okaywitheverything

[okaywitheverything]

Who are your fav writers on here? Any fic recs?

okay buckle up because i have a lot of fic recs LMAO there's some that i'm not technically in the fandom as of now but i still thoroughly enjoyed the read.

most of my fav writers on tumblr are the ones i follow but i'll still list them cause im pretty sure my following is hidden lol (please go and support them as well!! they're all amazing i stg)

none of these are ordered on favoritism, i'm just listing them as i find them. plus i included brief descriptions in each fic i recommend lol, lmk if none of the links are working or if they are accidentally labeled wrong. THIS SHIT TOOK FOREVER TO FORMAT LMAO

i'll probably constantly update this whenever i read something good or when i find another great writer as well that i want to mention <3

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

LAST UPDATED: 12-08-2024

favorite writers

yandere-daydreams - love their fic imagines, multifandom and has original fics jackrrabbit - amazing multifandom writer, ik she hasn't updated in a hot min but her fics are so good seijorhi - multifandom, mainly haikyuu, jjk & tokyo revengers (though i'm personally not a fan of tokrev, i still want to acknowledge that she also writes for this fandom!) throwaway-yandere - their alhaitham fics are 🤌🤌, one of my favorite genshin writers and their art is so good! bunnykawa - she doesn't have much fics posted but she's another great haikyuu writer!! rocorambles - multifandom writer but i mostly indulge in their haikyuu fics remember-to-be-gentle - multifandom & original fic writer rotworld - original fic writer, love the amount of details and lore that they put into their writing

recommended fics

fanatic by jackrrabbit - oikawa x reader; oikawa using a devoted fan to relieve his stress (yandere/dark content)

clean by jackrrabbit - sakusa x reader; little shower session thinking about you (not dark content)

unprofessional by jackrrabbit - tendou x reader; training the new hire is more difficult than you thought, hm he's kinda familiar (yandere/dark content)

bloodlust by jackrrabbit - sanemi x reader; demon reader getting some action from the wind hashira (yandere/dark content)

canine by jackrrabbit - sesshomaru x reader; sesshomaru using the only alive geisha to forget about his issues (yandere/dark content)

a helping hand (or two) by hoe-imaginess - dabi x reader; dabi gets hit with an aphrodisiac quirk and has you take care of it (not dark content)

intertwined by yanlovex3 - hawks x reader; bully hawks being obsessed with you (yandere/dark content)

interchangeable by yanlovex3 - hawks x reader; a softer what if version to intertwined, had me falling to my knees fr (not dark content)

invidia by seijorhi - kuroo x reader; dilf kuroo being a little too interested in his son's gf (yandere/dark content)

outrunning fate by seijorhi - tendou x reader x ushijima; having two soulmates is controversial but they don't care (yandere/dark content)

rabid by seijorhi - kyoutani x reader; assumingly mafia au, kyoutani wants all of you (yandere/dark content)

hungry by bunnykawa - osamu x reader; you're the one obsessed with osamu but he's not taking it kindly or is he? (yandere/dark content)

i'm better than you! by bunnykawa - oikawa x reader; ex oikawa proving a point that he's better than your current bf (yandere/dark content)

delusional fool by solarisensun - bokuto x reader; bokuto has a big ol crush that you don't reciprocate but that's okay, he'll change your mind (yandere/dark content)

good boy by solarisensun - kageyama x reader; though you're his owner, kageyama more or less owns you (yandere/dark content)

house of cards by ddarker-dreams - albedo x reader; being a researcher yourself means you seek out others for their guidance, shame that this exchange only results in you being bred (yandere/dark content)

sweet dreams by ddarker-dreams - xiao x reader; a little sleepy indulgence doesn't hurt, right? (yandere/dark content)

crystalline heart by ddarker-dreams - scaramouche x reader; respect should be given to the harbingers but why should you respect him? (yandere/dark content)

consequence series by archonanqi - zhongli x reader; you wanted to leave teyvat as you had finally found your brother but a little contract said otherwise, ONE OF MY TOP FAVS ITS SO DAMN GOOD (yandere/dark content)

hatefully yours by merakiui - saramouche x reader; a little hate-f*cking session (yandere/dark content)

what is love? by rocorambles - gojo x reader; you're the apple of his eye, doesn't matter if you're taken (yandere/dark content)

