung out with my friends. I finally got the courage to break up with them in April. That's pretty much the gist of it."

You hear some rustling and then the feeling of the couch dipping next to you. Suguru's arms wrap around your curled-up figure, a welcome weight amongst your anxiety. There's a couple more seconds of nothing before you watch Satoru sit down next to you, leaning against your shoulder. The three of you sit there for a moment, unmoving.

"We're serious about you," Suguru says, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "If you'll have us."

"You promise?"

"We could show you," Satoru says.

"If you'd like that, of course," Suguru adds.

You look up from your curled-up position, making eye contact with Satoru. He looks primal, almost, staring at you like you're his prey. In a momentary lapse of judgment, you bask in the feeling of being wanted. Realistically, you know it's probably not smart to have sex with them when you're emotional and generally gross, but part of you feels like it'll be good for you to stick it to the man.

You could move on, you knew you could. You weren't having a tantrum, you were getting on with your life.

"Yeah…I would like that. I guess."

Satoru's mouth hungrily crashes into yours, pushing you back into Suguru's chest. You kiss him back with a fervor you haven't had in a long time, soaking up the want oozing off of him. You haven't felt this way in years.

Suguru dips his head down, pressing light kisses up and down your neck, slipping his hands under your shirt and massaging your hips. Satoru puts his hands over Suguru's, pushing his palms harder into your body.

Suguru adjusts so that you are leaning up against his chest, tapping Satoru on the back of his head. Satoru pulls away from you, giving Suguru a look of confusion that quickly melts into recognition.

Satoru leans back for a moment, if only to let Suguru tug your sweatshirt off, revealing nothing but the three-year-old bra you put on that morning. Satoru leans back down and leaves light kisses down your stomach, only detaching his hands from Suguru's to wrap his fingers around the edge of your waistband.

In a moment of panic, you squeak out a short "wait," causing Satoru to pause and look up at you. His eyes, the color of sapphires, bore into yours like sunlight, and you struggle to keep eye contact.

"Hm?" Suguru hums in your ear, dragging his nails up and down your sides. Goosebumps spread over your skin, causing a shiver to run across your body.

"Um, I haven't shaved in a while," you choke out, anxiety running through your body. "And I didn't shower today."

Satoru snorts, rolling his eyes. "I'm a grown man," he says. "Do you think I care about a little hair? Suguru hasn't shaved in years."

You feel your cheeks grow warm as Satoru waits for you to give him the go ahead. "Well, if you're sure," you approve, shrinking into Suguru's chest. Satoru wastes no time getting back to work, lifting your hips and taking off your sweatpants and underwear in one fluid motion. His breath is cold on your dripping pussy as he stares at your core, eyes dark. You prepare yourself for contact, but nothing ever comes.

Instead, Satoru looks up past you, presumably at Suguru, like he's asking for permission.

"Well, go on, Satoru," Suguru says calmly, as he removes your boobs from your bra, massaging them tenderly. "She's waiting so patiently for you."

Without further hesitation, Satoru dives in, warm tongue running up and down your soaking folds. His skillful tongue finds your clit with ease, licking it just right. Pleasure builds in you like it never has before—Uraume was never this good, not even with 10 years of practice.

Of course Satoru was perfect at this, as he was perfect at everything. Soft mewls escape your lips, no matter how hard you try to hold them in, and you writhe against Suguru's chest. You throw your head back over his shoulder, giving him easy access to your neck.

While Satoru continues to attack your clit, Suguru kneads at your breasts, nipping at your neck and shoulders. Every so often, Satoru moans against your clit, sending shockwaves up your body. It's too much—both of them are too much. You're putty in their hands, completely at their disposal for however long they'd like.

"Look how much she likes this, Satoru." Suguru sings, resting his chin on your shoulder. You look back down at Satoru, who looks like he's in heaven. "Tell him how much you like it, hm?"

"It's so good," you whine. Pressure begins to build up in your core, and you push yourself back into Suguru's chest. "I think—I'm about to—"

In one fell swoop, Suguru runs his hand through Satoru's hair and pulls him away from your cunt, dangling his head in front of you. You let out a cry of displeasure, your hips chasing Satoru's mouth.

"I don't think you've earned it yet, baby," Suguru says, pushing Satoru's head fully away from you. He looks upset, too, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks flushed pink.

