okaywitheverything

[okaywitheverything]

you write so welllll! I’m in love with this fic! the way I’m on the edge of the seat for Gojo to meet Haruto is unhinged😭😭😭 amazing chapter author🫨

satoru gojo x reader // like ghosts in the snow // chapter three

Words: 4.7k ♥ the one where u kiss a lil bit ♥ no TWs, just cute Satoru n some light angst/comfort action Previous chapter :33

╰┈➤This is a Flashback Chapter, but i promise i kept it relevant! no world building or unnecessary characters, just good old fashioned bonding :))

✎ reminder that reader has been given the default name 'shiori myoji'!. you have a clairvoyance technique and a two-year old gojo >;3 enjoy!!

...

Tokyo, Japan / January 2015 (see timeline here)

You saw more of Satoru after the ceremony. He’d find you when you were visiting campus grounds, sometimes bump into you on your way into meetings with the Jujutsu council. It made you a little nervous, knowing that he likely wasn’t finding you by accident, but it wasn’t until he’d somehow gotten ahold of your phone number that you started getting really annoyed.

“You’d better be dying,” you rasped, your voice heavy with sleep. It was nearly midnight, and Satoru had called you three times. You only picked up on the third because you were certain it was an emergency— which it was not. 

“Nah,” he replied coolly. “Just lonely. Whatcha doin’?”

“Gojo, it’s nearly midnight. I’m sleeping.” 

“It’s Satoru off-the-clock, babe,” you could practically hear the smirk in his voice, cringing as you listened to him go on. “Besides, it’s Friday night. Why are you going to bed at old man hours?”

“I have a migraine,” you grumbled. “Don’t you know about those?”

“Of course, I know about migraines,” he replied, his tone shifting slightly as if offended. “I just don’t let them stop me from living my life.”

You groaned, rubbing your temple. “Living your life? You’re calling me at midnight to bother me. How’s that for living?”

“Aw, come on, Shi-chan,” he teased, and you could almost see him leaning back with that stupid grin on his face. “You can’t tell me you don’t secretly look forward to my calls.”

“Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he corrected smoothly.

“Satoru,” you seethed through gritted teeth, “if you don’t give me a real reason for why you’re calling, I’m hanging up.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, just long enough for you to wonder if he took you seriously, but then he exhaled dramatically.

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “You caught me. I wanted to see if you’d come out for food.”

You stared at the ceiling, dumbfounded. “You called me three times in the middle of the night for food?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’ve barely eaten today! Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Your silence must have given you away because he chuckled softly. “You’re predictable, Shi-chan. Always working yourself to death, skipping meals like they’re optional. I’m just doing my civic duty as a fellow sorcerer to keep you alive.”

You rolled your eyes, even though you knew he couldn’t see the gesture. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably thoughtful,” he corrected. “So? What do you say? Midnight ramen? My treat.”

“It had better be,” you shot back. “You’re loaded.”

“Okay, fine,” he replied casually. “I’ll throw in dessert. Come on, it’ll help with the headache. Trust me.”

You sighed, debating whether you had the energy to argue. Honestly, the thought of food was tempting, especially since you had skipped dinner.

“Fine,” you relented, tossing your blanket aside. “But only if you promise not to talk the entire time.”

“No can do,” he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “But I’ll promise to be entertaining.”

“Debatable,” you muttered.

Thirty minutes later, you found yourself sitting across from Satoru in a nearly empty ramen shop, wondering how you had allowed yourself to be dragged out of bed for this.

“So,” he grinned at you, twirling his chopsticks expertly. “How’s the migraine?”

You shot him a flat look. “Still there. You’re not helping.”

He laughed, leaning forward on his elbows. “You’ll thank me later when you’re full of delicious ramen and no longer grumpy.”

You huffed but took a sip of broth anyway, the warmth soothing your headache more than you wanted to admit. “This doesn’t mean I’m going to make a habit of this, you know.”

“Of course not,” he asserted, though the mischievous glint in his eyes told you he didn’t believe you. “But you’ll answer my calls next time, right?”

“Only if you’re dying,” you replied, slurping your noodles.

He smirked. “Guess I’ll have to get creative.”

You groaned, but deep down, you knew that you would answer.

And so it began. Your evening outings with Satoru became more frequent, to the point that he’d started to skip the courtesy call. Satoru would knock, and you’d already be dressed, ready to partake in whatever late-night cravings he had in mind. You told yourself it was just for the free meal, a convenient distraction, but that excuse felt thinner every time you walked out the door with him.

You found yourself lingering on the way he leaned back in his seat, one arm slung casually over the backrest as he told an outrageous story about his students. Or the way his face lit up whenever he convinced you to try something new, his grin infectious enough to make you laugh even when you weren’t planning to.

You liked him. Just a little. Enough that you didn’t mind his teasing quite so much anymore, or the way he always made it a point to walk you back home, even when you insisted that you didn’t need an escort.

One evening, Satoru had something different in mind when he showed up unannounced. His bandages were pushed up into his hair, leaving his eyes bare, and he looked… excited. More so than usual.

“What is it?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Put your shoes on, Shi-chan,” he instructed, waving a hand like he was summoning you. “We’re going out.”

You groaned, crossing your arms. “What are you dragging me into now?”

“Dessert,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

“Dessert?”

“Not just any dessert,” he clarified, his grin widening. “The best parfaits in the city. Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Is this just an excuse to feed your sugar addiction?”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug. “But I’m not going alone, so get moving.”

With a sigh, you grabbed your coat and followed him out the door, trying to ignore the way your stomach turned when he held the door open for you, smiling expectantly.

The parfait shop was small and tucked away into a quiet alley, lit by warm, glowing lanterns. The moment you stepped inside, the air was filled with the sweet aroma of fresh fruit, whipped cream, and caramel. You couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped you.

Satoru led the way to a booth in the corner, practically bouncing in his seat as he opened the menu. “Look at this,” he enthused, pointing to an elaborate parfait topped with layers of strawberries, matcha ice cream, and tiny macarons. “This one’s calling out to me.”

“That’s enough sugar for three of you,” you muttered, scanning the menu.

“What are you getting?” he asked, leaning over the table. “Ooh, you should try the mango one. Or the chocolate banana. Or the—”

“I can read, Satoru,” you said, cutting him off with a small, reluctant smile. “And I can decide for myself.”

When the parfaits arrived, they were too pretty to eat— almost. Satoru wasted no time digging into his strawberry concoction, humming in satisfaction after the first bite.

“This is the one,” he outright moaned, pointing his spoon at you. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny how good the sweetness in front of you looked. You took a tentative bite of the chocolate banana parfait, and the immediate burst of flavor was enough to make you pause.

“See?” Satoru smirked as he watched your reaction. “Told you.”

On the walk back to your apartment, Satoru insisted on a detour to a nearby taiyaki stand—because, as he so eloquently put it, his daily sugar quota hadn’t been met, parfait notwithstanding. He carried the box of warm, fish-shaped pastries under his arm as you strolled through the quiet streets of suburban Tokyo. His voice filled the air, rambling about something inconsequential, his excitement infectious in the way that only Satoru Gojo could manage.

The gears in your mind turned over as you listened. This felt so familiar, like something you’d watched from a distance long ago. Him, lighting up at the simplest joys. The image of Satoru as a budding adult, walking alongside Suguru Geto, slipped into your mind unbidden. You’d seen him like this before—his shoulders relaxed, his grin easy, his words tumbling out with the same unguarded enthusiasm. Back then, it had been Suguru who tempered his boundless energy, who grounded him just enough to remind him that he was human.

The thought sent an ache through your chest. This wasn’t just nostalgia; it was Satoru searching for something, someone, to make him feel anchored again. Someone to remind him that he wasn’t untouchable. That he wasn’t just the Six Eyes, the strongest sorcerer, but Satoru—flawed, messy, and still yearning for the companionship that had once made him whole. But could that really be you?

And did you want it to be?

When you looked up again, your building was quickly approaching.

“Thanks for coming out,” he said casually, glancing over at you.

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” you replied, but your tone lacked its usual bite.

He smirked. “You say that, but I think you’ve been enjoying our little outings.”

You didn’t respond right away, your eyes focused on the ground again. The truth was, he wasn’t really wrong. You were starting to look forward to these moments—more than you wanted to admit.

“Maybe,” you said softly, and your honesty caught even you by surprise.

Satoru’s smirk faltered for a split second, replaced by something warmer. “I knew it,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

When you reached your door, he handed you the box of taiyaki. “Here,” he said. “In case you get hungry later.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, taking the box from him. He opened his mouth, and you just knew he was going to say goodbye, so you beat him to it.

“Satoru,” you declared suddenly, a sour feeling gnawing at you from inside. There was something… something you needed to ask. Something you needed clarity on.

He closed his mouth for once, his gaze meeting yours. His eyes were uncovered. Expectant. Like he was waiting on something, too.

“What are we doing?” You spit out, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “I’m not… do you want something from me?”

“What do you mean, Shi-chan?” He asked, his words light but careful. His eyes were scrutinizing. “I wanted dessert. You came with me. Easy enough, right?”

Not convinced, you shook your head. You stepped closer to him, the sour feeling inside you intensifying. “No, it’s not just that. It’s the phone calls, the showing up unannounced, the--,” you gestured around vaguely with your hand. “This. All of this. What is it?”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. For once, he didn’t seem to have a quip ready. His silence was as unnerving as it was unexpected, but you pressed on.

“I’m not dumb, Satoru,” You continued. “You don’t just... call people for no reason. You don’t go out of your way--,” you shook the taiyaki box for emphasis, “--for just anyone. So, what is it? Why me?”

Satoru’s jaw ticked almost imperceptibly. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air between you. Satoru ran a hand through is hair, letting out a breath that sounded far too serious for someone like him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. His voice was uncharacteristically soft. “I think I just... like being around you. Reminds me of simpler times.”

Those words stuck out to you. Simpler times. Because nothing was ever simple with Satoru Gojo.

And yet, as much as you wanted to laugh, to not believe him, you couldn’t. Your breath hitched, and you didn’t respond. Your thoughts flashed back to high school, seeing him and Suguru slinking around campus late at night. How sometimes they’d pass by your dorms, voices hushed but still loud enough to wake you from sleep. Laughing, like they’d just come back from a party and not a first-grade mission.

“I guess that’s allowed,” you finally muttered after a beat, averting your gaze to the ground. You were blushing fiercely, embarrassed with the assumptions you’d made about an old friend. Maybe he really is just... lonely.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked up to see him a few paces closer than he was before. His lazy grin was back, but there was still sincerity written across his features. “Goodnight, Shi-chan. I’ll see you around?”

“Night, Satoru,” You replied with a nod, hating the disappointment you felt when he withdrew. You watched him turn and walk away.

When the door closed behind him, you stood in place. Staring at the polished wood. Chewing your bottom lip.

“What the fuck?” you breathed, wondering if this was becoming something dangerous. For both of you.

You saw less of your six-eyed friend after that conversation. In a cruel twist of fate, the steady rhythm of a budding friendship started to falter as work piled up, missions became more frequent, life happened. The late-night knocks at your door stopped, his texts became sporadic, and a familiar hollowness began to take the place of Satoru’s easygoing, persistent presence.

You told yourself that it didn’t matter, that it was for the best. Sorcerers shouldn’t have distractions, right? Especially ones of your respective statures. Alas, it was hard to ignore the ache of his absence… like a thread constantly pulling at the edges of your thoughts. As much as you wanted to banish it from your mind, it always felt like… something was missing. Something with white hair and blue eyes.

Council meetings kept you busy, the higher ups’ usage of your technique was at an all-time high. Your headaches were constant, the need for a break starting to get desperate. One afternoon after one such meeting, you were merely passing through the Tokyo campus when you started hearing things.

The rumors started small, whispered between both staff and students. Murmured in passing, not even bothering to lower their voices when you approached—because why would they? No one knew about your friendship with Gojo, and the way it fizzled out into nothing. All the same, your chest ached to hear that he wasn’t just busy with work, he was… dating someone. Courting with the intention to marry, even, according to several sources on campus.

Not that you had asked them directly.

You knew that the clan was always pushing him to marry, to find a powerful sorceress from a prestigious line of her own, to produce an heir. The idea of him bending to their will—especially when it came to something as archaic as choosing a wife—was laughable. At first.

Eventually, the whispers changed.

You heard about a woman that he was seeing. A young, beautiful sorceress who had been sighted spending time with him. Casual strolls in the city, dinners at fancy restaurants—all of the things you’d expect of a young clan-head seeking out a potential spouse. You heard that she was from a respected lineage, someone that the greater Gojo clan approved of. Someone they saw as worthy of his name.

You heard that she kind of looked like you.

And again, you told yourself that it didn’t matter. You didn’t care.

But it wouldn’t hurt so bad if that were the truth, would it?

Their words lingered in your mind long after you overheard them.

The image of a woman who looked a little too much like you, walking beside him, laughing at his jokes. A part of you wondered if it was intentional, or if it was some cruel trick of the universe.

So when you heard the knock on your door one unassuming evening, your stomach twisted into a knot. You weren’t expecting anyone, but somehow you already knew by the way goosebumps sprouted against your flesh, and the beating of your heart sped up.

And when you opened the door, there he was.

Satoru Gojo stood on your doorstep, a lopsided grin on his face, his white hair falling messily over his forehead. He leaned casually against the doorframe, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

You felt a little naked before him, standing there in your cozy pajama top and bottoms, clearly not expecting visitors. Satoru’s eyes raked over your body shamelessly, but he didn’t comment on your attire. Thankfully.

“Hey,” he said easily, as if he’d just seen you yesterday. “Thought I’d stop by. You know, see if you missed me.”

Your chest tightened, and you fought to keep your voice steady. “What are you doing here?”

He blinked, tilting his head like your question didn’t make sense. “What? I can’t visit anymore?” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his hands shoved casually into his pockets. “Besides, you’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you? What’s up with that?”

You stared blankly at him, stunned by the accusation. “Avoiding you?”

“Yeah.” He gave you a pointed look, still grinning. “No texts, no calls. You ghosted me, Shi-chan. Should I be hurt?”

Your frustration boiled over. How could he stand there, acting so normal, like he hadn’t done anything wrong? Like he didn’t even realize—

“I thought you were avoiding me,” you snapped, crossing your arms.

That made him pause, his grin faltering for just a second. “Huh? Why would I do that?”

You shook your head, your emotions threatening to spill over. “Forget it.”

“No, no, wait.” He frowned now, stepping closer. “Seriously, what’s going on? Did I miss something?”

You swallowed hard, refusing to meet his gaze. “I heard things, Satoru.”

He raised an eyebrow, confused. “Things?”

“About you.” Your voice cracked despite your best effort to keep it steady. You turned your face away from them as you added, “And her.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his confusion plain on his face. Then, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh, that?” he said, still chuckling. “That’s what this is about?”

Your stomach dropped at how easily he dismissed it. “What do you mean, ‘that?’”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You seriously thought I was avoiding you because of her? Come on, Shi-chan. Don’t be ridiculous.”

You clenched your fists at your sides. “Maybe it’s not ridiculous to me.”

“Shi-chan,” he insisted, his tone laced with exasperation. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s not even someone I’d consider dating.”

“Then what—”

“She’s a pawn,” he interrupted in a serious voice. “A face to keep the clan off my back. They’ve been hounding me about marriage again, and she’s just… convenient.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “Convenient,” you repeated, your voice hollow.

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly, taking another step closer. “She knows the deal. And trust me, she is being well compensated for her time.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me that?” you asked, your frustration bubbling over.

“Because I didn’t think it mattered,” he replied with a frown. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t care,” you scowled, though the ache in your chest betrayed you. “But you can’t just show up here like this, expecting me to—”

“Clearly you do,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so pissed off right now.”

You snapped your gaze upwards, glaring at him. “I’m not pissed off!”

“Oh, you definitely are,” he mused, a hint of his usual teasing slipping through.

“Satoru,” you hissed, your fists clenched at your sides. “Do you know how humiliating it is to hear something like that secondhand? To have people whispering about you and some perfect sorceress, and I—”

You stopped yourself, biting your tongue before you could say too much.

“And you what?” he questioned, his voice quieter now and his expression unreadable. “Go on, Shi-chan. Say it.”

You shook your head, looking away. “Forget it.”

“Not a chance,” he declared, inching into your space, his voice dropping even lower. “You’ve got something to say? Say it.”

Your chest heaved, the words clawing at your throat, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say them. Instead, you looked up at him, your anger dissolving into something more vulnerable, rawer.

“Why are you here, Satoru?” you asked finally, barely above a whisper

His gaze softened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m here because I wanted to see you,” he said simply. “And I’m not dating anyone. If I was, you’d be the first to know.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his words. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, almost hesitant smile, “that if there’s anyone I’d want to spend time with, it’s you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the weight of his words hung heavy in the air.

Satoru shifted, scratching the back of his neck. “So, are you going to invite me in, or do I have to keep defending my non-existent girlfriend on your doorstep?”

But your mind was stuck on those words. If there’s anyone I’d want to spend time with, it’s you.

“Satoru,” you said, wishing you could wash the taste of his name out of your mouth. “You can’t say things like that to a woman. It’s… dangerous.”

Satoru blinked at you, clearly caught off guard by your response. Then, in true Gojo fashion, he tilted his head and smirked, his expression equal parts teasing and curious.

“Dangerous?” he repeated, his tone lighter now but edged with something more serious. “Why’s that?”

You swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. “Because,” you muttered, your voice just above a whisper, “they might start thinking you mean it.”

“And what if I do?”

Your head snapped up, your eyes meeting his, wide with disbelief. “You’re not serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he shot back. His gaze was steady and searching.

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head as you stepped back. “Because you’re Satoru Gojo. You flirt with everyone. You don’t mean half the things you say.”

He frowned, his hands sliding into his pockets as he tilted his head again. “You really think that?”

You crossed your arms, trying to hold onto the wall you were so desperately trying to keep between you. “It’s not like you’ve ever given me a reason to think otherwise.”

He sighed, the weight of your words settling between you like a stone.

“Why does it bother you?” He said quietly, a pointed look on his face. “Whether I’m dating someone or not?”

You froze, the question throwing you off guard.

 “I… It doesn’t,” you stammered, your heart racing. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate for you to—”

“To what?” he pressed, stepping closer. “Spend time with you? Talk to you? Care about you?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you took a step back, your legs hitting the edge of the couch. “Satoru, don’t.” You said, your voice low. Quiet. Nervous.

“Don’t what?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you. “Don’t ask why you’ve been avoiding me? Don’t ask why it bothers you so much that someone said I might be with someone else?”

“I’m not avoiding you." Your voice was weak, your hands gripping the back of the couch for support.

He laughed then, but it was humorless, sharp. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying!” you snapped, your frustration bubbling over. “I just—”

“Just what?” he interrupted. “Just don’t care? Just don’t want to admit that maybe you feel something for me?”

Your cheeks burned, your chest heaving as you struggled to find the words to refute him.

“That’s what I thought,” he retorted, his voice almost gentle now.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, looking away.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice softening further. “But I’m not wrong.”

You felt his presence closer now, his warmth radiating in the small space between you. When you finally looked up, his blue eyes were piercing, unguarded in a way you’d rarely seen. His face had changed since high school. Still full of boyish charm, but… older now. Handsome. Matured. Not the teenage heartthrob of the Gojo clan that girls were clabbering over each other to flirt with.

And now, his attention was all on you.

“Satoru,” you said, your voice trembling. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch was featherlight, his fingers lingering for just a moment too long.

You swallowed hard, your heart thundering in your chest as his gaze dropped to your lips. “This is a bad idea,” you whispered, though your words lacked conviction.