selkie by rotworld - oc x reader; this particular selkie wants you to take his pelt so he can belong to you forever (yandere/dark content)

see you again soon by remember-to-be-gentle - toji x reader; finding a werewolf fighting ring is the juiciest story you got but meeting with the ring's top fighter for insight is better (yandere/dark content)

twice bitten by remember-to-be-gentle - miguel o'hara x reader; being bitten by a radioactive spider wasn't in your plans, neither was getting chased by the scariest spiderperson you've met (yandere/dark content)

why? by toxicbiimbo - kaeya x reader; murders are happening around the city and you put it on yourself as a knight to investigate the crimes, not knowing that the very killer was closer than you expected (yandere/dark content)

loving you keeps me alive by j0succ - dainsleif x reader; the home you bought has a permanent guest but he doesn't mind you at all (yandere/dark content)

customer satisfaction by wttcsms - oikawa x reader; giving beverages to golfers pays strangely well (yandere/dark content)

his new wife series by prelovednikaidou - toji x reader; being toji's new wife and megumi's step-mom is a tiring cycle, I LITERALLY WAS BAWLING OVER THIS LIKE FULL ON SOBBING IVE NEVER BEEN SO DEVASTATED OVER A SHORT SERIES (not dark content)

don't say it's unholy by dollwritearchives - reiner x reader; he'd do anything for you despite how much you hate his eldian blood (yandere/dark content)

the tiniest notion by titan-fodder - reiner x reader; reiner's new step-mom turned into his biggest comfort (not yandere/dark content)

marine blue by iwaasfairy - iwaizumi x reader; a strange creature comes up to you from the ocean (yandere/dark content)

subject raptor by tainted-wine - hawks x reader; becoming close to one of the first hero-turned-nomus was something you never thought was possible in your line of work (yandere/dark content)

bon appetite by theblanketofugly - sukuna x reader; sukuna figures out what he feels towards you, even if he's your biggest bully (yandere/dark content)

not your baby by itoshifc - oliver x reader; omega x omega, oliver intentionally fucking with the reader to make her his, i've never seen or anything abt blue lock but i ATE this up (yandere/dark content)

just friends series by kneelingshadowsalome - könig wants you and you don't know if you could reciprocate his feelings back like that... or can you? (yandere/dark content)

all that glitters by blindmagdalena - homelander x reader; being the sacrificial lamb for the draconic god is not easy, but how else were you going to bring an end to the bloodshed? (yandere/dark content)

my babysitter turned into a dog?! by gojo-mochi - kenjaku x reader; you were supposed to watch little yuuji, but ended up meeting his father instead (yandere/dark content)

#wanna play psycho killer? by screampied - toji x reader; ghostface notices that you like the get-up a little too much (not yandere/dark content)

#the party and the afterparty by screampied - geto x reader; your stripper for the night is kinda hot (not yandere/dark content)

#rent-a-dilf! by screampied - toji x reader; playing a silly little game until the character actually comes to life (not yandere/dark content)

the tiger and his milk! by sukunasweetheart - sukuna x reader; your tiger hybrid neighbor wants a little taste of your milk (not yandere/dark content)

[okaywitheverything]

He Loves Loving You

Before you, his sex life were mainly hookups that always involved her facing away. He did not care at all about eye contact or passion it was just a way to help himself relieve stress.

But then he met you and now all he wants is to make you feel good and loved. He likes having you in the missionary position where he can look at your beautiful features and see how good he can make you feel. Soft little kisses here and there, sometimes your foreheads would touch, you had a way of making his soft self come out. Thats not to say he's lost touch with his rough persona, sometimes he fucks you in the most heinous positions and at rough speeds, but there's love that's what changed. There's always love in your intimate encounters.

And you always feel so good. Fuck you drive him nuts. He doesn't know what the hell he did to deserve this but with you its like heaven on earth. He loves loving you.

Nanami Kento, Gojo Saturo, Toji Fushiguro, Dabi, Bakugou Katsuki, Eren Yeager, Tooru Oikawa, Kuroo Tetsuro, Rin Itoshi, Sae Itoshi, Shouei Barou, Shuji Hanma, Mikey, Baji Keisuke, Tetta Kisaki, Frederick Arthur

[okaywitheverything]

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. **warnings are not exhaustive** Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn't belong until she finally runs into her "new" brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she's ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

Also posted on Ao3 notes: this fic is completely written. It is unbeta'd (if you wanna join as one, lmk lol). I'll be posting as it's edited. I hope you enjoy it because I sure as hell did.

Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 1 1 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19 / Chapter 20 / Chapter 21 / Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25 / Chapter 26 / Chapter 27 / Chapter 28 / Chapter 29 / Chapter 30 / Chapter 31 / Chapter 32 / Chapter 33 / Chapter 34 / Chapter 35 / Chapter 36 / Chapter 37 / Chapter 38 / Chapter 39 / Chapter 40 / Chapter 41 / Chapter 42 / Chapter 43 / Chapter 44 / Chapter 45 / Chapter 46 / Chapter 47 / Chapter 48 / Chapter 49 / Chapter 50 / Chapter 51 / Chapter 52 / Chapter 53 / Chapter 54 / Chapter 55 / Chapter 56 / Chapter 57

everything tag: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse  @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

@themaradwrites @kingsmakers @thatmagickjuju @awkwardchick87

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties

[okaywitheverything]

Saudade - Chapter 2

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. unbeta’d **warnings are not exhaustive** Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn’t belong until she finally runs into her “new” brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she’s ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

notes: One of my favourite scenes is in this chapter. I feel like this is a proper introduction to who Takara is. I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think.

also on ao3

fic masterlist - prev chapter

She regrets her choices. Mainly for the sheer fact that in her attempt to avoid being in the house she lives at with parents who aren’t hers, she goes rollerblading again. And it’s pouring.

She tucks herself under an awning and waits for it to stop. 

Takemichi found her again after she had gone home from meeting his friends. It was cute to see him be a little jealous about the fact that they apparently kept talking about her rollerblading and the way she showed off a bit. She understands now why her brothers would keep teasing her. It is fun. Still, Takemichi left for his date with Hinata in high spirits that the future was secure even if he wouldn’t explain why. He was going to have some fun before going back to where he belonged. 

She wonders what that means for her. 

🐈‍⬛

It’s still raining, but Takara paces under the awning. She can’t stay here anymore. She moves without thinking. It’s both harder and easier to rollerblade in the rain. It’s slippery and far easier to miss something and fall, but it also reminds her of being on the ice. She’s just grateful she has on elbow and knee pads in case she wipes out. 

She’s moving down an alley that is usually empty and connects the park to some of the streets, including the way she takes to get home. It’s not vacant this time. 

The group of similarly dressed boys up ahead are facing and talking to someone. Even in the rain, she easily hears Takemichi’s voice. Hears the threat that’s given in return. 

She builds up speed. There’s no real way to do this quietly so she has to be fast. She tucks herself in and low, bracing herself before slamming her body into the one leading the pack. She knows how to shove her elbow into the tender spot under his ribs and throw him off balance. 

He goes flying into the others and she skids to a stop. Thankfully without falling. 

She stands there, panting under the street light as she faces the people who are trying to hurt Takemichi. “Well, what do we have here?” she asks, pretending like her whole body isn’t thrumming under her skin. 

“Takara? Get out of here!” 

“Nah,” she says. “What type of sister would I be if I just ran off while you got hurt?” They both know she’s not his sister, not really. But that doesn’t matter. He’s the only one here who she can talk to. She’s not about to let him get fucked up when she can help. 

Sure, it’s nothing like roughhousing with her older brothers or getting a bit vicious in a game, but she’ll manage. 

“Look boys,” one of the herd talks. “A girl’s their rescue.”  They all laugh, ignoring the fact that she’s already knocked one of them on the ass. 

“Aww, look,” she calls back out. “Isn’t it cute that you’re trying to impress your boyfriends?” That erases all amusement from their faces. Boys. Always the same. 

“I’m going to make this bitch cry,” he snarls back. She’s heard better insults from her team. 

“Not if I make you cry first.” 

🐈‍⬛

Later, after Takemichi and Draken add in their shit talk and her brother’s friends show up to help, she stays true to her word. She slams one of her feet down, throwing her weight into the rollerblade. She’s pretty sure from the way he screams that she broke something. She knows for certain she did from the way she slams her padded elbow into his nose after that. 