"I think she's earned it," he quips, but he doesn't move, as if he won't do anything against Suguru's word. You nod eagerly, turning to look at Suguru. His cheeks are flushed, too, from just watching the two of you.

You can feel his cock pressing against your back through his dress pants, and, in retaliation, you jerk backwards, causing a hiss to escape Suguru's lips. "Resourceful, now, are we?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "Satoru, switch with me."

Suguru gets up from behind you, and you can barely comprehend what's happening as Satoru quickly meets him in the middle, smashing his lips against Suguru. They quickly begin undressing each other while you watch, ripping buttons off shirts and throwing ties across the room. Sitting awkwardly, you decide to just take your bra off, unclipping it and throwing it on top of Satoru's discarded tie.

Moments later, Satoru slots himself behind you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. He puts his chin on top of your head before leaning down to place a kiss on your head. "Y'know, [Name], your ex being my mortal enemy aside, I'm a pretty big fan of 'ya."

"Oh, great to know," you reply, watching Suguru kneel on the cushion in front of you. His cock is huge, girthy, and, for a moment, you'll wonder if it'll even fit inside you.

He runs the head through your slick folds. You moan at the contact, overstimulated by the whole experience. Your clit aches with the memory of Satoru's mouth, and all you want is for Suguru to make you cum.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Suguru asks, eyes serious. Immediately, embarrassment blooms in your chest, and all you can do is nod, hoping that will be enough.

"No can do, babe," Satoru says, his voice reverberating through his chest. "Gotta use your words, 'kay? It's what Suguru likes."

You gulp, taking a deep breath and swallowing your pride. "I want you to fuck me, Suguru, please."

With a satisfied smile, Suguru slowly pushes inside your cunt, cushiony walls enveloping him until he's all the way in to the base. He's big, and you knew that, but the feeling of fullness is overwhelming and every slight movement sends electricity running through you.

Suguru begins at a steady pace, reaching down to rub your clit in the process. Your back arches and pushes against Satoru; you try to pull away from the pleasure, but Satoru holds you there, making you take everything Suguru has to give you.

Soon, even Suguru can't control himself, rolling his hips against yours. Every thrust draws an unwilling sob from your lips, and you do anything to relieve the pressure building in you. You lift your arms and place them on the back of Satoru's head, squeezing your eyes shut.

You'd never had sex like this before, not once. You don't know what to do with yourself, with this, and all you can do is try to hold on for dear life.

"Don't kill her, Sugu. She looks like she's going to pass out."

A slow moan escapes Suguru's lips. "Shut the fuck up, Satoru."

It's not long before that familiar coil begins to build in your lower half. You begin to whine, "Suguru, I..I.." you barely stutter out as white hot pleasure rips through your body. Suguru works you through it, now lightly drawing circles on your swollen clit. Despite reaching your climax, he doesn't stop, snapping his hips back and forth.

You're barely lucid by the time Suguru reaches his high, pulling out with just enough time to cum all over your stomach. He lets his cock rest against your cunt, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips and Satoru's.

"Come on, man," Satoru whines, pulling away from Suguru's kiss. "You got it on my arms. Where the hell did your aim go?"

"You're acting like you haven't swallowed it before," Suguru laughs, turning his attention back to you. "You okay, honey?"

As you pant from the come down, Satoru whines from behind you, reaching down to palm himself. "Aw, Suguru tired you out, huh? Are you too sleepy to let me have a turn too?"

"Surely she's not that mean," Suguru insists, cupping your cheek with his hands. For the first time, you notice the deep purple in his eyes, boring down at you. "Maybe we move her to the bedroom, first."

Suguru's quick to sweep you up into his arms, leaving Satoru behind in the living room. You have no idea what to say as you lay limp in Suguru's arms, struggling to process the past fifteen minutes.

Suguru lays you down in their bed, plush and soft under your body. "Seriously, are you okay to keep going, babe? We can let you sleep and finish up out there."

Satoru juts out his bottom lip into a pout, waiting for you to respond. You chew on the inside of your cheek—you weren't sure if you'd survive anything else. Nevertheless, you nod. "Yeah, I'll—I'll be okay."

Satoru pounces on you immediately, settling between your thighs and lining himself up with your hole. "What a good girl," Suguru muses, laying himself down next to you. "Just a little bit longer, yeah?"