“Probably,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, rueful smile. “But I’m full of bad ideas.”

And then he kissed you.

It was tentative at first, as though he was giving you the chance to pull away. But when you didn’t, when your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, his hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer.

The kiss deepened, the world around you fading until all you could feel was him—his warmth, his intensity, the way he seemed to pour everything he couldn’t say into the way his lips moved against yours.

When you finally broke apart, your breaths mingling in the quiet room, he rested his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your waist.

“Shi-chan,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse. “Tell me to stop, and I will. Just… tell me.”

You hesitated, your heart screaming one thing while your mind warned you of another. But as you looked up at him, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name, you found that you couldn’t say the words.

Instead, you leaned into him again, sighing in relief when he didn’t pull away.

His lips met yours again, this time with more certainty, and your world tilted on its axis. Every warning your mind screamed at you—this is wrong, it will only end in heartbreak—was drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the sensation of his hands gripping your waist like you were the only thing tethering him to this earth.

You gasped softly against him, and the sound broke something loose in him. His grip tightened, pulling you impossibly closer, his other hand sliding to cradle the back of your neck. You felt his tongue against yours, tasted his spit as his fingers tangled in your hair. It sent a shiver down your spine that burnt away whatever resolve you had left.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t want this. But as his kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second, all logic crumbled. There was only the searing heat of him, the way he smelled faintly of something sweet and familiar, and the feeling of his thumb brushing softly against your jaw, grounding you even as everything else spun out of control.

Every nerve in your body was alight, every ounce of restraint you thought you had vanished, replaced by the overwhelming need to stay in this moment, in this feeling, for as long as you could.

You pulled away just enough to catch your breath, your heart pounding like a drum in your ears. His eyes searched yours, wide and unguarded, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. His lips were red and slightly swollen, his chest rising and falling as if he’d just run a marathon.

“This isn’t—” you started in a breathless whisper, but the words caught in your throat when he cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones with a tenderness that sent another shiver through you.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice low and raw. “But… does it matter?”

Your throat tightened, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket, heavy and warm. You didn’t know how to answer him, and maybe he didn’t expect you to.

Instead, he leaned in again, his breath ghosting over your lips, his hands steady and sure against your skin. “Tell me this isn’t right,” he whispered, almost pleading now, his voice breaking just slightly.

But you couldn’t. You didn’t.

And so you kissed him again. Because in that moment, it felt right enough.

.

.

This is Chapter 3 of a multi-chapter fic to be crossposted to AO3. Taglist below as requested. @starlightglimmersworld @mccookiemonster @leilakaro @certainduckanchor @itsbellablue-blog @shokosbunny @megumisthirdog @thegh0stwife @54fangirl @misslovingpearl @idkuluka @bitchycloudstrawberry @pinkpunkdynamite @theclassbookworm @okaywitheverything

love u guys <3 thx for reading and reblogging

[okaywitheverything]

╰┈➤ satoru gojo x reader // reader self insert // prologue here

╰┈➤ like ghosts in the snow // synopsis: Two years ago, you vanished from Tokyo and its world of curses entirely. First grade status be damned-- you were gone without a trace. Left to raise the son of the strongest sorcerer in a world far removed from the dangers you and his father both had been subject to. You escaped the endless battle of curses vs man, the burden of a life sopping wet with death and tragedy. Here, in the solitude of these snow-covered mountains, you were finally safe.

Right?

╰┈➤ CH 1 TWs: male masturbation, explicit sexual content, graphic descriptions of sex, original characters used, secret pregnancy, mention of young children, mention of past character death, possible manga spoilers, blah blah blah. enjoy :)

╰┈➤ see story timeline here, if you wanna!

╰┈➤ next chappy :)

✎ side note before we dig in! I know y'all hate a YN so the reader has been given a random japanese name. welcome to ur new life as Shiori Myoji :)

Somewhere out west, 2018...

You sat alone in your cabin, staring at the flickering fire... The wind howled outside, shaking the windows and piling snow high against the panes. You barely noticed. Winter had come early this year, though the townsfolk chalked it up to the unpredictable nature of the mountains. You held a half-empty teacup, the liquid long since gone cold. Your fingers trembled slightly as you gripped its handle, though you told yourself it was just from the chill in the air. 

The fire crackled on, and your thoughts drifted like smoke, pulling you backward through time as you stared into the hypnotizing flames.

...

Tokyo, Japan- December 2014.

The first time you saw Satoru Gojo as human was at the ceremony following Suguru's death, a private event held at Tokyo Jujutsu High after hours. There weren’t many guests, but the crowd was big enough that he hadn’t seen you at first. You’d stood at the edge, out of the way, your umbrella shielding you from the rain pouring down as if the sky itself was in mourning, too. 

You hadn’t planned to approach him. What could you have said? The strongest sorcerer in the world, staring at the ground as though he could will himself to fall through it– what words could you possibly offer? Anything that crossed your mind felt hollow, tasted meaningless on your tongue. 

Yet, still, you approached. Those bright blue eyes had landed on you and you were drawn in, like a moth to flame. Your feet were moving before you realized what you’d done. 

“Shi-chan, you’re staring,” he chided, his voice sounding hollow. “Didn’t think you cared.”

“I don’t,” you replied, aware that you both knew it was a lie.

It always was.

He smiled, soft but genuine– like he was just grateful for your company. You nodded, letting him take what he wanted from the gesture. 

The relationship you’d had after wasn’t supposed to mean anything. A month of stolen moments, grief shared in the only ways you knew how. You sought comfort in each other’s arms, filling the empty spaces that Suguru had left behind. Late night texts. Solo outings. You told yourself that it wasn’t real, that it was just a way to cope. Was that a lie, too? 

That time together had changed everything. And two months later, when you realized you were pregnant, you knew that there was no going back. 

The sound of Haruto stirring in his sleep pulled you back to the present. The cabin’s quiet stillness wrapped tightly around you as you set down your teacup, your fingers still slightly shaking as you stepped toward your sleeping son, curled around his stuffed rabbit. He was so small, so peaceful– and yet, every time you looked at him, it was like staring into the past. Your big, scary past. 

His hair, white as the snow outside… his eyes, that same piercing shade of blue that gazed at you from across classrooms, found you in crowded hallways buried deep in your memory… Sometimes, if you looked at him just right, he even had his father’s stubborn smirk. Sometimes it was enough to make your heart ache. 

You didn’t regret leaving– you wouldn’t let yourself. You’d made the choice for Haruto, for Satoru, for humanity– he deserved a childhood free from the crushing weight of the Gojo name, free from the dangers of being born into a world of curses. And Satoru…

He didn’t need the burden of fatherhood, another anchor to his already heavy chains. 

He didn’t stop you when you left.

Your breath caught in your throat. You told yourself not to think about him, not to wonder where he was or what he was doing. You’d left him behind, you’d left everything behind, but the truth lingered. Sharp and bitter in the back of your throat. You’d run because you were afraid. Afraid for the part of you that wanted to believe that Satoru might have chosen you and the life growing inside of you over everything else. 

But you’d seen the threads of fate. Tangled, cruel, impossible to ignore. You left because you couldn’t bear to watch him choose the world over you. 

The fire snapped sharply, loud enough to make you jump. The flames cast dancing shadows against the walls, and you felt a familiar prickling at your scalp as you watched them move. It wasn't a vision, but a feeling, a suggestion that something may be on the horizon. You closed your eyes, trying to will fate’s whisper into a conversation, but it remained quiet– imperceptible. Glimpses came to you in flickering waves, an apparition at the edge of your mind… someone tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes like the sky…

Your chest tightened as you pushed the thought away with a gasp, forcing yourself to focus on the crackling fire and the sound of howling wind outside. 

“Shiori,” an older voice called softly from the adjoining room. “Are you still awake? It’s well past midnight.”

“Aya-san,” you replied, withdrawing your hand from your son’s hair. “Did I wake you?”

“No, child. The storm did.” Aya stepped lightly into the room, moving with the ease of someone used to late-night watches. She lowered herself onto the armchair by Haruto, dimming the table lamp and casting soft shadows across her face. 

Aya Takahashi, formerly Zenin– she’d sought an escape from the troubling world of jujutsu, same as you. Born into the infamous Zenin clan with a powerful technique, she had built her life around the expectations of her lineage… until she met her late husband. He was a non-sorcerer whom she'd fallen in love with devastatingly quickly. Their love was defiant in the eyes of the Zenins, and Aya chose him over their approval. They ran away together, knowing the cost of their love, only for her spiteful relatives to come for them both, bringing their marriage to a sudden, violent end. 

Aya lost her husband that day.

She ran away to this sleepy, mountainside town out west, hoping that its wild, untamed cursed energy would mask her signature. For thirty years, she had been successful. When she came across you and Haruto, barely ten months old at the time, she saw herself in your struggle, and she knew... she couldn’t walk away. 

And gods bless her soul, she didn’t.

Aya had become such an unassuming yet steady presence in your life—a former sorceress who had left her old life behind and found solace in this small, secluded town just like you had.

The arrangement had begun with practicality, but Aya’s quiet strength and experience had turned her into a figure of comfort, almost a guardian. Her motherly tendencies extended to you as much as to Haruto, though she rarely showed her cards outright.

Aya studied you for a moment, her expression knowing. “Something tells me you haven’t slept yet,” she hummed, reaching to turn on the television as if to settle in for a watchful night.

You studied her with a hint of reluctance, knowing exactly what she intended. “Aya-san, you really don’t have to—”

“Go and rest, Shiori.” Her voice was gentle, but her tone left no room for debate. “I’ll be here if the boy wakes.”

“But I—,”

The look she gave you, one full of quiet insistence, spoke louder than any further protests you could make.

With a resigned sigh, you shook your head and accepted the fate she’d laid out for you, the comfort of her presence an unspoken balm. You relented and bid her goodnight, resting a comforting hand on Haruto’s little head before walking away. 

Tokyo, Japan- 2018.

In Tokyo, Satoru Gojo was feeling a similar kind of anxiety. 

Ryomen Sukuna had a vessel. The thought of it alone made his jaw clench tightly. It was unprecedented, unpredictable, and as far as he was concerned, a major pain in the ass. There were no protocols for this sort of thing— well, maybe one, but that was the last thing he wanted. “I can’t let them kill him,” he muttered to himself, tone sharp as nails. “He’s just a kid.”

He leaned back in his office chair, staring out at the Tokyo skyline with mild interest. His head pulsed with a day-old migraine as he studied the tiny flares of cursed energy erupting in short bursts across the city's grid. The presence of curses and the activity of curse users had become more erratic than usual, flickering in the depths of the city like embers waiting to be ignited. It had only gotten worse since Sukuna's fingers entered the equation; like all of Japan was holding its breath. Even with his technique, Satoru was struggling to keep up with the endless spikes of energy on the horizon. His head throbbed, his senses constantly assaulted until finally, he pulled the blinds closed. 

Satoru sighed. He hadn't been this on edge in a very long time, not since...

He dismissed the thought, reaching for a bottle of painkillers nearby and rattling it in a last-ditch effort to dull the throbbing in his skull. He popped two in his mouth and swallowed them dry before running a broad palm over his face, a low groan slipping out as he reached his lips. "This is fucking stupid," he muttered, voice muffled by his hand.

With a sigh, he pushed himself out of the chair and stretched his long arms above his head, joints stiff and aching from too many hours of vigilance and too little rest. He hated to even consider leaving campus, knowing that Yuuji-- no. Sukuna was here. Yuuji had done well in controlling the king of curses since they had started training, but the thought of leaving him alone still left Satoru uneasy. Could he really turn his back on him?...

Yes, he decided, as his eyes caught sight of his phone screen flashing the time: 3:55pm. He hadn't slept a wink in over 40 hours, a reckless oversight even by his standards. His Six Eyes needed rest, and he'd be no use to anyone-- especially against Sukuna --if he burned out completely. I can leave. Just for a few hours.

With a tired sigh, he dialed his assistant. “Ijichi,” he sang half heartedly into his cell, his voice missing some of its usual playfulness. “I’m going home.”

Ijichi's protests were immediate, though muffled through the receiver. Satoru didn't bother listening. He slipped the phone into his back pocket without even hanging up, ignoring the last few sputters of "--but Gojo-san!"

Stretching his limbs once more, he felt the weight of exhaustion settling into his bones. It wasn't like him to abandon his post so early into the afternoon, but he wouldn't be of any use in this state. Half-blind, staggering through a haze of pain. The pounding behind his eyes was growing unbearable, his senses dulling with each passing minute. 

With one last glance at the skyline, Satoru exhaled, letting his shoulders drop just slightly. It was strange, the guilt that had begun creeping in these days, as if his raw determination alone would be enough to protect humanity from Sukuna's dark influence. But at his core, he knew that if he wasn't sharp, if he wasn't fully there, then he was no more than a tired body standing watch. 

Humanity deserved better than that. 

Yuuji deserved better than that. 

In his apartment, Satoru wandered thoughtlessly into his bedroom, tossing aside his phone, his wallet, his blindfold, and all of the other little trinkets he carried on the job. The blinds were drawn and the room was dark; still, he manipulated the pitch black space seamlessly, thankful for the small mercy of darkness. He migrated to his shower-- something else he'd been putting off. 

The hot stream of water-- scalding against his porcelain skin --was healing. Following the contours of his body, mapping the planes of his muscles as it traveled across his skin. The rich scent of his body wash hung thickly in the air, cutting through 40 hours' worth of sweat and frustration. With a sigh, he bowed his head, letting it all fall into his eyes, mouth. 

What the fuck had happened to him? 

Being alone was something he still struggled with. He'd once thought of Suguru as the only person who could possibly understand the isolation that followed his responsibilities as the strongest. But Suguru was gone, had been gone longer even than he'd been dead, and all that was left now was... Satoru and his sadness? Longing? He didn't know what he was feeling. 

Remorse? 

"You promise you won’t regret this?"

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Eyes snapping open, he reared his head back. Infinity kept him from losing his balance, thankfully, but didn't stop the way he wobbled a bit on his feet with the emotional whiplash he'd just received from that memory. That voice. 

He exhaled, long and slow, steam swirling in the dimmed light. His pulse quickened just slightly as the memory returned to him in living color, as if he were reliving it-- naked and vulnerable. 

A laugh-- soft like morning mist. Perfume dancing across his senses, igniting warmth within his chest. He felt her  presence even here, in the sanctuary of his mind. 

Shiori Myoji. The Clairvoyance User. 

The quiet, mundane memory came to him suddenly-- like his pain had picked the lock to a door he'd forgotten long ago. She was sitting on the edge of a windowsill in the Jujutsu High dorms, delicate fingers cradling a cup of tea. He sat beside her, much too close, with a large hand resting on her covered thigh. She was blushing, and he remembered the way it made his heart race. Has anyone ever done that before? 

Has anyone ever done that... since? 

"You're incorrigible,"  she scolded lightly, though the light smile upon her lips told him all that he needed to know. With a glance toward the halls, assuring there would be no witnesses, she leaned into him and he did the same, capturing her mouth in a tender kiss.

Fuck, she was always so soft. So calm. The kind of calm he pretended that he was, but had never really felt. Only in these moments, did she ever seem to look at him. Usually, her gaze extended into a space that he couldn't see-- a space that no one occupied, as if she were seeing something that he couldn't. 

The water hit his shoulders harder now, as if trying to call him back to the present. He straightened, shaking his head as if that could wash away the memory of her. As if it were something that could be scrubbed away as easily as sweat and blood from his skin. 

But she lingered, as she always seemed to do. She'd been away for too long for him to still think of her. She was a distraction at the time, something they both craved desperately. That is what she was, wasn't she? His distraction. His excuse. His anchor when the weight of Suguru's passing had threatened to tilt him off-balance. She was his-- then, now, whether she knew it or not. 

His, because he couldn't let her be anything else.

Yes, a voice in his head purred. Yours, it agreed— languid and sweet, sounding suspiciously like her. 

She was an addiction he’d been more than willing to rid himself of— even if it hurt like pouring salt into a wound. He’d love to say that he didn’t feel it, or that it paled in comparison to the pain of killing his best friend, but that simply wasn’t true. He’d grown attached to her warmth, her quiet strength, the mutual understanding of their own responsibilities as sorcerers. She’d been an enigma to him in high school, a close friend as an adult, and now? A ghost. A shadow. Someone who knew him intimately, someone whose taste hadn’t left his mouth since the last time his tongue was inside of her— because only he knew her so intimately, too. 

Only he had been privy to the way that her brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and disgust when he said something lewd, the way her cheeks would darken at the slightest mention of their extracurricular affairs, igniting a fire in the pit of Satoru’s belly each time. Only he got to see the spit-slick part of her lips when she came, her wet heat wrapped so tightly around his member that he’d nearly blacked out at the force of his own orgasm. Only he knew that it was like that every. Single. Time. with her, like they were both squirming virgins experimenting with strange new feelings. 

Except Satoru had never felt so enthralled with a lover before, and he never would again— something he’d come to terms with after trying and failing to fill the void she left in his life as his ‘distraction’. That’s all she was.

Right?

“Fuck,” he muttered through clenched teeth as he recalled her image in near-perfect clarity, spread out above his sheets— moaning softly, gasping his name when he fucked her just right. “Fucking shit.”

Satoru took himself in his hand, letting the water cascade down his back as he hunched over, pressing his forehead against the cool tile as he recalled more. Her dainty fingers tangled in his hair as she writhed beneath him, bucking her hips against his pelvis and fucking herself on his cock. Broken whispers of ‘Satoru, please,’ as her walls contracted around him, milking his seed into her waiting womb. The taste of her sweat on his tongue, salty and sweet, while he sucked his little purple love bites into her skin. He’d spell out his fucking name with them if he could. 

He’d carve it into her flesh with his teeth if she’d let him. 

Feelings Satoru had never experienced before her— or after her — flooded his senses. The hollow ache of desperation as he craved her warmth, the bitter taste of jealousy as he thought of her with anyone else, the crushing weight of grief when he remembered she was gone—

“Fucking miss you,” he spat, pumping desperately into his own fist, slick with prespend. “Fucking miss the way you feel.”

In his mind’s eye, Shiori writhes underneath him, pinned to the mattress by his weight. Her fingers tangle into his hair as he fucks into her, hard and fast, carving out a space just for him. He’s grunting along with his thrusts, her pretty little gasps coming out in broken hiccups. They’re hiding in the campus dorms again and they have to be quiet; she muffles a loud cry against his shoulder, teeth baring down into his flesh as she locks her legs around his waist with surprising ferocity, holding him so deep inside of her, and oh shit they forgot a condom—

“Fuck,” he hissed out in a sharp breath, tightening his grip on himself. The exhaustion in his bones temporarily forgotten, Satoru slammed a fist onto the wall above his head, a satisfying little crack! coming from the tile. His orgasm had nearly taken his breath away in its intensity, years of frustration and repressed feelings finally coming to a sore, bursting head. 

He stood panting in the shower stall, watching the physical evidence of his longing swirl down the drain. His head pulsed with every beat of his heart, the effort he’d exerted not mixing kindly with his already throbbing migraine. He groaned, running a hand through his slick hair, and subsequently flicking water onto the wall behind him. Fucking Shiori, he muttered to himself. 

Head swimming, Satoru emerged from the muggy bathroom several minutes later. He was still stewing over his momentary loss of control. He could have anyone he wanted, and here he was, fisting his cock to memories of an old flame. A ghost from his past. 

He’d buried her in the place he’d buried Suguru— except, the ache was different knowing that her physical form still roamed this earth. Somewhere. He could find her, if he wanted to. Maybe she'd be able to tell him what the fuck he should do, how the fuck he was going to save a 16 year old boy with an eons-old curse living inside of him. 