Tears spring to his eyes and before she can gloat about being right, he’s dragged off by his friends at the sound of sirens. 

Hinata and Emma are running with the paramedic for them.

“We gotta tell Mikey!” Takemichi says. 

“Where is he?” Hinata asks as Emma gets the hospital details from the paramedic. 

Takara listens to both before nodding. “You guys go. I’ll tell them. I’ll get there faster than you running anyway.”

“Be careful!” Emma says. “They were fighting.”

“Sure,” she promises. The rain hasn’t stopped but it’s fine. She’s still fast and it’ll do both boys good to have someone they trust there with them. She’s not that person. 

Takara nearly wipes out when she skids to a stop, eyes widening at the sight before her. There are bodies filling the parking lot, but the boys in black seem victorious. It takes a little more maneuvering to get around them as she looks for Mikey. She’s only met the guy once. 

“Hey!” someone calls out to her. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

To be fair, she does look out of place. Still, she has a mission and she doesn’t know him, so she ignores it and continues looking. She finds Mikey talking to a giant. She knows she shouldn’t interrupt but her news is far more important than whatever posturing is happening there. 

It takes her longer than she’d like to weave around the bodies and she mentally wishes she wasn’t wearing her wheels so she could jump over some of them. Instead, her blades clack when she uses them to step and she uses someone’s shoulder to help her twist around them. She rolls to a stop next to Mikey, interrupting whatever the giant is saying. She ignores him. 

The tall one seems confused to see her though, like she’s an unknown variable. Whatever. She’s been getting that a lot recently. She waits until he drives off on the back of someone’s motorcycle before speaking. “Hey, my brother sent me.” 

That gets Mikey’s attention. He’s shorter than her like this when she’s wearing her rollerblades, but it doesn’t feel like it. “Takemitchy?”

“Yeah. Draken and him are on their way to the hospital.” 

“Hey! Mikey, who is this?” A few of the boys in black run up to them. She’s surprised they didn’t get there faster but they look rough and at least one of them is stumbling.  

Mikey doesn’t respond. Once she gives him the name of the hospital, he runs to his bike and takes off. 

“What the fuck did you say to him?” One of them asks, long black hair plastered to his face. 

“I told him which hospital Draken’s at.”  

“What?” 

It takes her a second to explain what she rolled into earlier and before she knows it, two of the men are taking off and she’s left with a bunch of strangers. Not her ideal situation. She glances around for the best exit.

“You’re Takemitchy’s sister?” The long-haired one from before asks. 

“Last I checked. Hanagaki Takara.” 

His eyes narrow and she’s aware of the way he looks her up and down. Her outfit is plastered to her because of the rain. 

“I’m Baji Keisuke. Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “I’ll find my own way home.”

He frowns slightly. “Home? I thought you’d want to be at the hospital. Didn’t you say your brother was injured?” 

“Oh, yeah, but I don’t have shoes. I have to go home anyway. I wouldn’t be allowed in the hospital skating through leaving water and mud in my tracks.” 

“Well, I’ll drive. Get you both places faster.” 

“Can I even ride with rollerblades on?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we? Hurry up!” 

“Okay okay!”

🐈‍⬛

Baji is entertaining. 

He has a sharp grin and while he’s impatient about waiting for her, he still waits. She holds on tightly as he speeds to the hospital. It’s the first time she’s ever been on a motorcycle and despite being scared, it’s exhilarating. The speed alone makes it worth it. If the roads weren’t wet, she probably would ask him to go faster. 

He pulls up alongside a bunch of the others dressed in the same black outfit he is. She doesn’t recognize any of them but she thanks him for the ride and heads inside. She has to ask for directions a couple of times before she finds them. The group is quiet and they all look surprised to see her. 

Takemichi comes over to her first. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking in on you,” she says, looking up at him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” he lifts up his hand which is wrapped up. “I got stabbed but they said it was clean and there wasn’t much they could do outside of stitching it.” 

“You got stabbed?” She takes his hand and looks it over, as if she can see through the bandages.

Takemichi rubs the back of his head, looking embarrassed. “Yeah.”

“I should have stomped on his face,” she scowls as he says it. 

“You did enough,” Takemichi says. He hugs her again and she’s tempted to shove him off of her. It feels smothering, but more importantly, it doesn’t. She’s confused about the contrast and how easy it is to slip into this life. 