Whatever that meant. The night goes on with you being passed back and forth between the two, who are eager to have their way with you. By the time they're done, leading you into the bathroom to have a bath, your body aches in ten different places and your mind is foggy with pleasure.

You end up sat on Satoru's lap in the bathtub, soaking up epsom salts and the smell of the vanilla scented candle Suguru lit. They do all the work for you, rubbing soap into your skin and drying you off and putting you in some of their clothes, as they do the same for each other.

For a moment, jealousy rips through you. They started dating around the same time as you and Uraume had, and they were so secure in their relationship they could let someone else in. Meanwhile, you couldn't even have friends while you were with Uraume.

You try to force them out of your mind, to free yourself from their shackles, but you can't. Even when you're laid down in between the two of them, wrapped up in their embraces as they whisper to each other about their days, you can't stop thinking about them.

"Girlfriend?" Suguru whispers in your ear, placing a soft kiss on your earlobe. Feigning your sleep, all you can do is let out an agreeing hum, which seems to be enough for them.

Satoru gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek, and then on your nose, and then on your lips. "Pretty girl," he says, curling his arms around your hips. "Our pretty girl."

You squeeze your eyes shut and let sleep take you as quickly as it can.

—

Time passes, and you fall into their routine. At the same time, you pull back, unable to get your past out of your mind.

As far as you're aware, your boyfriends aren't necessarily aware of your regression, with them being so focused on each other all the time. They don't mind when you sleep on the edge of their bed, curled up into yourself rather than with them. They don't mind when you sit on the other side of the couch, away from their touch. They don't mind when you blow them off to go hang out with your friends.

At some point, you admit to yourself that what you're doing is wrong. You talk to your friends about it, who insist that this is all part of getting past Uraume and the trauma that came with them.

And then, you see Uraume at the grocery store.

They look worse for wear, as you've been told, their hair grown out almost to their shoulders and their face devoid of their usual makeup. They're staring at all the various types of freshly made jams, tapping their chin lightly as they think. They look as beautiful as always, and you begin to realize that the guilt you feel might actually just be you still being in love with them.

Stockholm syndrome, your friends had called it, an unhealthy attachment to someone who only ever hurt you. And yet, it takes everything in you to not walk up to them, to the point where you abandon your cart in the middle of the store and walk out.

Later that night, you're sitting on Satoru and Suguru's couch, flipping through a book that Suguru had recommended you. The two of them are deep into some anime Satoru loves, with Suguru's arm lazily dangled over Satoru's shoulder.

All night, Satoru has been staring at you instead of watching his show. Usually that's his sign that he wants to have sex, but he makes no moves on you, just watching.

In between episodes, he finally decides to speak.

"Will you come over here, [Name]?" he asks, catching both yours and Suguru's attention. "I feel so far away from you."

Both of them look expectantly at you, so you stand, ignoring the way your stomach churns at the thought. You miss the way Uraume would hold your hand while you watched Law & Order, running their fingers across your knuckles, not the way Satoru and Suguru held you like an object.

Nonetheless, you attempt to sit down next to Satoru, but he drags you into his lap before you can even reach the couch. His hands wrap around you and dig into your waist almost painfully, up until Suguru pinches his arm and he loosens up.

The next episode starts without another word, and you go back to reading your book.

—

The next day, you talk to Asahi, because she's the only one who would listen to you. You word vomit about how much you miss Uraume to the point where you start crying, sobbing about the way they loved you.

You tell her that Satoru and Suguru's love is too intense, that it feels more possessive than Uraume's ever did. That you feel like an object more than a partner.

Asahi listen and nods, holding your hands in hers as you speak. At some point, you let out a distraught wail and drop your head against the table, ending your tangent. Asahi thinks for a moment before speaking, trying to find the words to say.

"…This is what Uraume wants, probably," she finally says, and you look up at her, teary-eyed and miserable. "For you to miss them like this, to compare them to your next partners. But, to be honest, you look better now than you ever did with them."

Asahi does not tell you the words you want to hear, so you repeat the same process with your therapist. She gives you almost the same exact answer, so you go home and cry into your pillow.

You know they're right, objectively. You know that Uraume would bask in the glory of you crawling back to them, teary-eyed and apologetic, and they'd pretend like taking you back was some valiant act of love. They'd hold it over your head for months.

You ignore Suguru and Satoru's texts about having a movie night and you go to bed at 8:30, wanting to escape your feelings. You wake up the next morning to a frowny-face emoji from Satoru and a simple good night text from Suguru, so you force yourself to text them good morning and an apology for your early bedtime.