A plan began to unfurl inside of him, unwillingly. A first grade sorceress, gone without a trace... But all cursed energy left residuals, didn’t it? Would it really be so hard for the Six Eyes to follow her clues, hunt her down, and bring her back home? 

It wouldn’t be hard, but it wouldn’t be right, he thought. 

Last he heard, Shiori had fled west to study cursed energy manifestation in other regions. It was a convincing cover up, but given her technique and her history of omitting bigger details, he'd always assumed there were other implications to why and where she'd gone. Did she know what was happening in Tokyo? Did she see something that he didn't? 

Of course she fucking did, he scoffed, slipping a t-shirt over his bare shoulders. When didn't she? She always knew more than she let on. It had frustrated him back then, and it frustrated him even more now. The idea that she might have seen this, predicted it-- Sukuna, Yuuji, the spiraling chaos of Tokyo's curses --and had chosen to leave anyway gnawed at him. 

The truth was, he didn't want to think about why she left. Shit, he didn't want to think about her at all. But her name sat heavy on his chest now, a quiet itch he couldn't continue to ignore. If anyone could make sense of the impossible, it was her. And yet... she was gone. She'd left without so much as a goodbye, or a trace worth following. Maybe that was all of the explanation he really needed. 

Maybe that was all of the closure he’d ever get.

With a low groan, Satoru flopped onto his bed, stretching his arms out wide. He didn't get tired often, but exhaustion was settling into his bones. He closed his eyes, letting the darkness settle over him, the plan that he refused to admit beginning to stir in his minds' eye once more, unwelcome and persistent. He could find her. If he wanted to. If he needed to.

.

.

This is Chapter 1 of a multi-chapter fic to be crossposted to AO3. Taglist below as requested. @starlightglimmersworld @mccookiemonster @leilakaro @certainduckanchor @itsbellablue-blog @shokosbunny @hyookka @drogonfruitzen

[okaywitheverything]

"Boys don't cry"

He's heard those words ever since he was a little kid. The people around him always told him how he needed to be a "big boy", and big boys never cry.

He didn't cry when he scraped his knee on the slide. He didn't cry when he got his first failling grade. He didn't cry when things went badly in his life. He was sure his tear glands weren't even working at this point.

He never cries. He's a big boy. Big boys don't cry.

So why does he feel his cheeks wet when he sees you dressed in white?

Why does he feel like breaking down into tears while you make your way to the altar, smile radiant as ever and holding a big, pretty flower bouquet?

Why does he keep blinking his eyes as you approach him and link your hands with his? And why is his vision getting blurred when he realized you were soon to share the same last name?

It then dawned on him.

He wasn't a boy. He wasn't a big boy, either. He was a man.

And when the priest finally says: "You may kiss the bride" and he finally lets the tears fall freely as your mouths get closer, he realized he learned something today.

Boys don't cry, but men do.

And he was a man. Your man. And he would gladly cry in front of the whole world if it meant keeping that title.

TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Kunigami Rensuke, REO MIKAGE (even tho he cried when Nagi left him lol), SENDOU SHUTO, Rin Itoshi, Megumi Fushiguro, Geto Suguru, Gojo Satoru, ATSUMU MIYA, KAGEYAMA TOBIO, Oikawa Tooru, IWAIZUMI HAJIME, Kuroo Tetsuro, Ushijima Wakatoshi, KITA SHINSUKE + your favs!

Masterlist

[okaywitheverything]

BLUE LOCK // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works. creds for divider

itoshi rin

because you're my muse

wallet

make you mine

nodus tollens

nothing more than lovesick

supernatural

mutual support

jealousy

itoshi sae

seabird

devotion

us, again

it would have been sweet

find love

freefall

valentines

michael kaiser

five dates and a proposal

sweet nothings

stench

red

what does it mean if i can't write a love letter?

it's like i'm painting pictures the way i picture paint

pulling pigtails

yoichi isagi

say you love me

fake it 'til we make it

football for dummies

lost

wednesdays with you

skirt physics

seishiro nagi

your attention on me, please!

flight of the navigator

hell or glory, i don't want anything in between

lullaby

his favorite character

good luck charm

reo mikage

sharing secrets in the dark

your tequila lips is my idea of luxury

[okaywitheverything]

'•.¸♡BUY ME THE MOON࿐ྂ SANO "MIKEY" MANJIRO x f!READER

ONE — house of glass

chapter summary: a 'sheltered girl' living a somewhat secluded life, hidden away from the public eye as the secret daughter of Japan's president, celebrates her 20th birthday alone. Meanwhile, Sano Manjiro, the man with the country under his boot, helps the president win the election and gets engaged to his oldest daughter.

chapter warnings: DARK CONTENT 18+, mentions of prostitution, car accidents, spoiled!reader, inaccurate depiction of politics and political climate, infidelity, cheating, implications of abortion, character death, sexism, isolation, violence, corruption, objectification(not reader)

word count: 3377

masterlist | chapter 2

The world is unfair. You realized that pretty quickly when you were young. That's why every day you're thankful your dad is disgustingly rich and loves the smile on your face more than he loves being a good person.

You were the daughter of a prostitute and a politician. Odd combination, yes, you know. Years ago, your dad made the drunken decision to cheat on his current wife and there, low and behold, the story of your birth.  Surprisingly, your father wanted your mother to keep you. 

Your filthy rich politician dad buys your mother a mansion hidden away from the public in the woods. It's there you are born and there that your father's first wife finds out about you and what your father had done. 

Saimori Shinichi was no good man and perhaps his wife, Saimori Kanoko should have known that the man would cheat. But what she hadn't expected was for him to keep you, an illegitimate child he looked at more fondly than he's ever looked at Kaya, his first daughter. You personally do not understand the reason for your father's blatant favouritism but you could care less.

Shinichi keeps his cheating under wraps and Kanoko is forced to go along with it. After all, what is more disgraceful than being cheated on with a prostitute? You are kept hidden away from the spotlight. No one knows of your existence except for a few of your father's bodyguards, Kanoko and Kaya.

When you turn 5, your mother passes away in a car accident.

You can't say you were... sad. You felt something but it wasn't like you got along with your mother when your father wasn't around. Your mother wished you were born a son but Kaya tells you she's thankful you aren't a boy or else she would have hated you more. 

There were both good and bad things in life and it seems for Kaya, a good thing for her was that you were not only illegitimate but also a girl like her. 

A good thing for you? Daddy's money.

Over the years, your father climbed up higher and higher in the social ladder and became a candidate for president.

You, on the other hand, were his hidden daughter, a current university student majoring in fashion design. You spend most of your time buried in books and fabrics, dreaming up designs that would never see the light of day. But that was okay, because the world outside was a scary place, and your cozy mansion provided all the safety and comfort you needed. You went to class and came back. You had no reason to make any friends. Friends were a security issue and you couldn't have that. It wasn't like you needed anyone else anyway. 

On the eve of your 20th birthday, you wake up to the same routine. A luxurious breakfast prepared by the house staff, a solitary stroll in the mansion's sprawling gardens, and then back to your room where you lose yourself in the world of sketches and swatches. Birthdays were just another day, after all. But this birthday feels different, a subtle shift in the air that you can't quite pinpoint. Maybe it's the loneliness that settles heavier on your shoulders today, the absence of any real connection beyond the opulent walls of your prison. Or perhaps it's the nagging feeling that there's more to life than what your father's money can buy. But that's a stupid thought.

You sit in a room of the mansion on the floor with your laptop in front of you and an embroidery hoop in your hand. This specific room was set up by your father so you had your own space to store fabrics and other things you needed. But it wasn't really needed. You were the only one who lived in the mansion anyway. Kaya and your stepmother lived in Tokyo with your father. After all, they had to make it seem to the public that they were a happy family. 

You thread the needle through the fabric in the hoop as you listen to what is being said on the news. It's about 11:30 pm. You're watching the live results of the election playing. The winner will be announced at 12 am. For this election, your father was one of the candidates. 

As the clock ticks closer to midnight, you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation mingled with dread. You're supposed to be happy, right? After all, your father's victory would secure your comfortable lifestyle for the foreseeable future. But deep down, you can't shake the feeling that something about this whole situation is wrong.

The television screen flashes with the latest updates on the election results. Your father's face appears on the screen, his usual charming smile plastered across his features as he shakes hands with supporters. But behind that facade, you know the truth. You know the lengths he's gone to secure his victory, the shady deals and underhanded tactics he's employed.

You sigh, focusing back on your embroidery, the needle moving rhythmically through the fabric. Your phone buzzes beside you, startling you out of your reverie. It's a text from your father, a rare occurrence in itself.

"Victory assured. Be ready" it reads. Short and cryptic, as always.

You roll your eyes, setting the phone back down without replying. Be ready for what? Another party you won't attend? Another parade of false smiles and empty promises? You continue stitching, the repetitive motion soothing your restless mind.

As the clock strikes midnight, the news anchor's voice crescendos with excitement, announcing your father's victory. Your father's face is back on the screen, victorious and gleaming. For a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to step out of the shadows, to be acknowledged as his daughter, to be part of the life you can only watch from a distance. But then again, you remember all the unnecessary scrutiny Kaya goes through on a daily and wonder perhaps it was for the best that you weren't out in the spotlight like her. 

Almost like the cameraman heard your thoughts, the screen changes to Kaya who is hugging your father with a huge smile on her face. Her hair and makeup are done perfectly and her outfit is without a wrinkle in sight. You smile. She looks pretty. Now, you would probably text Kaya that but you don't get along with her. She doesn't like you and you don't like her. It's as simple as that. Telling Kaya she looked pretty would upset the fragile balance you've maintained with her and psychological warfare was more fun. So instead you text:

[12:04 am] cute outfit but is that a white hair I see?

You giggle to yourself and put your phone down. However, your smile quickly fades realizing you were spending your birthday alone. You just turned 20 and here you are, in one of the rooms in the mansion in the woods, surrounded by colourful fabrics and a laptop on the floor. The mansion is eerily quiet as the celebration rages on in Tokyo. The only sounds are the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway and the occasional rustle of the wind through the trees outside. You look out the window, at the dark, moonlit forest surrounding the mansion. Sometimes you wonder if this isolation is a curse or a blessing. Your world is so small, confined to the mansion's walls and the occasional trips to your university. There's an almost suffocating security in your routine, a predictability that keeps you anchored. But tonight, the loneliness feels more palpable, more oppressive.

You didn't want to seem ungrateful or spoiled. After all, your father always gave you whatever you wanted and loved you a lot. You know he did and he showed it as well. The only thing was that he didn't acknowledge you in public and couldn't talk about you. It wasn't like you were really complaining about it. It was just that you felt really lonely right now. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a car approaching. It's unusual for anyone to visit the mansion at this hour, especially on election night. You set your embroidery hoop aside and move to the window, peering through the curtains. A sleek black car pulls up to the front entrance then a few more and then a truck.  Your heart skips a beat. Who could it be at this hour? Your mind races through possibilities, none of them comforting. You consider calling your father, but dismiss the idea just as quickly. He wouldn't appreciate being disturbed during his victory celebrations. But then you realize that perhaps it's nothing as you watch security lead the cars to the side which was direct entry to the backyard. Maybe it was nothing. 

The mansion was extremely secure and security very loyal. Your father paid them well and was actually pretty nice to them. They had no reason to sell your father out so, these new people arriving were not anything alarming. Perhaps your father was increasing security now that he was president. You shrug and pick your laptop off the floor, leave the room and head to your own bedroom. That was enough stitching for tonight. 

You settle onto the plush bed in your room, laptop on your lap and start to do some online shopping. The rhythmic movements of your fingers on the keyboard and each new item you add to your cart help soothe your frayed nerves, but you can't shake off the curiosity about the late-night visitors. It's not unusual for your father to have secretive dealings, but the timing feels odd. You mentally list all the possible reasons for the visit, each one more unlikely than the last. 

Oh well, you think and open up Viviene Westwood.

"Stupid brat" Kaya mutters as she closely examines each strand of her black hair in the mirror of the private bathroom in the president's office

After you sent her that text about white hair she couldn't help but internally panic. Kaya glares at her reflection in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair, searching for any sign of a stray gray strand. Of course, there isn't one, but your message has done its job: she's flustered and annoyed. She was on TV just moments ago with her father and the thought of the entire country seeing a damn white hair on her head makes her sick. 

There was a lot resting on her now. She was the daughter of the fucking president and that came with responsibilities. Kaya takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside her. She can't afford to let her facade crack, not now, not when she's so close to achieving everything she's ever wanted. She splashes cold water on her face, letting the shock jolt her back to reality. She adjusts her perfectly tailored suit, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. Everything about her has to be flawless, and impeccable, a reflection of the prestigious position she holds as the president's daughter. She can't afford any slip-ups, especially not now when the media's eyes are trained on her every move.

But despite her outward confidence, there's a gnawing sense of insecurity that never quite leaves her. It's always been there, lurking beneath the surface, a constant reminder of her status as the second-best daughter. She hates that you, the hidden daughter, exist. She hates that you're a constant reminder of her father's infidelity, a stain on their perfect family image.

But what she hates most of all is the fact that you seem to revel in your position as the favoured daughter, even though you're nothing more than a spoiled, sheltered brat. But Kaya refuses to let you get under her skin. She's worked too hard and sacrificed too much to let some spoiled princess steal her thunder. She'll do whatever it takes to maintain her status, even if it means playing dirty. She's learned from the best, after all. She tosses her phone onto the vanity, the screen lighting up with a text from her fiancé, Sano Manjiro.

Kaya found it dumb that her father even suggested this engagement. Sano Manjiro and the rest of Bonten were no normal businessmen. They were fucking snakes, criminals. Kaya hated her father for setting her up with a damn criminal like Sano Manjiro but at least he's hot and has money. Kaya scoffs at the message, her lips curling into a smirk. She knows Manjiro's just another pawn in her father's game, a means to an end. She doesn't love him, and she's sure as hell he doesn't love her either. Their engagement is nothing more than a business transaction, a way for her father to solidify his ties with the underworld. But Kaya isn't stupid; she knows how to play the game. She'll use Manjiro to further her own ambitions, to climb even higher up the social ladder.

But even as she revels in her own cunning, there's a part of Kaya that can't shake off the feeling of unease that's been gnawing at her ever since she received your text. She knows you're up to something, knows you're not as innocent as you pretend to be. And that terrifies her. Because if there's one thing Kaya can't stand, it's being outmaneuvered.

She glances at herself in the mirror one last time, adjusting her expression into one of poised elegance. She can't let anyone see the cracks in her facade, can't let them see the insecurity that's been eating away at her from the inside out. With one last deep breath, she squares her shoulders and steps out of the bathroom, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

As she exits the bathroom, her eyes flicker to the closed door of her father's office, where he's no doubt celebrating his victory with his cronies. She knows she should join them, should bask in the glory of her father's success. But right now, all she can think about is you, the mysterious girl hidden away in the mansion in the woods, the one who threatens to unravel everything she's worked so hard to achieve.

With a determined set to her jaw, Kaya strides towards the door, her mind already racing with plans and schemes. She may not be able to control everything, but she'll be damned if she lets you ruin everything she's worked so hard for. You may be the president's secret daughter, but Kaya is the president's daughter, and she'll be damned if she lets anyone forget it.

 She glances down at her phone remembering she hadn't responded to Manjiro's text. But then again, she also has no plans to respond to him. She rolls her eyes before responding with a quick, "Busy. Later." She had plans for this evening with a pretty boy she saw at the rally tonight. 

Little does she know, Manjiro has his own plans for the evening.

You smell something burning. You narrow your eyes, push your laptop off your lap and get off the bed, heading for your balcony. You push open the double glass doors and the smell gets stronger, the acrid scent filling your nostrils as you step onto the balcony. The night air is cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from the source of the smell. You follow the scent, your gaze sweeping over the sprawling grounds of the mansion, searching for any sign of smoke or flames.

And then you see it.

A bonfire?

There are a few men standing around it with large boxes nearby. You furrow your brow in confusion, wondering what could possibly be going on. This isn't a normal occurrence at the mansion, especially not at this hour. You watch in silence as they throw sheets of paper into the fire, emptying out box by box making sure none flies away. Your curiosity piqued, you lean forward slightly, trying to get a better view of what's happening down below. The men seem to be completely absorbed in their task, their movements swift and purposeful. You can't make out their faces in the darkness, but their silhouettes dance against the flickering flames of the bonfire. "hmm..." you murmur when you see a flash of pink

As your eyes adjust to the darkness you notice the bright hair colours on a few of the men. Purple, white and pink. The rest have black hair. Your eyes focus on a few men in particular, laughing and smoking while the rest empty the boxes into the fire. You squint your eyes and notice the two men with purple hair have matching tattoos on their throats, the same design that the guy with the long white hair has on his scalp. With bated breath, you continue to watch from your vantage point on the balcony, trying to piece together what's happening down below. The men seem to be finishing up their task, the last of the boxes emptied into the roaring flames of the bonfire. "what..." You mutter trying to figure out exactly what is going on

With your focus being on the bonfire below you in the backyard, you don't hear your bedroom door opening. Before you can even blink, your body is forcefully turned around. Your heart leaps to your throat as you're suddenly spun around, your back meeting the balcony railing with a jolt. You gasp in shock, your eyes widening as you find yourself face-to-face with a man you've never seen before. He's sort of tall, but still somehow intimidating, with sharp features and piercing eyes that seem to bore into your soul. His hair is a striking shade of white, a stark contrast to his dark clothing and the darkness of the night. 

But it's not just his appearance that sends a shiver down your spine; it's the aura of power and danger that surrounds him like a cloak. This man is no ordinary stranger; he's someone to be feared, someone to be respected. However, your eyes light up in interest. Oh wow. He may be scary but he's gorgeous. His arms are muscular, you can tell by the way his shirt creases while he keeps you caged in place against the railing. He's not huge though. He's lean and it's damn attractive. Your pulse quickens as you take in his intense gaze, feeling a strange mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through your veins. You've never encountered someone like him before, someone who exudes such raw power and authority without even saying a word. And yet, there's something undeniably captivating about him, something that draws you in despite your better judgment.

His eyes, sharp and calculating, seem to bore into your very soul, assessing you with a scrutiny that makes your skin prickle with awareness. You're frozen in place, unable to tear your gaze away from his, feeling as though you're trapped in some sort of unspoken standoff. But despite the fear that courses through your veins, there's also a strange sense of... excitement. It's pretty quickly you realize who this is as you think about the tattoos on the men around the fire. 

Your mind draws back to your laptop, to all the tabs of designer brands open and the things in your cart. You can't help but compare this man to all the expensive items you've been eyeing online—the sleek leather handbags, the luxurious silk dresses, the designer heels. He exudes the same air of opulence and exclusivity, a rare gem in a world full of imitations. But unlike those material possessions, there's something inherently dangerous about him, something that sets him apart from the rest.

You remember your father's words, him always telling you he could buy you whatever you wanted. You were about 6 or 7 when you asked him for the moon. Your father told you he couldn't but it's always been a childish wish of yours. 

However, it seems that Sano Manjiro is the closest to that moon you've always wanted.

His hand comes up and brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, the tips of his fingers rough and calloused. "Happy Birthday, princess"

notes: welcome to Buy Me the Moon :)) I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Yes, I know it was uneventful and short but this is also the introduction chapter. I promise the next chapter will have more... spice. lol.

check here for progress on the next chapter and other works

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

taglist: @m-ilkiee @reiners-milkbiddies @short-cxke @brisssaaa009 @tenjikusstuff4 @asirensrage @merrymerrykiss @fushiquro @iwasei @kiwixpi @mysouleaten @luminouslaybyrinth @maraya-007 @dolfiins-art @yuyu12mm @kodzubaby @zantetsuwu @hayatisyourlife

[okaywitheverything]

TW: yandere, classism, degradation, possessiveness, obsessiveness, blackmail

gn reader - feminine clothing (jewelry: earrings, necklace)

Thinking about your rich boyfriend…

Rich boyfriend – who buys you clothes and jewelry every time you have a date, even when you tell him you feel bad receiving them all – that you have nowhere to wear such nice things – that a simple date is really more than enough. 

Rich boyfriend – who ignores you with a smile and shake of his head, asking you how you expect him to stop when you’re just the absolute cutest? Looking at him with those moon-big eyes, humble crinkle between your brows, and your lip tucked nervously between your teeth to keep from gawking. 

Rich boyfriend – who orders for you at all the restaurants he takes you to because he knows you’ve never been anywhere like it. Looking so adorably lost in your seat, flushed when staring at the menu written in a language you can’t read – knowing even if you could, you still wouldn't know what any of it meant. You’re so, so, so precious – eyes peeled like you’re a pet who’s just been allowed at the table for the first time.

Rich boyfriend – who plays four instruments, speaks five languages, went to an Ivy League institution, and will inherit his entire family’s business being the spoiled only child that he is.

Rich boyfriend – who just loves the messy household you grew up in – loves how you and your siblings interact with each other, looking like a bundle of pups all crammed in the same cage at a pet store – how your childhood bedroom is the size of his closet – filled with all sorts of trinkets you’ve kept growing up – stuff that would usually wind up in the trash at his house – polaroids of you as a teenager, past boyfriends in kissing booths, prom pictures, concert tickets, and old rusty friendship lockets. 

It’s all so… He scoffs. The word for it escapes him.

Suppose he doesn’t quite recognize the pricelessness of sentimental value as opposed to something actually sellable – but he finds it cute that you do. 

Though, it bothers him to some degree as well… that you would value an old pair of earrings gifted you by your grandmother instead of the actual antique diamond pair he’d procured for you. After all, one was a real historic piece worth a fortune a Russian duchess had snuck into England during the war, and the other was old junk made by a noname jeweler.

Rich boyfriend – who chokes on his spit when you sit him down and tell him you want to break up – who thinks he’s misheard – that you’re joking, playing some uncultured game he’s never been exposed to, some ill-taste past-time only poor people do to escape their bitter reality. 

But you’re not joking… 

You’re breaking up with him…You.. You… broke trash of worker-class scum… you’re breaking up with him?

You give him back all his gifts in a cardboard box – telling him you’re grateful but that you truly don’t have any use for such things – that you think your worlds are too different to coincide. 

Of course, you refrain from telling him you think he’s a classist snob. You have a feeling it would have gone completely over his head if you’d tried anyway, so there really was no point to it.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who’s never been told no in his entire life…

Rich ex-boyfriend – who buys your street and plans on scrapping it to make brand new mansions in a project he dubs “cleaning up the slums” – evicting and putting you and your entire family out of the home you’d spent your entire life growing up in.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who thinks you’re crawling back to him when you schedule an appointment at his office – who thinks you’re going to come in with bleary wet eyes and grovel like the lowly peasant you are – let him save you from poverty and homelessness, make you his charity case – his pretty diamond in the rough who’s never quite able to wash all the coal off.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who trashes that same office when you leave after having given him the address to the pawnshop you sold the one pearl necklace you’d kept as a token of your relationship – telling him he should feel free to go down there and get it back – that you’re using the money to buy a better house and you just wanted to come and thank him for that. 

Of course, you wanted to slap him too – spit on his tie or maybe just take a piss on his desk – but you left it at that.

Rich ex-boyfriend – whose next move is to buy your family business, who hires a private eye to dig up dirt on you and all your family, burying you in fines from age-old petty crimes, gets you kicked from your scholarship.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who goes to that pawnshop and reports the pearl necklace as a stolen item and has the police arrest you. Spinning a story about how he thought you were this humble sweet thing, only for you to rob him behind his back.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who comes to visit you in the custody suite where you sit cooped up with all the other wretched mutts on the cold concrete floors – scolding you for making him come down to a dirty police precinct, for having him breathe the same air as all the lowlives held up there.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who tells you he’ll make it all go away.

He’ll drop the charges, let your family keep their house – or buy them an even better one, whichever you prefer – he’ll even promote your family business and pay for all your siblings' education – he’ll give you everything. 

Anything you want, it’s yours.

But he owns you.

BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya

HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo, Rin

HxH – Illumi

[okaywitheverything]

Could you write “Close your eyes so it’ll hurt less. for Satoru Gojoı with non-sorcerer reader.

It can be nsfw or punishment scenario <3

thanks in advance!

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, overprotective behavior, manipulation, clinginess, isolation, abduction, paranoia, Satoru breaks s/o's wrist

Words: 3.1 k

Prompt 192

'Beauty is deceiving. It hides who the true monster is.'

You couldn't quite recall when and where you had stumbled upon this phrase, if it had been spoken by someone or if you had read it in a book. Most likely because you had never given this analysis much thought when you had received it for the first time. In hindsight, you should have probably given those two sentences much more thought. Perhaps, but only perhaps, then you wouldn't have fallen so easily prey to a man whose powers and appearance resembled old folklore of ancient and powerful gods.

Satoru indeed, as you had learned the longer you had been with him, thought of himself as someone blessed and special. If anyone else would have said those words to you, you would have thought of them as delusional. Yet when Gojo Satoru said those words, they were no mere gloating fantasies. Instead those words were reality, a reality you had been exposed to ever since you had gotten involved with him.

A reality that frightened you and one that you still couldn't comprehend. Worst of all seemed to be that Satoru refused to expose his world to you. You had only pieces of the puzzle, an unfinished picture of the whole situation that left you with a strange mixture of fear and agitation.

"Even if I were to tell you, you wouldn't be able to do anything. I would only scare you unnecessarily."

Partially he had spoken the truth and you knew that. You wouldn't be able to do anything against whatever it was that his world held in store for you. Yet Satoru was mislead in his assumption that keeping the truth from you would spare you from unnecessary stress. It only amplified it as the fear of not knowing had become a familiar chain that restricted your mind. You had started viewing your surroundings with more caution and wariness, unaware what it was you had to look out for but on edge nevertheless. A feeling of constant alert had overcome you whenever you were conscious, one that had cost you.

No longer felt you able to relax or take joy in the simple things. What you didn't know was constantly on your mind, the nagging fear a festering tumor that spread inside your mind the more time you were forced to spend with him.

His constant presence did not do anything to soothe your growing anxiousness. On the contrary, it fueled those feelings inside of your chest only more. It was unclear to you whether he was oblivious to this fact or if he chose to ignore it and if you had to be truthful, you did not know which was worse.

There was only one thing he often felt the urgent need to remind you of.

That he was the good guy.

---

Your hold on the book tightened, your heart clenching in rapidly growing frustration as you tried your best to blend Satoru's presence out of your mind and focus.

"Don't ignore me, (y/n)!" He whined and his voice, one you used to perceive as a pleasant and delightful sound, made you cringe the same way the sound of nails against a chalkboard would have done. It was borderline agonising and you just wanted it to stop. Your jaw clenched, your head pounding as the anger piled on yet you tried to push everything down as you didn't want to lose your composure and, accompanying your composure, the grasp of control over your own emotions.

When you felt soft lips traveling down from your temple to your neck, you shut the book loudly before you stood abruptly up. Your fists were balled to fists as the pounding in your head seemed to intensify. You felt the urge to scream, to cry or to let your feelings vent out in any other way but you knew that you couldn't do that in front of him. Your feet stomped away from the scene in an attempt to get away from him. When you noticed that he stood up and followed you, you had to bite your tongue in your best attempt to not yell at him.

"Am I not even allowed to go to the bathroom alone?" You growled at him before locking the door to the only room where you could have at least a few minutes for yourself. You scowled at the hurt pout he gave you before his face disappeared from your sight. In the very same moment you locked the door, separating you from Satoru, it felt like someone had unlocked your ability to breathe properly again. The air tasted fresher and your chest felt lighter now that you were away from his smothering presence.

You drew water from the tap and splashed the cold liquid against your face in an attempt to soothe the burning pounding that had tormented you for the entire day already. You took those moments to let the silence and appreciated loneliness sink in, your face still buried in your head as you made no attempt to remove it from them.

As much as you would have wanted to stay like this for a while longer, you knew that you only had so much time before Satoru would grow impatient. You'd rather destroy this moment of peace due to your own will rather than to be thrown out of this tranquility by his own actions.

You turned the tap off and dried your face with the towel before you unlocked the door and turned the knob, expecting to hear his voice immediately calling for you or to even see him standing there.

Instead you heard his hushed voice from the living room and although you couldn't clearly hear all of his words, it sounded like he was talking to someone. For a split second you debated whether or not to use this chance to return to the bathroom or go somewhere else. On the other hand you knew too well that he would demand for you as soon as he was finished with this conversation so instead you opted to just head back to the living room as well.

When you peaked inside through the opened door, you could see that he was having a phone call with someone. Brilliant blue eyes darted up as soon as they saw you and a smile graced his lips for a few moments. You could clearly hear how his voice turned to a mere murmur as he suddenly turned his back on you and you knew instantly that the call must have been related to his job which is why he didn't want you to hear what he was hearing. You felt your curiosity urging you to step closer, so close that you would understand everything no matter how silent he might try to talk.

From previous experiences you knew that if you were to try that though, he would end the call instantly and merely tell the other person on the line to text him all the information before hanging up. So you just stood there and waited, feeling the frustration bubble up inside of you again.

As soon as he had ended the call, he turned around to you. A silly pout was on his face as he walked over to you before a dramatic sigh escaped him.

"Seems like I have to head out for a while. Something just came up."

Obviously he was clearly unhappy, you on the other mind felt like your soul was rejuvenating with the mere thought of having a few hours to yourself. Like everything else though, you also were smart enough to not gloat about those news so you gave him a curtly nod as your only response.

Large hands cradled your face as blue eyes looked at you.

"I'll be back as soon as possible. Just wait for me in the meantime, 'kay?"

You didn't return the kiss when you felt warm lips meeting your own but you also knew that with his grip on your face, you couldn't pull away so you just endured the feeling as your body visibly tensed up. Only when you pulled away did you dare to unclench your jaw again, your lips slightly parted as you looked into those otherwordly eyes.

"Maybe I'll buy you something nice if I find something." He continued to speak as he pressed quick kisses against your face as if quickly tanking some affection before he had to leave.

"Would you like something specific."

You merely shook your head.

"Just surprise me."

Really, you couldn't have cared less.

---

Satoru had returned far too quickly for your own taste. On the other hand he might as well have been gone for weeks and you would still bemourn his absence as too short.

With him he had brought bags full with clothes he had bought for you, in high moods as he had asked you to wear some of them so he could see if they would look as good on you as he had hoped them to be when he had wasted his money on them.

In an attempt to delay this event and prevent him from getting handsy, you had insisted on cutting off all the price tags first as you had assured him that you would like to keep everything that he had brought.

So now here you were, searching for the price tags on every piece of clothing before cutting it off with scissors. It was a lot of work but less because it took much physical exertion and more because of the sheer amount the white-haired man had bought.

Really, you could have enjoyed this task though as it was rather nice to do something.

So why couldn't he have just sat back and remained silent instead of touching you and talking to you? You just wanted some time for yourself.

You knew that he was trying to get you to talk to him by annoying you with questions and touches as he simply longed to hear your voice and to force you to interact with him. This was precisely what you didn't want and so you had to silently chant a mandra to calm your nerves as you hung up all the clothes in the wardrobe. You were surprised that you even had any space left considering that you had so many clothes already.

It was tedious to ignore him but you were normally somehow able to pull through with it. However, on this evening Satoru seemed to have finally enough of your dismissive attitude which was why he exactly spoke something that he knew would get your attention.

"I met your friends whilst I was shopping."

You froze, unable to control your reaction as you heard his words. A strange flood of emotions came over you and you caught yourself swallowing audibly as you tried to maintain some sort of control. You had already failed though and you knew that Satoru would try to use it to his advantage.

You wanted to ask him more but you knew that you couldn't as it was exactly what he wanted you to do so with slightly shaky hands you tried to focus on the task at hand.

Obviously he wouldn't drop the subject that easily though.

You felt his warm breath fawning the side of your face as he leaned closer to you, his eyes taking in the way you had pursed your lips and how you had furrowed your eyebrows as you weren't able to hide your feelings. You were missing your friends and family after all and the bastard knew it.

His own feelings rose up as he saw your face but not because he felt pity for you. Instead he felt his jealousy stirring slowly awake as he saw how affected you appeared by merely hearing him mentioning one of your friends. He envied the feelings you reserved only for them without giving him anything at all.

Why was that?

"Satoru..."

Your voice resembled more of a guttural growl when one of his hands grabbed your shoulders, clearly feeling how tensed your muscles were as you slowly cut off more price tags from pieces of clothing, your mind barely held together as you were trying in a last effort to hold back.

His name was spoken as a warning from your side as he knew that you were at your limit and that only from hearing from him about one of your friends. If he would have been a better man, he would have acknowledged how petty and low he was acting right now. However, Gojo Satoru wasn't a good man as jealousy started getting a hold of him.

"They all seemed to have quite a good time without you. It didn't really look like they were bemourning your disappearance. Perhaps you are the only one in the belief that they are missing you as much as you miss them."

You paused for seconds that seemed to stretch more than they should have before you put the shirt you had held in your hand down. Your head turned around as your own eyes met his blue ones. You didn't say anything at first, there wasn't even a trace of anger on your face as if you couldn't believe his words.

Then your pupils started quivering though and he saw how your gaze suddenly got poisoned with anger you had kept buried deep inside of you for the last few weeks.

You acted before you could even think as the one hand that had previously held the scissors suddenly flew towards him, fully committed to stab at least one of those cured blue eyes so that his gaze could never torment you again.

Only that the scissor never reached his eye. No matter what you tried, you couldn't move your hand any further, the sharp edge of the scissor only lingering close to his blue orbs.

It was that inability that caused you to snap out of your spiraling anger as you realised what you had just tried to do. You instantly withdrew your hand, visible shock on your face from your unexpected outburst. You felt your blood pumping through your veins and felt shame and frustration heating up your entire face as you had just lost your temper completely.

You ran your other hand through your hair as you took some shaky breaths to regain your control. When you finally managed to look up again, an apology lingering on your tongue for your reckless action that could have seriously wounded him, you found the words quickly dying down before they could even leave your mouth.

Normally already quite intense blue eyes were staring through you and your soul with a new weight to them that had you breaking out in cold sweat as you felt a cold sensation going down your spine.

You felt no relief when briefly his eyes darted down to look at your other hand which was still clutching the scissors on your palm, although you quickly dropped the object when you noticed his stare.

You flinched when one of his palms wrapped around your wrist and lifted your hand up. At first his touch was soft but within only a few seconds he tightened his hold until it felt like he was squeezing your bones.

You let out a short hiss when you felt the pain as you started squirming uncomfortably, trying to get him to let go of your wrist.

"You were about to stab me."

You shuddered when you heard the icy tone that seemingly matched his hardened and cold stare that he gave you right now, vastly different from what you were used.

You wanted to defend yourself. He had taunted you first and he had been the one who had brought you into such a situation were you would lose your self-control in the first place as you hadn't consciously intended to potentially hurt him seriously.

Yet he didn't let you utter even a single word as he pulled you closer to his body, his other hand gripping your chin and forcing you to look right into those glowing eyes.

"You wouldn't hurt me, right? You care about me after all, even if you don't want to show it."

There was something in his tone that gave you the chills. It wasn't anger or anything similar to that emotion though. It was a tremble, a barely audible tremble of an emotion akin to denial that made him look dangerously much like he was about to break down in front of you. Whatever you had just done, it seemed to have triggered something dangerous inside of him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I just lost control of myself for a moment."

You swallowed as you uttered those words quickly, your honest tone only slightly tarnished by the pain you felt as he was still squeezing your wrist. You found your own breath stopping as you looked at his face, praying for whatever had possessed him to stop.

"I knew. You wouldn't want to harm me. It's alright, darling. I forgive you."

You felt no relief when he cooed those words at you as he pulled you closer, giving you a kiss on your forehead. Instead you foud your stomach churning as you felt the stress rising inside of you, warning you that something was about to happen.

"Close your eyes so it'll hurt less."

You knew what he had done when you heard the sound yet you didn't instantly feel the pain. Instead your widened eyes stared into his own blue ones with a mixture of shock and betrayal.

You stumbled back in shock, cradling your broken wrist against your chest as the pulsing and cutting pain finally began to settle in. Tears instantly started to gather in your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks and choked sobs started leaving your lips as you slid down to the ground.

"I know. I know. It must hurt quite a bit."

His voice was sweet and soothing as his arms embraced you, one of his hands wiping away your tears as you continued staring at him with unbridled shock and terror as you felt soft touches on your face from the same hand that had just moments ago broken your wrist as if it was a mere twig.

The fear grew and grew until you felt unable to look into his eyes again, turning your eyes elsewhere as your lips started to wobble.

He had never hurt you before. Perhaps that's why you had felt so entitled to ignore him as he had been only ever acted like a clingy and whiny man around you.

Clearly you had been wrong though.

[okaywitheverything]

Gojo Satoru

TW: NSFW, implied noncon, yandere, forced/arranged marriage

fem reader

Childhood friend Satoru – who’d whine about cooties but at the same time be the one chasing you around with bugs and slugs on a stick and a bright big sun-swallowing grin across his face.

Childhood friend Satoru – who got somewhat of a nervous breakdown when he suddenly realized he did all that because he has a crush on you.

Childhood friend Satoru – who freaks out when you start wearing those short school-issued skirts – and can't keep his blush to himself when he notices you swap out training bras for pretty lace cups.

Childhood friend Satoru – who looks at you applying lipstick with wide blue eyes – thickly swallowing his own spit at the sight of gloss tinting the brim of your drink – hot and sweaty while imagining the stain on his cock.

Childhood friend Satoru – who has no sense of personal space regarding you – hugs you from behind when you’re talking to other friends, leaning his head atop yours – and slings his arm around your shoulders when walking home together.

Childhood friend Satoru – who invites himself into your plans and is utterly shocked and pouty when you tell him he can’t come because it’s a girl’s night.

Childhood friend Satoru – who doesn’t harbor any resentment toward anyone until he understands that there are people in the world who think he’s willing to share you with them.

Childhood friend Satoru – who decides he’s your boyfriend without even asking you – who watches you laugh at him when he tells you he doesn’t like when you speak to the boys in your class, looking at you with an opposing straight face you’ve never seen on him, before telling you that he doesn’t think it’s very funny.

Childhood friend Satoru – who you’ve known since you were both in diapers but who suddenly feels like a total stranger – who suddenly has this look in his eyes that gives you chills – and it’s not so much that you fear for yourself because you’re still very much certain he’d never hurt you, only you no longer feel confident in saying the same for others.

Childhood friend Satoru – who goes to the chief of your clan and asks for your hand behind your back – who tells you it’s a matter between them, between head clansmen, not silly girls who don't understand their own good.

Childhood friend Satoru – who has this completely blank look of apathy written across his face when you scream at him that he can’t just decide your life without consulting you – who only tells you that you promised yourself to him a long time ago, that you promised him that you’d stay together forever, that you’re not allowed to leave him now.

Childhood friend Satoru – who starts telling you what you can and can’t wear, who doesn’t allow you to go outside without him escorting you, who keeps you in the house and expects you to be happy about it – and pins you up against the wall when you uproar against it – glaring at you with a searing comet-blue stare that makes your heart jump to your throat in fear – gripping your upper arms in such a bruising hold he makes you wince, as he spits out that you’ll do what he tells you to do because you belong to him.