Shortly after that, while you're brushing your teeth, you get a call from Satoru.

"How's my beautiful girl doing?" he asks jubilantly, more excited than you'd ever heard him.

"Good," you say through your teeth brushing, your words barely comprehensible. "How are you?"

"Well rested and excited for the day. You work from home, right, babe?"

You spit your toothpaste out and time the mint taste from your mouth. "Yeah. Didn't you know that already? Why'd you ask?"

"I have an important all-day thing today and Suguru is taking his students on a field trip, so neither of us will be home until late," Satoru sing-songs. "Would ya mind comin' over and watching Maru?"

Maru, their cat, was the best part about dating them. She was a fat, old, fluffy white cat who loved to cuddle and watch TV, perfect to sit with all the time. The request was innocent enough to you, and you could spend more time pretending to be content with your relationship. You were hoping it would trick you into actually being content with it.

"Of course I'll come watch Miss Maru," you say in your baby voice, a smile blooming on your face. "I can be there in 30?"

"I'll come pick you up in 20."

Satoru, who is very famously late all the time, stays true to his word, picking you up 20 minutes later with a breakfast sandwich for you in hand. He yaps about how much he doesn't want to go to his meeting, how he'd rather stay at home with you and Maru, lazing about all day. You entertain his conversation as best you can, insisting he could do it another day, that you were never busy on weekends.

He raises an eyebrow at that, glancing over at you instead of paying attention to the road. You wait for him to speak, feeling a bit anxious when he laughs instead.

"You always have to hang out with your friends on the weekends," he utters, and you don't like the way he says 'friends.' "I feel like I never get to see you."

You frown. "We have a pretty normal schedule going on, no? I see you three or four times a week. We've only been dating for a few months."

Satoru lets out a long, breathy hum, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Suddenly, the car feels stuffy, and the lack of music makes you feel uncomfortable. He seems like he doesn't know what to say, eyes darting back and forth from you, the rearview mirror, and the road over and over again.

"I guess I'm just greedy," he says, and you know that spells the end of the conversation. Any prying you do will be shut down almost instantly, as if he's not at will to say what he wants. "Did you see the Emmys last night?"

Satoru drops you off outside of his apartment building and tells you to head up, handing you his keys with barely any hesitation. He demands a kiss on the cheek and then bids you adieu, leaving you to your own devices.

When you arrive at the apartment, Maru is sleeping on the couch spread-eagle. She looks as innocent as ever, and you rush over to sit with her. On the way, you notice something you've never seen before—a camera set up to watch the couch.

You try not to stare at it, preferring to stare at the kitty purring against your hands. You're sure it's just to watch Maru and nothing else, so you ignore it and the way it makes you feel sick.

—

Suguru gets home first, walking through the door at 4:30. He looks exhausted, running his hand through his hair as he drops his bookbag in the foyer and slips his shoes off.

"Welcome home," you say absentmindedly, keeping your focus on your computer screen. You've spent the whole day reading through submissions to the publishing house you work at, sifting through hundreds of terribly written romantasy novels and bad memoirs. "How's your day?"

Suguru sighs like the question is offensive to him. "High schoolers," he says, and that's about all you need to know. He comes over and stands behind you, snuggled up on the couch next to Maru. He leans over and wraps his arms around your shoulders, pressing kisses to your neck. "Maru didn't cause you any trouble?"

The feeling of his lips brushing against your neck makes you flinch. "She did nothing but lay there. She moved back and forth between right there and her tree," you say, opening your email and typing out yet another rejection letter. For a moment, Suguru lingers, watching you type out your classic better luck next time message, his breath hot on your neck.

"What do you want for dinner?" he finally asks, standing up. The question finally makes you break your focus on your laptop, and you turn to look at him.

"After I finish up my list for today I was planning on heading back to my place," you reply, and Suguru tilts his head as if to ask why. "Me and my friends watch the new Drag Race episode together every Thursday."

Suguru's lips dip into a frown. "Can't you just stay for dinner?" he asks, tilting his head. "Right after, you can leave."

You look back at your laptop, staring at the time. "Satoru will be back when?"

"Half an hour or so. He always leaves work a bit early."

Okay, so you'd easily be back by 7. "Sure, then. Sounds good to me. Make whatever you want."

Suguru disappears into a different area of the apartment and, a few minutes later, you hear the shower turn on. You finish looking through your last proposal at 5 on the dot, slamming your computer shut and pushing it off your lap. Maru is quick to climb into its spot, making herself at home in between your criss-crossed legs.

"Silly baby," you whisper, scratching behind her ears. The moment she gets comfortable, though, the front door swings open and scares her away. Satoru walks in holding a bag of takeout and donning a big smile, waving his other arm around excitedly.

"I'm home!" he sings, padding into the living room the moment he takes his shoes off. He's quick to discard the takeout bag onto the coffee table, turning and collapsing on top off you. You can't help but let out an oomph as Satoru lays his full weight on you, wrapping his arms around you excitedly.

You give him a couple of awkward pats on the back as he peppers your face with kisses, causing you to scrunch up your nose in discomfort. "Did'ya miss me, babe? You think about me all day?"

You draw in a sharp breath. "Of course. What else would I be doing?"

He pouts at your answer, shaking his head. "You're a terrible liar, y'know that?"

Satoru seems like he's going to say something else, but someone catches his eye behind you, and he's quick to get off of you and run towards him too. You turn around and watch Satoru slam into Suguru, giving him a big kiss on the lips. "Ahh, this is the best," he exclaims, turning back to you. "Both of my princesses waiting for me when I get home from work. Could things get any better than this?"

"If you showered and got the smell of office off of you," Suguru suggests, looking towards you. "Did you pick up dinner?"

"Obviously. All I want is to sit on the couch and eat food and watch a movie with you two, not watch you cut onions for an hour and a half," Satoru jests, slipping away from Suguru and skipping into his room.

Suguru comes over and picks your laptop up, slipping it into your bag before sitting down next to you and draping an arm around your shoulders. He's put on his usual baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants duo, so you decide to make yourself comfortable and lay on him. He's soft and comfortable, especially after a day of nonstop reading.

Suguru turns the TV on and begins flipping through streaming services, clicking through movie after movie. You watch quietly until Satoru comes back in, insisting he put on Titanic. Satoru sits on the other side of you, shoving himself into your side. Suguru puts on The Godfather instead, and you listen to the two of them bicker as usual.

Satoru passes out all the various food he got, and you settle for a box of plain noodles. At some point, Suguru gets you water, and you eat to your hearts content before snuggling back up to Suguru. "Are you playing favorites right now?" Satoru asks, and Suguru tells him to shut up in response. So, he settles for laying his head on your shoulder, mimicking the way you lay on Suguru.

It's a wonder you don't fall asleep faster. You're not even done eating for 20 minutes before you're passed out, and, when you wake up, Satoru and Suguru are watching Sex and the City, long done with the movie. You shoot up in a panic, feeling around for your phone.

"Good morning," Satoru chuckles, pulling you back into his chest. "Your friends said you can reschedule Drag Race. Seemed pretty thrilled to postpone, if you asked me."

You blink a couple of times, not loving the idea that they talked to your friends. Suguru is quick to hand you your phone—you'd slept until nine. You almost get angry, ask why Suguru didn't wake you up, but the slew of text messages prevents you from speaking. It's your friends, cheering for you and saying they hope you got laid.

You bite your tongue, relaxing into Satoru's chest as best you can. By ten, you're dismissing yourself into their room, rummaging through their drawers to find your things. You were suddenly glad they asked you to bring some stuff over after the first time you spent the night, though they "loved seeing you in their clothes." You're in bed by eleven—as you are every night—curled up on Satoru's side of the bed.

You don't know what time it is when they come in. They move about the room quietly, whispering to each other loud enough that they wake you up. You keep your eyes shut, hoping they'll quiet down once they realize that you're asleep asleep.

"The guy is absolutely unreasonable. I guess his daughter lives in the building, so he doesn't want to sell it," Satoru whispers, rolling his eyes. "I told Ichiji to dig something up on him, we'll see if he can even manage that. If not, I'll ask Megumi."

"Don't put too much of your energy into it," Suguru replies, and you can feel him sit on the other side of the bed. "There's other ways we can deal with it. We just need to be patient."

"I don't want to be patient," Satoru replies. You feel his hands curl under you as he moves you over a bit, like you're a ragdoll in his bed. "I like having a pretty girl in my bed."