[okaywitheverything]

I just saw someone describe fucking sukuna as monster fucking, and they aren’t wrong, but it feels so…wrong?? Like sukuna feels so tame??

i couldn't think of a way to answer this without going into this way too hard and spiraled a little so uh.... have a presentation. i worked hard on it so i hope this helps.

[okaywitheverything]

tw/ hórny èx bf, tôngúè fückïng, orál sèx (fèm!rècíèvïng) ovèrstïmulúlátïôn, hè ís à crèèp, nôncôn, èxplïcït ând nsfw thèmès.

It’s hard to break up with someone like him because he doesn’t get the hint- it’s been barely 6 days and he finds himself right in front of your door.

Really horny. And quite frankly messed up.

He bangs on your door- at first he’s gentle, but then he finds himself losing his patience when you don’t open up after a few bangs at your door, even with the bell It’s not working.

He just might have to be a little bit more aggressive with it. See now, he doesn’t like being aggressive with you. He knows that you hate this side of him. That’s why you broke up with him in the first place.

It’s not really a break up to him though because you’re just trying to break and he thinks that this break has lasted way longer than it should have in the first place. So he takes deep breath, and he starts banging at it like a maniac.

“Yn! YN OPEN UP!” But you don’t. You’re really trying to test his patience and then you try to lecture him on his aggressive nature.

His pupils are dilated at this point, he’s feeling so crazy right now, it’s aching and his pants, and he has missed you like crazy-staring at your pictures is not enough anymore. Not at all.

It’s your fault, you know.

It’s your fault that you’re so beautiful and that you have his heart in your hands… he closes his eyes for a moment, and then he takes out the spare keys he had to your apartment-of course, you don’t know about them, but he had a locksmith make them for him.

Without any rational thinking- he unlocks your apartment with ease.

And soon the familiar scent of your home hits him and your ex boyfriend finds himself relaxing, his head feels a little better now. “Yn!~~~” he calls out your name with affection but you still don’t respond.

Weird.

So he decides to check if you’re home. He really hopes that you are because he needs to talk to you and… a lot of other other things.

First to fall of course it’s gonna be your bedroom, his feet, take him to the familiar room so easily, because he remembers every single room in your home, like the back of his hand.

And to his surprise? He hears the shower running. A Cheshire Cat smile spreads across his lips. But before he can think anything else, the shower drops sounds come to a halt.

Oh, so you must be done..

He waits- by sitting on your bed and waiting for you to come out, and he doesn’t have to wait long, so he unzips his pants, creepy? He doesn’t give a fuck.

He needs to fuck you and get you back. He has everything you ever want. Quite frankly, you can be ungrateful. Anyone would kill to be in your place… but too bad he wants you.

And there you are, in all your wet glory-with a towel loosely wrapped around your body, you gasp, expected, in surprised to see him, he smirks.

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to scream at him, he doesn’t mind you can because he’s missed your voice a lot.

“Hi baby.” He greets you. Licking his lips, because he feels himself getting harder when he stares at your soaked, freshly washed body.

You look so sexy like this I can’t help but remember all the times he would fuck you senselessly in the shower or sometimes when you were done with it.

You’re just so irresistible. You get him so horny for no reason at all. It’s your fault and now you’re going to have to help him out.

“W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” You finally say something to him, even though you’re screaming at him like a maniac, he doesn’t mind.

“I can’t help it baby you know I love you and I can’t live without you-and I’m so horny right now.” He licks his lips again, getting up from your bed to walk towards you.

He needs to touch you right now.

“I told you you couldn’t break up with me but you thought you could.. so I just wanted to give you a little break, but I think it has lasted enough now I need you back.” He groans. You smell so good even his muscles are pulsing.

His eyes are you like a predator and You should know that you cannot escape.

He is way too strong for you.

“Come on now- look at me? I’m so fucking hard because I was thinking about you- and look at you.. fuck…” he breathes out, taking you by your waist.. but then he gets another idea.

So instead of holding you, he drops to his knees.

This is gonna get you so weak for him.

“Let me eat your pussy. Missed it so much.” He looks into your eyes when he grabs your legs. You barely manage to hold onto your towel, which was about to fall. And something switches in your eyes.

You have missed him too.

He smiles. “I bet you missed me too. Fuck- baby let me have a taste please- I’m doing this to make it up to you. I know I pissed you off, so let me make it up.” He breathes, slowly, removing the towel and he starts to tease you by rubbing his hands over to your clit.

You whimper, you’ve always been so weak for him.

He knows you need him-equally as bad as he needs you. And he’s going to make you realize it tonight. He leans his face closer to your cunt, and you grab his wide shoulders for support.

“Oh look at you baby- you’ve already started to get wet.” He coos, pressing a kiss to your thigh, and then his kisses get closer to your heat, “f-fuck. You’re so fucking bad for this.” You moan out. He knows that you’re trying to reject him still even though he knows what your heart and body really want.

Him.

“I know yn.. but fuck- you’re my bad habit.” He replies before he takes one of his fingers out of your pussy and he smashes his mouth into it- his tongue starting to eat you out.

“Nghhh fuck.” You moan as he starts to tease you again with his teeth- he’s so messy right now, all sloppy as he pushes his tongue in deeper and deeper.

That’s how you like it.

His mind is in a frenzy because the noises you’re making are purely sinful- your towel gals to the ground and your back arches.

He won’t let you fall.

He will make you cum in his tongue.

“Ugh fuck..” he groans as he eagerly laps at your juices, you’re giving him so much.

And he knows you’re already going to cum.

“A-Agh fuck don’t stop- don’t fuckin stop.” You command him and grab on his locks- that arouses him anymore- you taste so fuckin good.

He can kill anyone for you.

“O-Oh fuck- baby cum on my tongue- you can do it.” He praises you- his hands on your ass as he squeezes it, you pull on his hair.

His teeth graze your clit.

“Should I fuckin bite? Since you’re so *pants* fuckin mean to me? Nah.. I love you..” he barely manages to speak because you’re suffocating him and you’re going to cum.

“You can *pants* only cum of you come back to *pants* m-me.”

BNHA- hawks, aizawa, bakugo, deku

JJK- gojo, geto, toji, sukuna

[okaywitheverything]

Title: Ferine.

Pairing: Yandere!Toji x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 4.1k.

TW: Hybrid AU, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Slight Manipulation, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Knotting, Mentions of Blood + Violence, Slight Breeding, and Biting.

Toji was, by far, the largest hybrid you’d ever taken care of.

Which, technically speaking, wasn’t that big of an accomplishment. This was barely your third month at the research facility, and you could count the number of hybrids you’d encountered before being hired here on a single hand. Still, even compared to the other wolves you currently looked after, Toji was beyond impressive. His long, pointed ears and stocky build set him well above six-foot, and even if he’d lacked height, he would’ve been able to make up for it with the planes of sculpted muscle circled around his biceps and thighs, laid over his chest and back. Top it all off with a set of claws each longer than your pointer finger and sharp enough to pierce reinforced steel, and he was practically fit for exhibit. Not that Toji could ever actually be a show dog, no – he’d tear the judges apart before they’d so much as heard his name. He was sweet, but he had a temper. You had to be careful not to set him off.

His fangs were impressive, too – perfectly in-tact despite years of less-than-adequate care, only a touch duller than a real wolf’s. You were careful not to let your hand stray from where it cupped his cheek as you looked for signs of damage or rot only to, of course, come up empty. The longer you spent with him, the more convinced you were that nothing could actually hurt Toji, even if the faded scar stitched into the corner of his mouth suggested otherwise.

“All done,” you started, letting go of his cheek. Immediately, Toji’s jaw snapped shut with enough strength to take off a finger, had you given him the chance. “Perfect as always, Toji. I think you might be my best patient.”

A cocky smile found its way to his lips, and you could hear his tail beating lazily against the dirt floor of his enclosure. The facility was committed to replicating the natural environments of their more exotic hybrids as closely as possible, even if Toji claimed he’d trade it all for a punching bag, or better yet, something ‘real’ to dig his teeth into, whatever that meant. “Do I get a treat, doc?”

It was asked playfully, but still, you hummed by way of confirmation, pulling your duffle bag into your lap and fishing Toji’s well-earned rewards – a generic chocolate bar and a can of some painfully acidic, sickeningly sweet brand of soda your hybrid patients couldn’t seem to get enough of. It was a meager prize, but it was as much as you were able to spare considering how strict his caretakers were when it came to his diet. You’d probably save yourself a few dirty looks if you didn’t give him anything at all, but it didn’t feel right to leave him empty-handed.

He accepted your humble offering greedily. While the chocolate bar was stowed away for later consumption, the can was pierced with a clawed thumb and emptied in one long, unpleasantly audible swig. You’d only started to push yourself to your feet when Tojj finished, letting the now empty can fall to the ground before turning his attention back to you. “It hurts my feelings, knowing you’re just gonna run off and put your hands on another animal.” His ear pressed flat against his scalp, as if he was trying (and failing) to feign disappointment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d start to think you didn’t really care about all the time we’ve spent together.”

“You’re not exactly in desperate need of medical attention,” you chided, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “And I’m on a schedule. Not all of us can sit around, grooming ourselves all day.”

That earned a breathy laugh, a coy lilt to his smile. “Well, if you wanted to take a shot at it, I wouldn’t—”

“Save it. I get enough of that with the cats.” Just thinking about it made you grimace. It was one thing to think that Toji might bite you. Knowing Satoru and Suguru – the bonded leopard and panther pair who shared a check-up date with Toji – would insist on licking any exposed skin raw before letting you do your job was a much more tangible reality. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. You’ll be good until then, right?”

“I’m gonna gut those fucking strays.” His answer was blunt, immediate, but he cracked as soon you shot him a purse-lipped frown. “Kidding, kidding. I’ll just rough ‘em up a little – make ‘em regret putting their paws on you, y’know?”

You couldn’t help but soften. Toji was rough around the edges, but he wasn’t a bad dog. He just had a protective streak and that, paired with his brash personality and tendency to bite before he barked, was enough for most people to write him off.

You really did have a long, long list of other appointments you had to get to before the end of the day, but against your better judgement, you paused as you passed him, reaching down to rake your fingers through sleek black hair. He was stoic, especially for a hybrid, but even his cool, dark eyes and wry smile couldn’t hide the way his tail moved just a little faster at the feeling of your nails raking over his scalp, his ears immediately perking up. It only took a second for him to bat your hand away, but you only laughed as you started towards the staff exit, waving to Toji over your shoulder.

Maybe, for his next check-up, you’d see if you could sneak in something special.

~

“Your mutt’s been unruly, lately.”

You glanced up from your clipboard, turning your full attention to Nanami and quickly finding that he hadn’t paid you the same courtesy. He was one of the senior researchers and, so far, the only one you could stand to be around for any longer than a few minutes. Since the higher-ups expected you to fill out your reports with one hand while you took a four-hundred-pound tiger’s temperature with the other, you tended to camp out in Nanami’s office when you had paperwork to file. “Toji?” Nanami nodded, and you rolled your eyes. “I’m just the vet, Kento. If his handlers aren’t doing their—”

“The problem isn’t his handlers, it’s him.”

His voice was flat, his tone icy. You laid your clipboard over your lap, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s an animal. It’d be more out of character if he didn’t lash out occasionally.”

Nanami opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. After a lengthy pause, he leaned back in his seat, bringing a hand to his temples and massaging absentmindedly. “Do you know why he hasn’t been released back into the wild, yet?”

Obviously. Working with hybrids – let alone exotic hybrids – was dangerous, and your debriefing had drilled the face, name, and background of every animal in the facility into your memory. “He was born in captivity. He’s too acclimated to human society to adjust to the wilderness.”

Nanami pressed his lips into a thin line – an expression you’d learned to read as ‘you’re right, but I’m not going to say that’. Still, a degree of satisfaction accompanied his silent confirmation. “He was found in a dog fighting ring – or, what was left of one, at least. It took three rounds of sedation and two broken muzzles before our recovery team was able to get him under control.”

A knot formed at the base of your throat. Fuck chocolate, Toji deserved a blanket and as many hugs as he would let you give him. “That’s terrible, Kento. Were the organizers arrested?”

“The organizers—” Nanami straightened. “—were found mauled and stuffed into a kennel. Their bodies were so thoroughly mutilated, we had to rely on blood samples to identify them.”

“Wolves aren’t known for attacking unprovoked. It could’ve been another—”

“One of his handlers is currently hospitalized,” Nanami went on, as if you hadn’t cut in. “And two have already turned in their resignations – a resounding fear for their welfare in the workplace, supposedly.”

Your eyes fell to the floor, and that knot in your throat tightened until only the barest whisper could find its way out. “He’s not a bad dog,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. “He just— He loses his temper, sometimes. He doesn’t mean to hurt anymore.”

“He’s never tried to hurt you?”

You didn’t have to think before shaking your head. “Never.”

That, of all things, seemed to catch Nanami’s attention. For the first time, his eyes flickered briefly to you before falling back to his desk, his paperwork. “Good,” he said, marking down something on a piece of scrap paper in front of him. If he felt the need to elaborate, he clearly didn’t deem it worth the effort.

Later that day, you were informed that you were being transferred to the reptile wing indefinitely. If you’d been there for a few more months, if you’d had a little more experience to throw around, if you’d had a little more authority, you might’ve protested, but it was all you could do to nod and set to memorizing your new schedule.

~

It took exactly three weeks for you to see Toji again.

One of his handlers – a woman in her early twenties sporting a pressed scowl and a gauze-padded bandage on her cheek – met you at the facility’s gates and flatly told you that Toji was injured. You’d never been in the facilities (much less with a hybrid) after sundown, and in the simulated wilderness of his enclosure, it was easy to forget that you were never more than twenty feet away from a security camera, that there was only one apex predator you had to be afraid of. After checking your usual meeting spot (clear spot near the center of his enclosure – neutral territory, safe territory) and finding it vacant, you reluctantly stumbled your way to his den, dragging your feet despite the urgency of the situation. Toji wouldn’t deliberately attack you, but any animal could react if provoked. You didn’t want to set him off. More importantly, you didn’t want to prove Nanami right.

You’d never ventured far enough to see his den, but you knew what to expect. A square shell of cement occupied the deepest corner of Toji’s enclosure, bracketed off by a metal door tucked inside of a deep entryway meant to give the illusion of privacy. You approached it slowly, stepping underneath the shadowed overhang with no small amount of caution, but you didn’t get the chance to knock before a hand manifested on your shoulder and shoved you against the cold steel.

Claws bit into to the dip of your shoulder, then your wrist, too, as he caught your hand and shoved it into the small of your back. You felt hot air on the nape of your neck, heard heavy panting laced with the barest trace of a throaty growl, and it took everything you had not to panic, not to struggle, not to give him a reason to dig his teeth into your neck and tear. Toji wasn’t a bad dog, but he was still a dog. He’d still bite, if given an excuse.

“Toji,” you started, slowly, taking care to soften each harsh syllable of his name. “I’m here to help you.”

He didn’t respond, his hold only tightening. His check pressed into your back, and there was a short, airy noise – sniffing, as little as you wanted to put a name to it. “Toji,” you repeated, with more urgency. “I heard you were hurt. Will you let me help you?”

A second passed in silence, then another. Finally, he pulled away from you, releasing your wrist first, then your shoulder. He remained where he was – a little too close, a little too looming – as you shuffled to face him, forcing yourself not to consciously acknowledge that you were in a very big cage with a very poorly behaved animal. His handlers hadn’t mentioned why they’d needed you, but you didn’t have to wonder for very long. Even in the pitch dark, you could see the dark blood covering his jaw, washed over his throat and chest. It was on his hands, too, coating the white bone of his claws, and matted into his dark hair. Your waning self-control faltered then shattered altogether, your hands shooting to his head, his face, searching for bruising or swelling or broken bones, but surprisingly, all your worry earned was an airy laugh. “It’s not mine, doc.” He laid a hand over yours. “I’m doin’ just fine. Even better, now that you’re here.”

But he wasn’t. Twin sets of puncture marks were littered across his throat, his face, his arms. Something had taken a chunk out of his left bicep, and five matching scratch marks had been etched deep into the skin of his chest. The wounds looked feline, but you couldn’t bring yourself to linger on the implications. “You’re hurt,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your hands fell to his shoulders, pushing him downward gently. “I— I’ve got bandages, and sutures—” You let your bag fall from your shoulder to your elbow, already reaching for the zipper. “Find somewhere to sit. We should get you cleaned up before something worse sets in.”

Panic was quickly overshadowing your better judgement, but Toji didn’t move, didn’t look away from you. He was still wearing that coy, sardonic grin – almost teasing, given your anxiety. “I already told you, I’m just fine.” His smile widened, until his pointed fangs caught in the dim light. “I didn’t think you’d actually come. They said I could ask for whatever I wanted, but—” He paused, sucked in a sharp breath. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Toji, you’re not making any sense. You need help.” Again, you pushed gently on his shoulders, and again, he didn’t seem to notice. This time, though, he shifted, leaned toward you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You scowled, shoving a little less gently on his chest, but Toji didn’t move. “Toji, please, just let me help—”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” You felt his hands on your waist, then your ass. His chest was slotted against yours, and his tongue ran unabashedly over the curve of your neck once, then twice before he went on. “Keep sayin’ my name like that, and I won’t be able to control myself.”

Something pressed into your thigh – hot and hard and, like the rest of Toji, fucking huge. Your heart fell into your stomach, the air flooding out of your lungs and leaving you dazed, breathless.

Fuck. Fuck.

You should’ve stuck with the fucking reptiles.

Toji was panting audibly, again; his tongue lapping over your neck, your cheek. You were still cursing yourself for ever applying for this shitty job in the first place when Toji fell to his knees, forcing your thighs onto his shoulders as his claws caught on the fabric of your pants, decimating the thin material in an instant. His teeth tore away your panties just as quickly, leaving you exposed, splayed out on a silver platter in front of him. You reacted reflectively – knotting your fingers in his hair and doing your best to pry him away from you, but your strength was nothing compared to his and in the end, all you earned was a throaty groan, a tight squeeze to your ass before he buried his face in your cunt. His teeth grazed against the tender insides of your thighs, his claws biting into your now-unprotected skin, but the feeling of his tongue laving over the length of your slit replaced every other sensation with pure heat.

Predictably, he was near animalistic – his thick tongue fucking into you as the bridge of his nose ground shamelessly into your clit. From a distance, it would’ve been hard to tell if he was trying to eat you out or eat you alive; every noise he made feral and wet, punctuated with rough growls and little, uncharacteristic whines. It would’ve been impossible not to feel anything, but still, you couldn’t help but hate yourself when it started to feel good. His tongue was thick and textured, long enough to fill your pussy and flexible enough to curl inside of you, abusing the walls of your cunt without mercy. It was difficult to tell how much of the gloss staining his chin and the inside of your thighs was his drool and how much of it was your arousal, but even if your mind was disgusted by every slick noise and sharp flick of his tongue, there was nothing your body could do to block out the sudden pang of heat in your core, to fight the way your legs ached to clench around his head and pull the source of your revulsion that much closer.

“To—Toji, no, st—” you tried to say, like you were scolding a normal dog, like any part of you still thought he was listening. A cracked moan cut you off prematurely, and even if it hadn’t, Toji’s only response was a bruising squeeze to your ass, a low moan just loud enough to reverberate against your sensitive clit. Blinding white flashed across your vision, and before you could stop, before you could bring yourself back from that edge, you were coming undone on his tongue, your hips bucking against his face as he nursed you through your mind-numbing climax. Rather than pull away, he forced his tongue that much deeper into your pussy – taking advantage of your hypersensitivity to drag another unwilling orgasm out of you, then another, until the dried blood smeared across his lips was tacky and dripping onto your skin. He only pulled away when your little, pained sounds began to die into half-choked pleas and your limited strength failed, leaning you limp and boneless on top of him, and even then, he took the time to drag his tongue over your slit, to lap up what would’ve been wasted slick. You would’ve given anything for him to just leave you like that – messy and covered in your own arousal, but unfortunately, Toji had never been a bad dog.

His gaze flitted up to meet yours. “Sorry, princess,” he muttered, when he saw the misery knitted into your expression. The broad grin he wore was anything but apologetic, though. “Might’ve gotten carried away after all. Can’t help it – you always come to me, smellin’ like other men, and nobody ever lets me do anything about it.” He nuzzled into the inside of your thigh, nipping at the tender flesh with just enough force to break the skin. There was a tight pinch, of bright spark of pain, but Toji tended to the minimal wound lovingly, running his tongue over the thin stream of blood. “Gonna have you nice n’ scented by the end of the night.” A sharp whimper slipped past your grit teeth as the points of his fangs grazed over your skin, and Toji sighed. “Gonna have you nice n’ bred, too, if you keep making those sounds.”

Bred. Bred. Bred. You turned the offensive word over in your mind, unable to grasp what it possibly could’ve meant, as Toji carefully lowered you onto the ground – never so much as toying with the idea of fucking you into anything other than the cold, raw earth. It wasn’t until his clawed hand fell to the hard, pulsing cock standing stiffly between his legs that you were able to fully process what he’d said, what he was threatening to do to you. Your thoughts went blank, your years of veterinary school and countless hours of animal-handling training and common sense all dissolving into total nonexistence in an instant. It didn’t matter that he was taller than you, stronger than you – you were already throwing your full weight against him, scratching at his chest with your blunt nails, doing everything in your so incredibly limited power just to get away from him. Your latest wave of resistance wasn’t enough to overwhelm him, but it earned a frustrated rumble at the base of his throat, a downward quirk to his cocky smile. Your nails caught one of the puncture marks on his cheek and, reflexively, he straightened his back, brought his hand to his face, left just enough space between your body and his for you to roll onto your chest and scramble desperately towards freedom. You’d barely gotten your knees underneath you when his hand lashed out, catching you by the collar and forcing your cheek into the soil. His chest pressed into your back, his legs caging yours in on either side, and worst of all, his cock throbbed against your ass – somehow, impossibly, harder than it’d been a few seconds ago. You might’ve jotted it down as an impressive display of canine resilience, if you hadn’t felt so desolated.

“Shoulda figured you wouldn’t make this easy on yourself.” His voice was rougher than it had been, but no less self-satisfied. That made sense. Wolves were endurance predators. He would’ve come into this expecting there to be a struggle. “I thought you’d be more of a mate than a bitch, but—” He paused, his mouth settling against the nape of your neck. “—either’s fine by me.”

You clenched your eyes shut. “Please, Toji, don’t do—”

But, it was already too late. He rutted your ass once, then twice, before his tip caught on the entrance to your abused pussy and he was inside of you, fully sheathed without a trace of resistance.

Toji was big, even for a hybrid. He was a hunter, tried and true, all muscle and agility and pure, unfaltering strength. Even with his generous (albeit, unwelcomed) prep, it was all you could do to convince yourself that his cock wouldn’t tear you apart. He was thick enough to press against every soft and sensitive spot inside of you, long enough to leave a tight knot of pressure sitting in the pit of your stomach, and when he started to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, the force alone was enough to scatter little black spots in the corner of your vision and leave you hazy, light-headed. The way he was fucking into you didn’t help anything, either. Keening whines slipped out of some deep, feral pocket of his chest as he took advantage of your vulnerable cunt, alternating between grinding into you with a desperate sort of clinginess and trying to bully his way that much deeper with bruising, brutal thrusts. One arm wrapped around your midriff, dragging you even close to him, while a groping hand found the delicate buttons of your top and tore, ridding you of what was left of your protection against him. He kneaded half-consciously at your chest as he fucked into you; his own pleasure suddenly his only priority.

His selfishness should’ve been a welcome change, but you were too far gone, your body too eager to find a silver lining to his rough affection. Your hands clawed mindlessly at the ground as he pumped into you, the heat of his body against yours clouding your senses and making the feeling of cock stretching you open, his dull head pounding against your cervix all the more unbearable. You doubted he’d be able to talk, even if he’d had anything left to say, but he was still vocal enough. Raspy groans and harsh grunts rung distantly in your ears, his calloused hands groping mercilessly at your chest, your stomach, your waist. Finally, his thumb found its way to your neglected clit, and with less than a full second of stimulation, you were buckling into yourself, clamping down around his cock with a fractured whimper. As humiliated as you were, Toji wasn’t far behind. With something between a moan and a howl, he was cumming inside of you – predictably making no attempt to pull out. Something hot and vile flooded into you, but it was hard to focus on that when you could feel something hard and bloated and wrong press into your entrance. Toji’s breath hitched as he forced his knot into your tight cunt, and whatever hope you had for coming out of this unscathed curled up and died inside of you.

You could feel him slacken on top of you. You almost thought he would collapse like that, leave you locked to him and trapped under his weight, but instead, he nuzzled against the crook of your neck, his fangs ghosting over your throat before sinking into the soft flesh just underneath your jugular. He stayed like that, his knot splitting open your pussy and his teeth buried in your neck, until you lost any hope of him ever pulling away.

Exhausted, you shut your eyes, sinking into yourself. You’d been right, in a way. Toji wasn’t a bad dog.

He was just a terrible terrible man.

[okaywitheverything]

Fast Learner.

Yuta Okkotsu x Reader

Request: Yuta being taught how all kinds of sex works by one of his old teachers?(basically, the reader is older than him by like ten or five years, but they are both legal age)

Warning: age gap. reader is 27 and Yuta is 19, inappropriate superior-student relationship, smoker!reader explicit NSFW. virgin!yuta, horny!yuta, unprotected sex, creampie, foreplay. fingering, oral sex female and male receiving, cum eating, light choking, face fucking, deepthroat, praising kink, dry humping, grinding, impregnation thoughts, sneaky sex, dominant!yuta (later), breeding kink.

WC: 3.8k words.

A/N: Till now I don't know if you meant teaching sex work as blowjobs, oral sex, positions and all or about sex work. I went with the first anyway. Hope y'all enjoy it tho. Like and reblog would be amazing. Requests are still open even if i take some time in making them, have patience with me lol

part 2.

Masterlist - Masterpost

Let's start with the fact that your relationship wasn't supposed to end up this way. You were his superior, kind of, Gojo was under Yaga, you were under Gojo and you had Yuta under you for a favor to Gojo.

The hierarchy was confusing, but you knew though that whatever was happening between you two was inappropriate.

The first time you saw him you were 26, you had been invited to the graduation into sorcerers for Maki's class, there you had seen him for the first time.

The prodigy child, the cursed child that Satoru had been pestering you about meeting, was not that much of a child anymore. When he introduced you two to one another you could appreciate the sweet eyes up close, his rosy lips and the warmth that he emanated with his entire persona despit the gloomy appearance.

You had initially brushed off the butterflies you had in your stomach when meeting the 18 year-old young man. It must have been the fact that you had not have male contact in a while for work and he was the first new man on sight that was in your parametres of attraction.

That feeling should have dissipated, disappeared and faded with time.

But the complete opposite happened.

Not long after the graduation, Yaga had assigned him under Gojo but as he had too much on his hands with the new young sorcerers and his own clan duties, he decided and notified that he would have passed him to you.

He had told you anyway that he was reliable and responsible, as a special grade he had the same if not more power and abilities than you so that would be ideal as none of you would slow the other down.

You started to pair up together, even in missions where you weren't supposed to have a partner and beside one or two you weren't supposed to. You simply enjoyed each other's company, you talked for hours and hours, he told you about his past, why he decided to follow Gojo and what were his plans for the future, and you did the same, telling him of your past, on your decision to become a sorcerer and your current non existent plans for the future.

You giggled like a high school girl that had a crush with him, often leaning and resting your head on his shoulder, his friendly hugs when a mission was done, whether it was a side-hug, a hug from behind with him inhaling your scent, and you feeling his warmth, his snuggling into your neck, whatever type of physical touch left you wanting more every time.

He had a way with his words that left you speechless more often than you'd like to admit. With compliments and deep talks, making you blush whenever and stay up all night to talk about something even trivial.

Being able to talk about him with everything and only finding understanding was amazing.

His genuine and honest way to say sweet things, talk about feelings, emotions and love was breathtaking for you. How he passed time telling you how love was the purest thing of all and how he'd treat his lover left you imagining how he would be if that lover was you.

Maybe the first line you both crossed was being in his room so late at night. Out of work hours you two shouldn't be together, you two shouldn't have much to talk about...

still you ended up sitting at the end of his bed, wearing his t-shirt to get out of your uniform, head against the wall with the window door open, your legs were across his lap with his hands caressing them up and down, you turned every puff you took of the cigarette in your hand.

As much as he said he was okay with smoke, you didn't want his room to smell of it and he endured it.

It was peaceful, midnight had passed and tomorrow would have been your day off, for both of you, maybe that's why you accepted his invitation here. That's why you let your guard down.

"The probability to send us both overseas is very slim, Okkotsu. They need at least one of us here." You laughed along, his proposals were definitely a bit dreamy.

"They got Gojo sensei here and all the students, believe me once we tell 'em that they could earn more by sending special grades overseas, they won't let you have time to pack." He said, patting your leg, you puffed out some smoke.

Taking in the smoke. "I'll trust you on your word." Puffing it out.

You looked outside for a few more seconds looking at the grey smoke disappearing into thin air. When you met eyes with him again, he was staring at you, so softly as if admiring your features. Your lips curving up in a bit of embarrassment and his following your lead.

He extended his fingers, your eyebrows furrowing before widening and shaking your head in refusal. "Oh come on, it will be fine."

You snorted at his puppy pleasing face, looking down at the cigarette in your fingers, patting on the top and letting the ash fall down before handing it to him with a sigh. "Don't inhale too much. Make sure to not let it out of the nose, that will burn a lot. It's okay if you cough, only normal."

Your fingers went through a few strands of his black hair, watching him as his face contorted at the inhaled bitter taste, patting your legs. Pulling away with a scrunched up face when he puffed out the smoke, you giggled as he pushed the cigarette back to you. "You did good for the first and last time."

Your lips touched the orange colored filter, taking one last inhale of the smoke before throwing it away out of the window. "How do you get used to it?" His hoarse voice was doing things to you, much that you didn't notice your hand on his chest.

"When you have more to think about than the taste, it's easier the first times. After that you get used to it." Your voice was soft and low, your mind had picked up a few memories from when you had started smoking, not a lot of pride for a 14 year-old.

You sighed after looking at him, closing your eyes, conflicted in the heat that was filling your entire body. You pushed your knees up close to your chest, hiding in them with a groan and he only kept smiling so cutely. "What's wrong?"

You peeked up at him, he leaned closer and closer, his finger gently pushing your hair out of the way. "Fuck..." You tried to stand up only for your wrist to get grabbed and pulled down, his hand cupping your face as your lips clashed and moved with one another.

The smacking echoed, his other hand guiding your waist down, sitting on his lap as the kiss continued with his tongue entering your mouth and moving with yours.

There was something about the messiness of the kiss, the shuddering, the tight grip and pulling... you knew what it was when you managed to moan. "O-kkotsu... wait." He kept kissing you down your neck.

"I'm sure, don't worry about it." He pulled away, those lust and love filled eyes were nothing more than a drug for you to keep going. "I will just- he kissed the palm of your hand- need some guidance, please."

Your lips found his again, fingers brushing through his hair roughly, gripping at roots to move him just the way the kiss could be better, his hands pulling you down against the growing bulge in his sweatpants.

Your hips started to willingly grind on him, his mouth faltering, whimpering and moaning at the action. Rolling up and down his lap, feeling his erection get bigger and bigger, till a hiss escaped his lips, the thightness had been too much. You felt the slight pain of his nails digging into your skin through the t-shirt, his flushed face was perfect along with his half lidded eyes.

At the sight you felt an urge in you, your legs trying to close back together to relieve the amount of lust you were pouring out.

His hands fell from your back and onto grabbing your ass, cupping it perfectly and moving your body as he wished. He pressed you down even more where your clit and folds fully slid against his cock through your clothes. "Ah... Y-Yuta..." His name was sweet honey to his ears, making him only pull you more into him, sending him over the edge.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-!" You muffled his moans and grunts as he came by kissing him. He held you tight in an embrace, his legs shaking a bit and you tried to push off the fact that you could feel his cum and your juices mixing together.

This had to be a one time thing, a spur of the moment thing.

But the fact you didn't cum was making it hard, you wanted to continue, it felt far from finishing, you wanted to feel him in you and have those lips on your body.

It could be a one night thing though, the night was still young for you two.

When his hold loosened around you, there was a look you both found in your eyes, silenced by the lips meeting once again. "Yuta, tonight I will teach you how to please a woman, how to please me... is that okay for tonight?"

"Please do." He was breathing heavily against your lips, your voices reduced to mere whispers. Only you should be allowed to see that look, you should but you probably wouldn't. You will take the most out of tonight.

You pulled away from him, guiding him to sit at the edge of the bed while you kneeled in front of him and between his legs. Seeing the patch of soaking cum on his pants was enough to make your pussy feel in complete heat. Your hand palmed it, feeling it hardening again underneath, the pants and boxers slipped off, meeting your prize.

He whimpered at your tight hold on him, feeling between a thousand emotions, as his hands gripped on the sheets beneath him.

You moaned as your hand started to stroke him slowly, your thumb playing with the tip, spreading around the precum as it fully hardened. He was of an impressive size, he had girth and a slight curve that would be amazing later on, he wasn't trimmed though, his hair matched black and thick.

A nervous chill passed through him as he waited for more, your inspection of him made him ask questions, was he too small? Was he too veiny? Was it because of the hair? He had not known that this would be the day he'd finally have you, there was no reason for him to do so, now he felt-

"Fuck-" He said as the warmth of your mouth engulfed him fully, your tongue playing with the tip, swirling around to taste him, purposefully tracing along the veins around his shaft while one hand stroke the parts you couldn't reach with your mouth.

Everything felt so right, your moans vibrated around him, you could feel the tensing of his legs and you saw the hold he had on the sheets, fighting the urge to fully push you down onto him, feel the back of your throat and see you choke on his cock, that was his recurrent fantasy, the one he jerked off to alone.

You continued to bob your head up and down, your hand abandoning his thigh to find his and guide it behind your head. "Not too harsh, gentle but rough." How could both coexist?

"How is this pleasing you?" He asked in heavy breaths, flushed and embarrassed. A grin taking over your face.

"This is very pleasing to me, seeing you like this, how I make you feel... never hide it from me, I want to hear you." Taking him back in your mouth, you also felt the slight burn of the pulling on your hair.

He moaned freely, calling your name a few times. pulling on your hair more, rubbing your scalp as well, he guided your mouth as if it was nothing but his cumdump, you moaned with him at the thought. The usual timid and sweet Yuta turning into this feral version that was guided by his lust.

He stood up, thrusting his hips into you rather than guiding your mouth, he fucked your mouth, pushing till he could feel the back of your throat, that sent him on edge but he was trying to keep himself straight. Your fingers were digging into his legs, opening your mouth wide and swirling your tongue as best as you could.

You wanted the warm seed, drink it down, feeling the taste of him.

But that wish was up when he pulled back from you, still hard and throbbing, leaning down to kiss the lips that tasted of him.

The kiss was probably the most erotic thing you've had experienced with someone.

The need, the hold around your neck, the full exchange made your thighs clench together, you felt empty as ever. "Can I fuck you?" A short question that had butterflies in your stomach as if it was the most romantic request.

The rest of your clothes went abandoned, thrown towards the door, over his desk and his katana. To his request you stayed down while he went on top, kissing one another while his cock laid on top of your stomach. "You're so perfect, so fucking beautiful..." He muttered against your lips, his hips grinding against yours.

His hand slipped down, passing your stomach, brushing against your throbbing clit, rubbing in between you wet folds till his fingers entered your soaking hole. "That's it, Yuta." Your hand went down to his. "Curl them, just like before, find th- ah!" You stopped as the tips of his fingers had hit right into your spot, a mischievous smile on his face. "Keep going, fuck-" Your fingers went to your clit wanting your orgasm to reach faster whiler your lips locked with his.

He pushed your hand away, pulling from the kiss and leaning down to your pussy as his fingers kept going. He planted a kiss right where your clit was, your teeth greeting in self-control. "I've had so many dreams about this moment." He licked from your entrance up to your clit, your hips trying to grind against his face. "I want you cum in my mouth, ho-"

"Keep fingering me, faster and deeper... like that... lick and suck right here." Two of your fingers parted your pussy, guiding him right above your clit, it was not a bad beginning. "Faster, Yuta, more tongue." But with a bit of advice, he learned fast. He planted you back down as you moved through the stimulation.

"A bit more, babe, I'm right there." You encouraged him filling his tongue faltering a bit as if tired. Your moans and your words made him continue even better, faster and pressuring more. "Shit, I'm going to cum, Yuta-!" He moaned on you sending you over the edge, his fingers felt the clenching around of your walls, he couldn't wait for his cock to feel that as well.

The flow of juice coming down was retained in his fingers as he made you ride all your high to the point where you had to push his head away, when he was sure the orgasm was done he went down swallowing every part of you.

He sat back up, licking the fingers up and down. His cock slapped against your clit, making you jump a little, he was still flushed, looking for you to say something. "Good job, babe, not all men can make a woman cum, but you did on your first try with some instructions." A kiss sealed your words, hunger on his side, satisfaction on yours.

"I want more, y/n." He muttered with a raspy voice. "I want to feel you around me." You leaned back down together.

"You have a condom?" His face broke a little at the question, he didn't and he didn't want it to be the reason to stop now. "Mhmm... that's no good, you should always have condoms when doing this."

You caressed his cheek, brushed through his hair, smiling at his sad look. "But since it's with me, we could do bareback." Your suggestion made his face lit up, you felt his cock twitch a little against you. "Only this time, only with me, okay?"

He nodded, leaning down to kiss you one time before taking himself in his hand and slap the pulsing head against your folds. A wet smack echoing in the room, he trembled a bit. "Take your time, Yuta." You whispered to him in comfort.

Lubricating himself a bit more he started to push in, his fingers dug into your flesh to keep himself from cumming right away at the tightness and warmth. When he filled you fully, he took a few seconds of break, stilling, feeling the walls clamp around him.

Ecstasy shot through him at the situation.

You were with him, he was having sex with you, every and all fantasies he had were becoming true, they were better than he imagined at all. He was even doing it raw, he could get you pregnant if he was lucky, that way you'd be bound to him for your life. He wanted to do that, he wanted you for a long time now.

He started to thrust, grunting at first, he picked up his pace, fast and deep, letting his hunger guide him till your fleshes were smacking together in a way that echoed through the room and accompanied the loud moans that escaped your mouth.

He was splitting you apart, his thrusts growing uncontrolled, as the bed moved with you, the creaking and the hitting of the headboard to the wall were obscene. But at the over sensitivity you felt from the earlier orgasm you didn't care, you just wanted him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Yuta, I'm close again, I'm close." You told him in desperation, he leaned down, your legs wrapping around his waist, his lips falling on yours as he held on the headboard to push as deep as he could.