—

You wake up the next morning, earlier than Suguru and Satoru as per usual, and Tokyo is covered in a thick blanket of snow. You spend at least five minutes staring out the kitchen window, distraught at the sight.

Your phone confirms your worst fears—insane train delays and cancellations, road closures, everything you don't to hear. At the same time, this event is sort of freeing, because it confirms to you that you probably need to break things off with Satoru and Suguru. You're terrified of being trapped here, forced to spend the whole day with their obnoxious doting.

The idea makes you laugh at yourself. You would spend hours sulking about Uraume's scarce attention, but, apparently, that was perfect for you. Or, maybe you'd grown too used to it. Whatever it may be, you probably just needed to spend the better part of the next two years single.

Suguru comes out shortly after your revelation, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. You prepare for him to come to you, rightfully so as he his arms around your middle and rests his head on your chin. "School's cancelled," he says, and the news has you hoping he'll still spend the day grading.

Satoru whines the whole morning about how he still has to go to work and how the corporate world is his worst nightmare. Suguru makes a comment about how that was his fault, and all he can do is march out the door while mumbling about how his life sucks.

The day is, surprisingly, pretty okay, despite the fact that the snow just won't stop coming down. Suguru teaches you how to play chess and watches you play Zelda on Satoru's Switch, content to just be in the same space as you. At some point during the day, Satoru talks to you through the camera on the mantle, whining about how jealous he was of the two of you.

You make peace with the fact that you'll probably spend another night there, and, when the snow stops around 4, you hope that the city can fix things up in time for you to go home early the next day. Then, you'll start planning your break-up speech, which will most likely be you blubbering about how you're just not ready for another relationship yet and how it's not fair to them that you still think about Uraume all the time.

Then, Satoru gets home and immediately starts undressing you, and you spend the evening in bed, being used between the two of them like a sex toy. It doesn't make you feel good mentally, though, physically, you might as well have been in heaven. Satoru babbles about how much he loves you, how good you make him feel, how perfect you fit into his and Suguru's relationship, while Suguru watches you with that foggy glint in his eyes, like his mind is elsewhere.

You go to bed and are gone before they wake up.

—

The next few days are excruciating. Satoru gets upset with you for leaving before saying goodbye, insisting it was dangerous for you to take the train when it was still so gross outside. You smooth it over as best you can, insisting that you just wanted to get home and use up the rest of your groceries before they went bad. You'd spent a lot of money on your breakfast bread (and Satoru tells you that he could buy ten more loaves for you next time).

You sit down with your friends, telling them your reasoning behind your choices and insisting you aren't going to go back to Uraume. You tell them you aren't really a person, just someone's other, and you don't like that. They have varying reactions—Izumi's upset, Shiori's indifferent, and Asahi is supportive—but, at the end of the night, they all understand.

After a few more hectic days at work, you go over to Satoru and Suguru's house for dinner. They clearly know something is up, as Suguru is dead silent while he makes chicken and Satoru is bent over his computer, agonizing about some work thing driving him crazy.

Dinner is delicious, and eating it makes you feel guilty. So, about halfway through, you clear your throat, looking up from your plate.

Satoru is already staring at you, and Suguru doesn't bother to pay attention to you, focusing on his food. "Listen, I—we need to talk," you start, tripping over your words.

"About what?" Satoru asks, and you don't like the desperate look in his eyes. "Did we do something wrong?"

"No, um, I just…don't think I'm ready for another relationship yet," you say, swallowing hard. "I mean, I was with Uraume for all of my young adult years, and I don't really feel like my own person yet. And I don't think it's fair to you guys to still be so hung up on my ex when you're giving me your all."

Suguru puts his silverware down neatly, finally looking up at you. Their attention is even more than usual right now, filling your lungs and sinking into your skin. Neither of them speak, so you're forced to keep rambling.

"You're both so sweet, and the best thing I could've asked for, but I'm clearly not ready enough. I just need more time. Maybe after I sort myself out, we can try again, or something. But, for now, I think it's best we break up."

There's barely a reaction to your words. Maybe you thought they liked you more than they actually do, from the way Satoru cracks a smile and Suguru just stares. You wait, mentally begging for one of them to say something.

And, of course, Suguru's the one to speak.

"I think that's sweet, dear."

You grimace. "What?"

"I think it's sweet that you think you have a choice," Suguru repeats, and the words almost make your jaw drop. Panic flares through your body, and all you can think is of course you dated a couple of psychos right after a sociopath. "But, if I recall, we told you we were in this for the long run, not a hook-up situation."

"Yes, obviously I remember," you say, curling your hands into fists on your lap. "But that wasn't a legally binding contract, or something. I'm a person, I have free will, and I'm breaking up with you right now."

"No, you're not," Satoru says, shaking his head. "We get a little possessive, you know? You can't just walk out on us like that without even trying to work on it."

Suguru nods in agreement, leaning his head on his hands. You can't find the words to say, failing to comprehend the situation you're in. "Okay, so you still think about Uraume. Whatever. After a while, once we've got you comfortable here, they'll barely be an after thought," Satoru continues, and his voice sounds….off. "You'll be too focused on loving us."

You stand abruptly from your chair, almost knocking it over in the process. "I think I need to go home," you state, stepping away from the table. Both of them just watch you, with Suguru's arrogant expression sending waves of anxiety through your body. "We can revisit this tomorrow, maybe, after you've both thought about it some more. We can sort it out."

You trip over yourself trying to get to the foyer, slipping on your tennis shoes instead of bending down to untie and retie them, like you usually do. You practically rip your bag off the usual hook, grabbing the doorknob and turning it as hard as you can.

You pause. You turn the doorknob some more, and you pause again. You look up at the door and come face to face with a lock you've never noticed before, the keyhole staring right back at you. You hear footsteps behind you, so you spin around, pressing your back against the door.

"Did you lock me in here?" you shriek, holding your bag to your chest. Suguru stands there with his arms crossed, looking like this is somehow inconveniencing him.

"We can revisit your privileges in a little bit. But, for now, it's best we spend some time sorting all this out," Suguru replies like he's your parent, holding his arm out to you sternly. "Give me the bag and take your shoes off, dear. We've set up a room for you that you can use to calm down and gather your bearings."

"What the fuck are you saying to me right now?" A million thoughts race through your head as you speak, and you begin rummaging through your bag for your phone. Sighing, like he expected you to do this, Suguru pulls it out of his pocket, holding it up. "Give that back, Suguru. You're don't own me, you can't do this. You need to let me leave."

"We don't need to let you do anything," comes Satoru's voice as he rounds the corner, leaning back on the couch behind him. "If you had just been good, you wouldn't be in this situation right now—this is your fault. Not ours."

"My fault? My fault?"

"Don't make this difficult, please," Suguru says, and, suddenly, they look scarier than they ever have before. Scarier than Uraume ever did before. You imagine their face right now, laughing at you as you fail worse than you ever have before. You can hear their voice saying you should've never left, and you wish they were here to drag you out of this situation like they always used to. "Go spend some time in your room, calm down a bit. I'll put your dinner in the fridge so you can finish it later."

You end at a standstill. The door is locked behind you, they stand like a wall in front of you. You can't think of anything, a solution for you to get yourself out of this. So, you just stand there, unmoving.

After a few moments, Suguru sighs, shaking his head. "Okay, okay. I guess we really can't be nice. We tried. Go ahead, Satoru."

Satoru, who is bigger and taller than the both of you, takes a step forward, and you open your mouth to scream. He's faster than you, though, and picks you up before you can, throwing you over his shoulder.

You punch and claw at his back, squirming to try and get him to drop you. Satoru's hold on you is far to strong for you to even make a dent on him, but you refuse to stop trying, to give up so easily. Suguru watches as he follows behind, looking almost disappointed in you.

shuffling over to him bent over, you clutch the wrench with two hands and raise it like a baseball bat. the air whistled as you whipped the tool down, landing a solid hit on aleks' head.

"fuck!" he shouted as his face was bashed into the engine from the blow.

uncaring, you take another swing, cracking him on the skull again. blood poured from both his head and nose. survival instincts hit aleks like a freight train. despite the pounding in his brain and the tears in his eyes, he shot upwards and avoid your next hit.

there was three of you as he grabbed your wrist and barked, "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"let go," you sobbed, trying to wrench your arms out of his grip. "let me go!"

aleks ripped the tool from your hands and threw it across the room. it hit something metal and clattered to the ground.

"you good?" sasha called from inside of the house, hearing the commotion.

you kept tugging on aleks hold, cried getting more frantic, "let go! let go! let go!" your voice escalating until it turned into screeching, you were using all your strength to get away from him.