"I'm going to cum." He breathed heavily. "Fuck- I'm going to cum in you." He ravished your collarbone and neck, while a hand on your part went to your clit, rubbing till you orgasmed, screaming his name, clamping down on him as he fucked you through your high.

A few seconds later after you he filled your womb with thick ropes of cum, both of you covered in a light veil of sweat, his room smelling like sex, and for Yuta... he couldn't have ever imagined to have a first time as perfect as this.

"Y/n, this was perfect, thank you." He leaned down kissing you all over and you couldn't help but smile. Holding him close to you for the rest of the night, reminding yourself this couldn't be more outside of this one time, it was wrong and even if he had initiated there was a power imbalance.

So you held him, as both of you fell asleep hugging each other.

Maybe you two weren't on the same page after all.

You had left his bed and room in the middle of dawn, to not be caught by the servants of his dorm nor by anyone else that could be up at early in the morning.

Nothing happened much when you two met each other again in front of Yaga for another mission , nothing happened during the mission as well, nothing happened when you were walking back, there was the normal conversation you were used to have, but it was as if last night had not happened at all.

You didn't know whether to feel relieved or hurt by it.

But as you returned to your dorm, not so alone, your clothes were scattered on the floor, your lips locked with his as he rutted back into you.

Your resolve was gone.

A couple of weeks passed by sneaking around, whenever you could the both of you would just pass that time onto each other, whether it was fucking or just passing time together, everything was far more intimate and comfortable.

He had the habit of tracing your curves or cupping your breasts, he had grown confident to barely wear clothes around you as well.

He had also gone beyond the things you taught him, he took the lead right after the second time, he had you beg underneath him but he still searched for your approval in everything he did, you couldn't help it, he was just so good for you.

But you wondered if it was simple infatuation or something that could blossom into a relationship... those questions came to a halt when it was informed to you that you were now authorized in overseas sorcerer's affairs, meaning what you and Yuta had discussed had just become true.

"You know, the moment they'll get to know about you, they'll want your head." Satoru commented as he walked next to you to the fence. It was true, Yuta was part of a clan, he was special so whatever association was to be decided by others not him, certainly not you as his former teacher, it was proably suggested someone of the Zen'in or Gojo or Kamo clan to strenghten the bloodline, not you. You were becoming an incovenience and if you didn't back off like always the elders would take matters into their hands.

"You think I don't know?" Smoke escaped from your lips, rolling your eyes at him. "He told me he did that request before we ever got involved that way."

"Do you believe him?"

"I do. " You said truthfully. "And you know, I will blame you for all of it, he wasn't supposed to be under my wing, I did it to do you a favor." You muttered, the smoke making you find some comfort outside of Yuta's arms.

"Ehhh... that's true. Never could have imagined my distant relative wanted to stuck his little dick into you."

"He's not little." He snorted, it was supposed to be a silent thought, you whined at his laughing. "Shut up. Just tell me what you wanted to say, I need to pack my things."

He sighed, hands in his pockets. "I mean, the kid is young, things can change just don't be hard on him, I'll try to cover up everything from here but I can't do more than that." He said seriously and you nodded in understanding. "And also when you come back for the holidays don't bring any mini-Yuta or mini-you." He just put his hands up at your glare. "I'm saying, if that's your dirty talk, it won't take long to come into fruition."

He was right to some extent, there wasn't a single time where Yuta had worn a condom nor indication that any of you two wanted him to, he came at least once in you every night with words that left little to nothing to the imagination, it was more of a breeding kink you both had and the fact you both looked to a future together that turned you on during sex.

"Goodbye, Satoru." You said flicking him off, throwing the cigarette away.

It was time to start packing because tomorrow Yuta and you would be traveling into a new life together as sorcerers partners for God knows how long. Just the two of you.

[okaywitheverything]

gojo's bride

𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - as part of the ryomen clan, your life revolves around organised crime. when your father tells you you're destined to marry naoya zen'in, you're left with little choice but to run.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - mafia au, violence, arranged marriage, guns, killing/shooting in one scene, you're on the run, bounty hunter toji, marriage

side characters: suguru, sukuna and toji

5.4k words

Throughout childhood, an image of marriage is painted by your family. A contract between soulmates; a display of love to a person. Notes of a traditional wedding decorated with chairs of close friends and relatives, smiles wide and eyes glassy. Or, maybe you were better suited to a romantic elopement followed by a getaway, littered with intimate moments before announcing yourself a wife. In the end, the outcome is the same, one drilled into you by your parents since a young age. Perhaps while innocent, you had indulged within the images of a princess-like gown and florals winding around an ornate staircase - though with age and your growing understanding of your father's business values, you'd understood this wasn't a day to look forward to. 

When those in your clan would mention a prospective husband, someone your father would pick by hand, your heart would race excitedly, hands grasping over your chest as you swooned in adoration. There had been a semblance of what you'd pictured your future husband to look like, though that had since dwindled. When hitting twenty, reality setting in that this was another thing you would not experience normally, you tried to push the idea away. To your family, you were a pawn, and your marriage would be nothing other than an advantage to them; because when born as a woman within the world of Japanese illegitimate business, there were more hurdles than most. Your life had been seemingly filled with one sacrifice after another, and marriage was looking to be the largest one yet. 

Which is why, a courthouse wedding planned only twelve hours prior hadn't been what you'd envisioned. Despite the loss of formality and tradition there had still been anxiousness bubbling within the pit of your stomach, hands clammy as you took hold of the man you'd barely known while reciting an unbreakable oath. Instead of a dress, you'd been in cargos and a long sleeved top, though Gojo had displayed a little more care over the ordeal - a crisp blue shirt and slacks, black lenses over his eyes an a Rolex on his wrist. He slid the ring over your finger, delivering vows that had meant very little to either of you, and you'd repeated the action moments later, heart racing when the officiant had announced that you were now bound by law. Geto and Sukuna signed the certificate, and the four of you left to return to the shitty apartment you'd been hiding within for the past week. A weight had been lifted, but a new one had only taken its place. 

"Now, the reason we're gathered here is due to an important announcement within the family." Your father spoke, lips curving upward into a smile as his eyes darted to your own. It had been obvious when your parents had requested your presence for dinner there had been an ulterior motive, with yourself being left alone unless there had been news, or you'd been in need of discipline. It had usually been the latter, with being in your twenties and having a powerful father while being rebellious to his rules, there had been frequent fall-outs. Though within the moment his cold stare met yours, you'd understood exactly what he'd been about to say. 

"I've picked a partner for my daughter, finally." Through his thin smile, jagged teeth had shown. "Next week, she'll become a Zen'in, and our clan will reap the benefits of being united with one of the top three." For such a disgusting statement, he spoke with confidence, watching through beady eyes as the chatter of close and distant family members erupted, though mostly from excitement.  "What?" The quiet protest fell between conversations of others, any further objections died on your tongue. He looked down at you, a vacant stare before continuing. Your gaze fluttered to your mother to ask for a semblance of empathy, yet you were met with the same ruthless eyes. 

"Naoya Zen'in, my future son in law, will aid in managing business, merging with his father's company." The name had rang alarm bells through your already cascading mind, oblivion on the horizon. Naoya, a bigger misogynist than any man within your clan, a person referred to as scum by anyone with half a brain. 

There had been an uncomfortable cough opposite you, your panicked gaze meeting the dark eyes of your cousin. He's raised a brow, placing serviette beside plate as his head tilted toward large wooden doors - the only exit from the dining hall. You took a moment to think, mouth agape and heart racing, before standing. A large push through your daze of emotion had been all it had taken to activate the flight response, leaving your seat to run toward your room.

Once your head had hit pillow, tears flooded through your eyes, face plush to soft sheets in order to drown out the sobs raking over your body. The Zen'ins had been one of three leading clans within the mafia, alongside Kamo and Gojo. Three lineages known to be the dirtiest of all, though due to honor had been treated as if royalty. You'd heard Sukuna speak of Naoya in passing, and his disgust with the man he'd only met in passing.

"Hey," Sukuna's voice filled the air between muffled cries, body shaking and breaths heavy as you'd turned to face the figure walking through the room. Shifting, you sat with your back against the headboard, a pillow in your lap as the mattress dipped to allow space to your only friend. "I'm so sorry-" Sukuna began, bringing a hand to his face and sighing. "This is bad."

The weight of the situation before you had grown heavier when your cousin had admitted his own alarm. Sukuna feared no one, and had taught you to follow him on the same path of callousness; jobs executed with little remorse or care. Your partnership had resembled siblings to outsiders in the sense that you'd been family no one would cross, even if Ryomen had been a relatively new name within this world. With the company founded by your grandfather, there had been just enough time to spread word of the name, though when comparing feats to that of Gojo or Kamo, Ryomen had appeared ant-sized. 

"I can't," You stuttered over words between labored breaths, a harsh squeeze over the pillow clutched within your grip, pressing into your stomach. "Sukuna, I really can't do this."  Brown eyes scanned over you once more, concern riddled within the pupils, down turned eyebrows creating a crease at his forehead. He hadn't seen you like this before; distraught, scared. Since childhood, the pair of you had pushed emotion from your psyche, swearing vow to be honest only with the other. Each of you had promised to be the only person to trust in the harsh world you'd been brought into. In adulthood, you'd met with him significantly less, and Sukuna had built a name for himself as the Ryomen with the dirtiest hands. Yet, the vow would not be broken.

"There's a place downtown," Sukuna's voice had been hushed, a sigh from his lips before continuing. "Tonight, we'll leave. You can stay until I find a way to get you out of this mess." The statements he'd spoken had been frantic as he'd tried to make sense of the visions in his head - if he would've simply been born with more intelligence, perhaps he'd have been better aid when you'd needed him most. 

"What's that going to do?" You laughed through helpless sobs, rolling eyes at the promise he'd made - though with trembling lips and fingernails scratching anxiously over the skin of your arm, your body had demonstrated the true terror within you.  "Dad's not going to cancel a deal halfway through, not with the Zen'ins." Reiterating your point, you tried to push him away from an ill-planed escape, however much you'd needed him to give his all.  "We'll figure this out, okay?" Tattooed fingers smoothed through his hair, dullness within his gaze as he watched over your deflated form.

It had been midnight when you'd left. With only a backpack for belongings, you'd stuffed it to the best of your ability before slipping through the bedroom window, prayers whispered as you'd absconded the building. Hopefully, your family would notice your disappearance after you'd left their surveillance lines. 

Sukuna had waited a block away, engine running as he'd awaited your presence in the passenger side. It hadn't taken much pleading before Suguru had agreed to house you, only having to hear the Zen'in name before allowing you to seek refuge, though he couldn't deny his concerns of being found even while in a safe house. After holding his breath while waiting for you, you'd finally emerged, slumping against the passenger seat. Sukuna had now been in control of your fate, shifting into drive. 

The journey hadn't been long, reaching the building within a half hour, though concern riddling your mind upon entry. A run down apartment block, ivy curving into single-pane windows to grow along the white-washed brick inside, cracked tiles beneath your feet left unwashed and elevator jolting upon movement. Your travels had been led mostly in silence, each remaining expressionless despite the mental hellfire you were wading through. 

Stopping at a wooden door, a brass 206 nailed into the middle of the wood, Sukuna had only had to knock once before it had opened. Stomach dropping, you stepped back, frantically looking to your cousin to voice your shock and betrayal when seeing the blue eyes behind the door. It hadn't made sense why Sukuna had brought you to a Gojo hideout - one of the leading clans alongside the Zen'ins. 

"Don't worry." The familiar brown eyes met your own, stern countenance and monotone voice as he'd placed a hand over your shoulder, a light push forward. "Satoru isn't like his family."  After Sukuna's reassurance, the Gojo had opened the door wider, stepping to the side to accommodate both you and your cousin as you passed through. The apartment's interior hadn't reflected the halls outside, being well decorated and clean. Following Sukuna through to the kitchen, you watched as he seated himself at the table, inked hand reaching to his pocket to fish out a carton of straights, pulling one from the pack and setting it to his lips. The amber of his lighter emerged after only one flick of the steel, lighting the end of the cigarette and taking a drag. 

"This is Gojo Satoru." Sukuna broke the silence, gesturing toward the white haired male you'd met with moments prior. The smoke drifting upward from the end of his cigarette wafted as he waved his hand, stopping as a painted nail pointed behind you. "That's Geto Suguru." Turning, you were met with a new face, though a name you'd recognised. 

Both males introduced had been tall, differing builds yet similar black ink etched into their skin. Satoru had been lanky, yet his height and demeanour gave an aura you hadn't often experienced, one of importance. Gojo's limbs had been decorated, though the most notable artwork had been the clan mark of Gojo: an eye on the right side of the neck. An immediate sign of strength for those who understood its meaning. Geto had been much broader, manner radiating from physical build rather than an intense aura. His physical strength had been clear. 

"Goes without saying that you can't leave the apartment." Sukuna's words had been low, eyes fixed to you with an intimidating stare. The heartfelt and honest personality he'd shared with you had switched when in the presence of others, Sukuna instead watching through an emotionless gaze as you reacted to his words. The instruction had been one that had your brow furrowing and arms crossing, though Geto had interrupted before you'd had the chance to counter.  "Naoya Zen'in is dangerous." Geto leaned back on a countertop, both hands supporting his weight as he continued. "Not because he's strong - it's because he's weak. People follow him only through fear." Geto shifted, eyes straying to the floor before meeting yours once more. "Naoya doesn't kill - he tortures, molests, creates hell for those who don't give him his way. Even then, he's too cowardly to do anything with his own hands." Suguru's statements had your blood running cold, a lump forming within your throat. 

"If he finds you, it's over." Sukuna continued from his friend, another puff of smoke passing his lips. He leaned back, usual stoic expression saddening you after the anomaly of sympathy he'd displayed earlier that evening.  "It's not just your life on the line right now; if they know we're involved, there's consequences-" One thing you'd despised throughout your life had been being treated as if a child, awfully long explanations from those who'd considered themselves smarter than you; almost always describing words of common sense.  "I know." Quick to interject, you'd stopped Geto's lecture, straightening yourself. "I'll stay here." You met your cousin's eyes as he stood from the chair, opening the window situated behind the sink to throw the smoked-cigarette through, closing it once discarded. 

Sukuna had departed shortly after, cautious as not to raise suspicion. Between his few visits, you would be on no-contact, careful not to expose your whereabouts to your own family, or any clan allied with them. After twenty hours, your parents had reported you missing, stomach churning when details of a bounty had been explained in grueling detail by Gojo. He'd sat through an uncomfortable conversation within his own clan's meeting, reciting the disdain from the Zen'ins when the topic of Ryomen had been brought up in passing. 

It had been three days before Sukuna had visited once more, tense body radiating nothing other than intense stress. He'd attempted to appear un-phased by the events surrounding you, but when seeing the tired eyes and hunched back, you'd understood he'd been suffering. He'd slumped down in the kitchen chair once again, lighting up a cigarette before beginning to formulate words. The actions had mirrored that of your first evening in confinement, a feeling of deja-vu as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. 

"They're getting restless." He spoke, deep voice much rougher due to lack of sleep and an increase in his smoking habit. Gojo sighed, taking a seat beside him. You fiddled with your thumbs above the table, helpless to the strains both you and your cousin had faced. "Sukuna." Speaking his name had caused his eyes to flicker up and land to your expression. "I don't think there's anything we can do." His stop-off at the apartment had been limited, agreeing between the four of you that his visits should not exceed ten minutes. His departure had grown closer with every passing second, but a conclusion had yet to be found. 

"We'll find something." His reassurance had fallen to your deaf ears, instead of bringing comfort, his statement had instead made you feel as if your concerns were brushed off. He'd began to slip away, leaving yourself seated at the table, still helpless to the world surrounding you. There was nothing you could do in the small apartment, even if you'd wanted to aid in finding a loophole, or a solution. 

The following morning had marked four days missing, in which you'd grown increasingly depressive and bored. The new roommates you'd gained had often left for jobs and abandoned you to your own devices - which had been daytime television and chores. Being on the run had meant you were unable to use a phone or computer, and being alone most of the time had eradicated the chance of passing time through conversation or games. 

On the odd occasion only one of the males had been home, there had been one you'd preferred to the other. Gojo's presence had felt much greater than Geto's (even if he'd been more annoying). Gojo had at least made attempts at conversations. When overcoming the sense of pity Gojo had displayed toward you, he'd been pleasant to talk with, speaking of shared interests such as movies and music. Gojo had been passionate, often becoming excitable when remembering certain scenes or moments within his favourite media - though he could become equally as shut-off. There was a darkness within Gojo you knew he'd held close, and when childlike wonder had worn off, there was a very different person beneath. 

Geto had been mostly silent, though you could feel the heavy judgement through his body language. His gaze had been heavy on your skin, eyes narrowing with each movement and shoulders tense. It had been clear Geto did not trust you, and had more reluctance toward befriending you than Gojo had. 

Bringing a damp garment to hang over metal pole, you threaded fabric through the bars of the indoor clothes-horse, hanging them to dry. Much of your time spent in the apartment when both men had been home had been within the kitchen, mostly as not to burden the others with your presence. Though as you grabbed another shirt to dry, you'd noticed a tall figure at the door. 

"Are you doing laundry?" Gojo questioned, shoulder pressed up to the frame as he watched your movements. You nodded, returning back to the task at hand. "My bag was small so I've run out of clean clothes." Exhaling, you drooped the cotton over, straightening out a few creases. He smirked, finally pushing himself from the wood to waltz toward the cupboard, pulling a bag of sweets from a shelf and tearing it open. Placing a hard-boiled candy between his lips, he gestured the bag toward you.  "Want one?" The query had been muffled and accompanied by a few clicks of the sweet against his teeth. You shook your head, a small smile as if to thank him before he'd shrugged and brought the bag back toward his chest. 

Instead of leaving, Gojo had seated himself at the table, the perfect view to the chore you'd been partaking within. His eyes had burned into you, yet you'd attempted to continue as usual, facing away from the blue eyes to push cotton over wire. But after hanging another garment, you sighed, head over shoulder to lock your gaze once more. 

"Am I entertaining you?" He hadn't replied until you'd finished, your body turned to face him fully, eyes locked onto yours as he shrugged, a crack of the candy between his molars.  "Never done it." He commented nonchalantly, picking another sweet from the bag. The rustling lasted a few seconds before he was back to eating, a dramatic exhale from his nose.  "That's cause you were a trust-fund baby." Walking toward him, your bare feet tapped against the tiled floor as you brought an arm upward, fingers outstretched and sight locked onto the bag within his hand. Just before you'd been able to dive a hand into the plastic, he moved it to the side, leaving your fingertips bare. 

"Feisty for someone who's living in my apartment." He commented, blue eyes narrowing as he watched you roll your eyes yet admit defeat through your gestures, instead flopping down on the chair beside him. You sat in silence for a few moments, eyes wondering to the window above the sink - the only window within the apartment that hadn't been covered by curtains and allowed some semblance of light to cascade through. Although you'd appreciated this, there had still been some annoyance to the reminder of the outside world, and how you'd been unable to step foot within it. 

The fifth day, you'd finally brought yourself the courage to ask. 

At the table during breakfast, the opportunity had arisen in which you had both men seated with you, coffee situated before each body.  "Can you bring me shopping today?" The request would likely be denied, a faint memory of Geto's obvious distrust and worry that you'd be seen and captured if stepping foot outside. But, you'd hoped that being on the outskirts of Tokyo, you were unlikely to be recognized, and with both men beside you, you'd be well-protected. Perhaps the idea had been completely idiotic, and when met with Geto's stern expression and furrowed brow, you'd understood the likelihood had been slim to none. 