"y/n?" aleks stared in fear.

sasha came running and paused at the frame. aleks looked up at him in fear as you finally collapsed to the floor, aleks still gripping you. you sobbed and with your free hand, punched against his thigh. aleks flinched and turn back towards you. "stop that."

ignoring him, you went from his wrist and dug your nails in and scratch downwards so hard skin caught under your nails. aleks hissed and let go of you.

"what the fuck happened?" sasha asked, spying the blood caking aleks face and some blood staining his neck.

"s-she hit me."

aleks stumbled back, reaching for the back of his head.

"whoa, man!" sasha shouted and raced towards aleks. he used his car as a clutch as he got more woozy.

sasha grabbed a towel and handed it to aleks. he nodded in thanks and put pressure on the wound. you hit like a motherfucker.

finally free, you had scrambled back towards aleks tool box to grab something else. you need to make every second count. clutching onto the screwdriver, you were ready to finish what you started, sasha be damned.

"fucking watch her, dude!" aleks barked.

sasha turned around just in time. twisting your wrist, you screamed as you were forced to let go of the screwdriver. not knowing what else to do, sasha tackled you to floor. he ignored how you screamed in agony.

"i hate you! i fucking hate you! why won't you just fucking die!"

"what the fuck is going on?" sil bursted in, emil in tow.

similar to sasha, they were stupefied at the entryway. you were more beast than girl, the screaming would not cease. you struggled under sasha, face wet with tears and sweat.

their eyes went to aleks still clutching onto his wound.

sil repeated herself, more breathless, "what is going on?"

sasha swallowed, on the verge of tears himself, "she tried to kill aleks."

"why?" emil broke his silence. something shifted in himself, you on the floor, you had changed. they changed you to the point of violence. regret was an aftertaste on his tongue.

"fuck you, that's why!" you shrilled in response. "i hope this fucking house burns with all of you inside it."

"y/n," aleks begged, "just stop it."

with no other choice, they put you inside your room, limbs bound and mouth gagged. emil had cleaned and stitched aleks wounds. there was no way to explain to a doctor what happened. sil paced the room. sasha sat at the bottom of the stairs, flinched every time you let out another muffled screech.

sil bit at her nails, a habit she had broken in adulthood.

"im gonna throw up."

"please don't," sasha said, looking pretty green himself.

"what do we do?"

"nothing," emil replied, wiping the blood from aleks' face, voice ever monotone.

sil scoffed, "she's acting like a fucking psycho and we do nothing? so we just let her exhaust herself and then we pretend like she didn't fucking try to kill aleks, thanks for the advice, asshole."

aleks grabbed the towel from emil and shooed him away. "what could we even do? she... she looked so different."

the air went still. aleks stared off in the distance with pinched brows and pursed lips.

"d-did," he paused, "did i break her..."

[You]: are you fucking serious right now? i had to find out from HER?

[My Husband 🥰]: what are you talking about?

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

[My Husband 🥰]: babe pick up the phone

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

[My Husband 🥰]: what the fuck are you even talking about? find out WHAT???

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

[My Husband 🥰]: BABE

[My Husband 🥰]: PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

Missed call from My Husband 🥰

The only reason why the phone calls stopped was because you blocked him, but he would’ve kept calling until his phone died. It’s happened before.

Soon you get a Zelle notification.

R. Sukuna has sent you $200.00.

Memo: unblock me.

You sent R. Sukuna $20.00.

Memo: you can keep your fucking money

R. Sukuna has sent you $20.00.

Memo: you can’t just tell me to keep my money but then pocket more than half of it. and what the fuck am i gonna do with 20 dollars??

You sent R. Sukuna $2.00.

Memo: and now you have 2, see what happens when you don’t appreciate what you have?

R. Sukuna has sent you $2.00.

Memo: what the fuck does that even mean?? can you just unblock me already?

You sent R. Sukuna $0.50.

Memo: no

R. Sukuna has sent you $100.00.

Memo: JESUS FUCKJNGCHRIST UNBLOCK ME

You sent R. Sukuna $0.01.

Memo: NO

You sent R. Sukuna $0.01.

Memo: we’re out of sugar and creamer btw don’t forget to grab some on your way home

R. Sukuna has sent you $100.00.

Memo: wait so im not in trouble?

You sent R. Sukuna $0.01.

Memo: why would you be in trouble?