"Well," Gojo had began first as expected, the less stern presence easing your anxiety. "We're meeting Sukuna first-"  "She's not coming." Geto had been quick to shoot the idea down before Gojo had allowed a semblance of hope to form. He stood, bending over the table to gather the plates from breakfast. As he leaned across, his shirt had lifted upward, revealing a handgun against his stomach that he'd had tucked into his trousers. You hadn't allowed your sight to linger too long on the weapon, though it had crossed your mind when pleading with him. "I'll keep my hood up, please Geto-san." You bowed your head, squeezing eyes closed while trying desperately to find an excuse. Swallowing back your pride, you continued. "I need tampons." 

You hadn't looked up until you were sure Geto's expression would have softened, though when returning your gaze upward, he'd been visibly taken aback, eyes wide and lips parted.  "Whaddya say Geto-san?" Gojo's added emphasis on the term had caused you to outwardly cringe, a reminder of one of the lower moments in your life.  "Be quick." Short and spiteful, yet the words you'd wanted to hear most. You'd fought to hide the growing grin across your face, undeniably shocked by the permission you'd been granted. Gojo laughed at the display, hand languidly laying itself upon your shoulder before giving you a light shove. "Get your coat, sweetheart." 

When approaching the pink haired Ryomen, you'd expected a foul expression, rant, or some form of physical punishment - yet instead he'd remained still, face unreadable. He'd been leaning against broken brick, cigarette in hand, pushing himself from the back-wall of some run-down establishment to stand upright. Seeing him like this had feared you more - Sukuna wasn't one to be lax over broken rules. There would be a significant reason he hadn't reacted to your presence. 

"She insisted-" Geto had began his defensive speech, though had stopped when Sukuna had raised a hand with the shake of his head. Holding the half smoked cigarette had been bloodied fingers, cuts decorating pale knuckles. "Probably better she's here for this." The words had your chest tightening, drop within your stomach when your gaze lingered over the wounded hand, being left to imagine the face that had been on the other side of his fist. "They've got a bounty on you. Saying we owe them money - the Zen'in's own you now." 

There hadn't been long to process his statement as he'd taken a step forward, another drag of his cigarette through stiff lips. "They've got Toji on her." 

Although you hadn't understood the weight of this comment, you could feel the men beside you tense, a quick glance toward Geto telling you all you'd needed to know. His skin had paled, and eyes widened. 

"Are you armed?" The question had added mass to your shoulders, a realization that your freedom had been coming to a close. Toji would have to be bad for all three men within your vicinity to be uncomfortable.

"Sukuna, we can't-" Eyes watering, you'd traced over the handgun tucked within your waistband, metal cooling trembling fingertips. "You can't do anything. This is it." 

Sukuna shook his head defensively, quick to begin a bitter reply and deter you from a path of righteousness. Though, the pop of a gunshot had taken stage before he'd had a chance to stutter more than a syllable, hands flying toward belt. Your fingers wrapped around the grip of the weapon you hadn't intended to use as you searched the alleyway for a body, adrenaline fueling your faster reaction time. Two men had stood at the entrance, the taller of the two aiming his own pistol in your direction. As he took steps toward you, the sunlight had hit his face, revealing a tilted smile, lips kissed by a thick scar. 

"Hands up, pretty girl." His voice had been rugged and deep, teeth bearing as he'd awaited your movement. You'd hesitated before raising both hands, persuaded only when his friend had taken a step forward, shotgun between his hands aimed toward Geto, who had been stood closest to the alley's entrance. 

"Toji. She's not armed." Sukuna's monotone voice didn't waver as he'd glanced at his allies. He'd hoped his lie would pass - you could sense his tension if the other's hadn't. "Ryomen. This your cousin?" Toji exhaled in amusement. "Been looking for her. Healthy bounty on your head, kid." His laughter had been entwined with malice, blood running cold as you'd met with green eyes. 

"You hate the Zen'ins. What changed?" Sukuna had asked, though had been shut down through Toji's quickfire response.  "Money's money. Hand her over, 'n we'll let you live." He'd used his left hand to usher you toward him, jagged smile increasing the panic you'd felt frozen by. 

Sukuna had withdrawn his own weapon, and Toji's expression soured at his movement. 

It had been a split second decision. 

You pulled your pistol from your jacket, aiming toward Toji's chest and pulling trigger. His eyes had widened in shock as he'd stumbled backward, wounded. It hadn't been fatal, though enough to stun him as your barrel aimed toward his partner.  His body had fallen backward much faster than Toji's had, a clear display of you accuracy. Before the black haired half had time to react, you'd ran, left hand instinctively grabbing hold of Sukuna's wrist. 

Only when Sukuna had slumped against the kitchen table, drops of blood dripping over the aged wood, had realized he'd been wounded. Your eyes set over the bullet hole in his bicep, a crimson patch darkening his jacket sleeve. 

"You were shot?" Your concern had been evident as the question had came to fruition through a concerned shout. He'd smiled in amusement, a gentle shake of head and pained laugh through chest.  "When you shoot someone who's aiming a gun, they'll pull the trigger." There was a tightness in his voice as Gojo had pulled his arm through the final layer of clothing, revealing the injury over skin. Geto had already placed a few items over the kitchen table, latex gloves stretched over hands after pushing his sleeves back, inspecting the wound. 

"Satoru, tourniquet." With Geto's voice quiet, Gojo disappeared for a brief few moments before re-emerging with a tie in hand, wrapping it over Sukuna's upper arm and pulling it tightly. "You're lucky that Zen'in had started to stumble before he shot, or you would've had Sukuna killed." 

"Zen'in?"  "He doesn't like the name, goes by Fushiguro. But, he's a Zen'in." Gojo explained while taking a seat at the table. Sukuna had leaved forward, wincing as a needle threaded through the wound.  "And, you're lucky there was an exit wound." Geto had added to the statement. "Though, your quick thinking likely saved one of us - so thanks, I guess." It had been obvious that the gratitude had pained him to say, though you'd accepted it anyway. 

"Do you think they'll find me soon?" You questioned, picking at the hem of your shirt as Geto finished the stitching. The fact you had little control over the outcome of both you life and your allies lives had irked you, a heaviness residing in your chest.  "It's likely they're already narrowing it down - Toji will tell them what he knows if they offer him enough money."  "You should just give me over, Sukuna. Get the money." A half joke, an attempt to lighten the mood. Though, when the tired, annoyed eyes had met your own, you'd realized the words had only hurt him more than intended. 

"What if you returned home with a husband?" Getou's abrupt inquiry had caught you off guard, but you considered the scenario nonetheless, fighting the urge to question why he'd asked, instead manifesting an educated answer.

"My father would have him killed." You spoke with a sourness, eyes remaining to cling to the floor. His attempts at a solution mirrored thoughts you'd had over the past week, though no fix had been found. The only options you'd had were to remain in hiding, or to accept your future as a Zen'in, benefiting everyone other than yourself. 

"What if you married someone they couldn't kill?" His suggestion left you dumbfounded, a muddled flurry of stutters as you'd exhibited your confusion to his ask. "Good luck finding someone powerful and willing to marry me." 

A person the Zen'ins couldn't touch would be a rarity within this world. Now your name had been made known to them, your place as a pawn in the Ryomen and the Zen'in's game, there had been an impossible chance of escape. You were raised purely for the benefit of your clan.

"I know someone." Geto's comment pulled you from your thoughts, another bought of self-deprecating laughter and rolling eyes shot toward him. There had been a glimmer of hope within your mind, yet you wouldn't display it to the men before you, instead residing back into refusal to protect your own ego. If you'd taken his words as banter, you would suffer less pain than to cling onto the premise of false-hope. 

"Satoru." Geto stated, gesturing to the pale, white haired and blue eyed friend beside him. Gojo's reaction had reflected your own; bewilderment. The brunette glanced between the two of you as you'd remained in mutual silence, awaiting his explanation.  "Satoru, think about it." Your eyes met Gojo's briefly before he'd returned his attention to his friend. "You'll be in her position soon - the strongest of you family and heir of Six Eyes; do you think your father will die before you give him a grandson to continue the business?" His theory had weight to it, but you brushed him off, watching Gojo's expression change from confusion to thought. "Geto, come on-" You began, voice gaining his attention. 

"I'll do it." Gojo spoke through upturned lips, both gazes returning to settle over his face. "I couldn't turn down the opportunity to mess with affairs that weren't mine to begin with - and fucking with my family is an added bonus." His playful grin paired with the prospect of being legally bound to him had sent heat through your body, mouth ajar while you'd lost yourself within the vision of a wedding day between yourself and Gojo Satoru.

"Gojo, this is serious." You began, narrowing your expression when looking into his own. "This is your future on the line." You took a sharp breath inward. "Not to mention, marrying me would mean having children down the line-" The rant had started, and Gojo had allowed a playful smirk to etch over his features.  "I'd be happy to fu-" His interruption was much to your distaste, the unwanted suggestion causing your stomach to churn.  "Use your brain for a minute and think about this as an adult!" The sudden outburst caused his eyes to widen before relaxing, mouth still curved upward as he leaned into the back of his chair.  "I've already decided, sweetheart. We'll go to the registry office tomorrow - Suguru and Sukuna can be our witnesses."

For a marriage planned with less than a day prior, it had been executed with ease. The four of you had been brought into a small room, a registrar stood to your left as you'd taken Gojo's hands within your own. As he'd held your fingers between his, a cheap ring Sukuna had sourced from a nearby jewelers slid over your finger, you'd swallowed back your anxieties and listened as he'd recited his vows. 

You'd repeated the action, his calloused hands maintaining the gentle contact between your own as you had spoken much more timidly than he had. Though you'd done so with some reluctance, you had looked into his eyes as you'd repeated after the registrar, a fluttering in chest. Even if this wasn't real, nor was it love, there was some form of excitement within your fear. Though, you wouldn't tell a soul. 

After only ten minutes, you'd left bound by law' a much larger meaning within your families than to yourselves. From this day forward, you were to be labelled as a Gojo. You had expected that crippling weight to ease as you held the wedding certificate in your palm, yet somehow, it had just changed into a new anxiety. 

You had gone against your parent's wishes, as had Satoru, and for that, you knew there would be a cost. 

reblogs and comments help creators more than just liking <3

a/n: after posting the teaser for this in MARCH, i have finally finished it!! i hope you enjoyed :,) i'm putting tags below, i'm so sorry if you forgot about this and are confused by the notif !!

tags: @ritsatoru @tomiokas-lunchbox @outrofenty @cherryblossiren @thisbicc @obitohno

[okaywitheverything]

my character ai bots:

bnha-

dabi: toxic bf , mafia au

denki kaminari: your a milf

eijiro kirishima: dying his hair

hanta sero: shotgunning w him

katsuki bakugou: he smells good , mean ass soulmate , ghostface katsuki , rivals to lovers , he’s bad w feelings , your pro hero fiancé , if you die so do i , girl dad

izuku midoriya: corrupting the religious boy

jjk-

gojo satoru: can’t get enough of him , vampire au , wardrobe malfunction , your affair , he’s annoying , his eyes r funny looking

geto suguru: dad’s best friend

nanami kento: healing your daddy issues

yu haibara: he’s gone , he’s sick , he admires his upperclassmen

yuji itadori: your parents hate him , best boyfriend , dorky best friend , he’s delulu , captain of the football team , gossiping w him , older brother’s best friend , you have a bf already but he loves you , your his mentor , shibuya arc

megumi fushiguro: step brother

yuta okkotsu: your a fan , welcoming the new boy , he likes when you pull his hair , he chose geto’s side that day , your best friend

haikyuu-

atsumu miya: your annoying neighbor , he’s drunk

iwaizumi hajime: scolding you after your ex did you dirty

kei tsukishima: he hates you(?)

kotaro bokuto: he’s spiderman , your his fan , emo mode

kenma kozume: streaming wars , cat hybrid , he hates you , he hates brats

hinata shoyo: healing your issues , he got sick , u get ur head hit w a ball

tetsuro kuroo: studying w him

koshi sugawara: he’s your son’s teacher , your coworker , he’s jealous

keiji akaashi: he loves feeding you , the pretty setter

yuu nishinoya: he’s drunk

demon slayer-

sanemi shinazugawa: training w him , your roommate

aot-

eren jeager: smoking weed w him

blue lock-

nagi seishiro: coke head

bachira meguru: you’re his therapist , pervert bachira

death note-

touta matsuda: he has a little crush , admiring his boss

csm-

denji: blood lust , walking home w him , mommy issues

sk8-

reki kyan: he’s a zombie

fairytail:

natsu dragneel: mating season

nanatsu no taizai [seven deadly sins]:

arthur pendragon: your his servant , you saved him , he saved you , your his holy knight

hxh:

kurapika kurta: your loyal to him , it’s only you and him

killua zoldyck: he’s your little brother

the disastrous life of saiki k:

kusuo saiki: he’s self aware , your ordinary

if you have any recommendations on more bots I can do lmk ! i’ll be adding a bunch more :x

[okaywitheverything]

TW: obsession, obsessive thoughts

fem reader

Thinking about when the playboy finally falls in love…

It’s so silly, soft as it may sound, untrue even given his record of sleeping around, but sometimes all he wants is pure unadulterated love. A hug once in a while would be nice – maybe a chaste kiss on his cheek – or cuddles.

You hadn’t believed a lick of it. You’d only laughed in his face with a shake of your head, telling him that must have been the worst pick-up play you’d ever been the victim of. 

It’s cliché, but he’s been obsessed with you ever since.

He feels like such a loser thinking about it – for real now – rolling his eyes with a hidden smile while looking at the candid picture he’d snapped of you. 

Chewing on this tongue while fantasizing such ridiculous things – virginal nothings such as handholding or resting his head in your lap and feeling you play with his hair. Sleeping together with your clothes on – spooning each other all clingy and soft...

Whispering sweet little nothings against the shell of his ear – teasing him. Playfighting – making you squeal and giggle as he grabs you and pins you beneath him in the bed. Tickling – making you laugh. Or kissing your nose and head and hand. 

Oh, and making breakfast together, eating lunch, and sharing dinner. 

Don't get him started on showering – helping each other wash – backrubs and headscrubs. How good your hands would feel carding through his hair as you rub in soap and rinse it out. Or just face masks. A whole evening in the bubble bath.

Watching some stupid romcom in fluffy bath robes afterward with your dopey tired head falling to rest on his shoulder. Snoring and mumbling small sweet little nothings to each other.

Saying good morning. Saying goodnight. Have a nice day. Good luck. I love you. I love you more. I love you most.

And there’s more.

Baby-names.

You haven't even gotten his dick wet once – he hasn’t even scored a kiss yet, and he’s already thinking about knocking you up and putting a ring on it.

You would look too good with his brat on your knee…

Bouncing them, breastfeeding, playing peek-a-boo games, zerbert, and doing the Simba from The Lion King – all with a great big beaming smile on your face. A smile that even the sun would envy.

Not to mention the kid itself. 

He would love the ever-living life out of a little baby version of you – pouty plump lips and mochi cheeks – spluttering and hiccupping on earth-shattering sobs when scuffing her dainty little knees on the pavement – asking for piggyback rides and candy before dinner.

Or a little miniature of him. Seeing you lull little devil-faced Junior to sleep.

Fuck it, you should get both. A truckload.

He’s shaken from his thoughts when his friend snaps his fingers.

“You’ve been staring at your phone forever. What’re you looking at that’s so important?”

He can’t believe how far down the rabbit hole he’d just spiraled. Thinking about a girl without picturing her naked. He must be losing it.

“… I’m not sure…”

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso, Denki

JJK – Gojo, Sukuna

HQ – Oikawa, Kuro, Bokuto, Miya twins, Suna

BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Rin

AOT – Eren

[okaywitheverything]

The Sun Eats the Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping, pregnancy kink(?))

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

WC: 9.4k

𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓

You wanted to quit the second you read the name. 

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place. 

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now. 

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client. 

"Is everything alright?" 

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke. 

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired." 

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited. 

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics. 

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention. 

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice. 

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps. 

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes. 

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face. 

Nothing. 

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next. 

"I look forward to working with all of you."                                     

𖤓

If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial. 

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order. 

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way. 

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too. 

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you. 

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?" 

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks." 

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours. 

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms. 

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching. 

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru. 

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch. 

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair. 

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines. 

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted. 

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class. 

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it. 

"What?" Because you must have misheard him. 

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official." 

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours. 

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop. 

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine. 

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore. 

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

𖤓

It was something minuscule. 

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always. 

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey. 

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her. 

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out." 

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life." 

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger. 

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru. 

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help. 

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that. 

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break. 

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing. 

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator. 

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!" 

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle. 

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you. 

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. 

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him. 

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that. 

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him. 

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back. 

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down. 

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it. 

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares. 

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything. 

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend. 

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg. 

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open. 

It's worse than anything you could think of. 

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you? 

This wasn't bullying. 

This was abuse. 

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired. 

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky. 

"Why?" 

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group. 

"Get lost." 

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone. 

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored. 

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-" 

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away. 

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?" 

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. 

"Anything, right?" 

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek. 

"Get on your knees." 

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little. 

"I-I-Gojo you-" 

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?" 

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru. 

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk. 

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him. 

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh. 

"Gojo I-" 

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems." 

You look down at the grass. Green, soft. 

"Satoru." 

His eyes flash in satisfaction. 

"Open up, pretty girl." 

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. 

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you. 

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought. 

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?" 

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame. 

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you. 

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth. 

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me." 

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world. 

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?" 

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it. 

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help. 

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath. 

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you." 

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum. 

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something." 

 You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him. 

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair. 

"My laptop...it's broken." 

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it. 

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you. 

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his. 

The sunset is pretty today. 

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied. 

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from. 

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?" 

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf. 

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait." 

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts. 

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her. 

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright. 

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting." 

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs. 

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way. 

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to. 

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go. 

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you. 

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable. 

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework. 

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips. 

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever. 

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom. 

"Thank-" 

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me." 

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself. 

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too. 

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him. 

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons. 

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?" 

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment. 

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken. 

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours. 

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now. 

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action. 

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone. 

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can. 

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch. 

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you." 

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock- 

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing. 

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you. 

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?" 

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again. 

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust. 

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper. 

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl." 

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar. 

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious. 

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him." 

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock. 

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch. 

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need. 

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt. 

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration. 

"I love you." 

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh. 

Fuck three weeks. 

You needed to get out, now. 

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there. 

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours. 

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out. 

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there. 

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room. 

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction. 

"You're off the clock, Fimo," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?" 

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke. 

The door shuts with a click. 

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward. 

You take one back. He puts his hands up. 

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?" 

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood. 

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody. 

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too. 

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes. 

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules." 

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked. 

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent. 

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless. 

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text." 

 His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake. 

You go to move. 

Satoru's faster. 

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment. 

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze. 

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness. 

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-" 

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt. 

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client. 

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him. 

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless. 

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears. 

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar." 

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words. 

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

 Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses. 

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now." 

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again. 

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic. 

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily. 

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?" 

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too. 

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall. 

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action. 

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar. 

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate. 

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate. 

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste. 

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits. 

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed. 

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out. 

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear. 

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?" 

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that. 

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you." 

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his. 

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure. 

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom. 

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught. 

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl." 

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-" 

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-" 

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled. 

"I'll make sure it takes this time too." 

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea. 

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb. 

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine. 

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness. 

"I love you." 

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran. 

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me." 

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given. 

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation. 

[okaywitheverything]

{✔} | Artist: @iamtheRice {twitter} | Posted with artist's permission | **Please do not repost or edit without permission, and do not remove source**