She’s saved from answering as she’s introduced to the others she doesn’t know. The two other boys in black, both taller than her and Takemichi, greet her softly. Mitsuya and Peh-yan both thank her for relaying the information about Draken quickly. Mikey, she sees, is sitting quietly on one of the seats. He smiles when he catches her looking. 

Hinata and Emma both quickly commandeer her attention, letting the boys talk quietly on the other side. She’s never really been good with female friendships, at least ones with people who weren’t into the same things she is, but she finds it’s easy to listen to the two of them. The more they talk, the more she learns. 

Emma takes the chance to fill Takara in on what she says are the important details. It’s mainly about her age, what school she goes to and the massive crush she has on Draken. Not that Takara can blame her, the boy is attractive. She’s surprised though that Emma is younger than even Hinata. Not by much, but she carries herself in a different way like she’s older. 

Neither of them seems to mind that Takara is quiet. She doesn’t really have anything to say, especially as they talk about school or Takemichi’s fight. When they discover that she’s recently sixteen, Emma offers to introduce her to someone cute. 

The last thing Takara needs is a relationship, but she recognizes the need for a distraction and the look Hinata gives her and allows Emma to tell her about the other friends of Mikey’s that she knows. 

Takara is half asleep, sitting on the bench with her head back against the wall when the doctor comes out. It’s not the most comfortable place to sleep, but it’s better than some of the team buses she’s been on. Still, she wakes up and falls off the bench when her brother scares the shit out of her by screaming. She stops herself from cursing when she sees just how happy and relieved everyone is. 

She rubs her eyes and yawns, moving out of the way so they can hug each other. It’s late and she’s too used to early mornings to be doing this. She follows them out of the hospital, still half asleep. She’s not entirely paying attention, hooking a hand into the back of Takemichi’s shirt and letting him pull her along. It saves her from needing to focus. 

She lets go once they're outside. The air wakes her up a bit and she’s surprised to see how many people are waiting for them. The boys in black all stayed, waiting for news of Draken. It’s like a team, she realizes. A family, in their own chaotic and bloody way. Almost like her team back home. It’s pretty impressive and she can’t help but smile as they cheer at the news. 

Then Takemichi runs past her. 

🐈‍⬛

Takara doesn’t even think. She just follows. In the few days she’s been here, she’s come to the conclusion that Takamichi attracts trouble like melted candy attracts ants. Thankfully, this is not one of those times. She comes to a stop next to him, looking at what’s caught his attention. Mikey is leaning against the wall, slipping down to the ground and crying. Takemichi doesn’t move. 

Instead, he pulls her back, hiding around the corner. Takara looks at Takemichi and thinks of the boy crying in relief that his friend is okay. She nods towards the corner where Mikey is. Takemichi’s eyes widen and he shakes his head quickly. She’s spent too long around boys and men who seem to think emotions are weaknesses. 

She rolls her eyes and moves. Takemichi grabs for her but she darts out of his reach and sticks her tongue out at him before turning her attention to the one crying. 

She’s aware that he’s hiding for a reason, that he probably doesn’t want anyone to see him like this, but Takara tends to act without thinking sometimes. She walks slowly, enough that she won’t surprise him with her approach. He wipes his eyes quickly before looking up, frowning at the sight of her. She kneels down in front of him. 

“Hey,” she says softly. 

“What are you doing here?” He demands more than asks. 

“Could ask you the same. Are you okay?” He doesn’t answer but he also doesn’t tell her to fuck off and that’s enough permission for her. She moves to sit down next to him, on the side that faces the pathway they found him by and leaves enough space so she’s not touching him. “I wouldn’t be,” she says. She keeps her voice soft. “I’ve always hated hospitals. They smell like death to me.”

That catches his attention. 

“I had to go in once when I was little. I scraped myself up pretty badly, got cut from someone’s skate on my calf. It was an accident but it scared the shit out of everyone. Blood was everywhere. It was gross and they rushed me to this hospital so I could get stitches. My brother thought I was going to die because they couldn’t be in the room. It didn’t help that the last time we saw my grandmother earlier that month she had died in the hospital.” She doesn’t look at him as she tells him the story. She can feel his attention and she’s not entirely sure if it’s helping, but at least it’s a distraction.  

“I got out and my brother just burst into tears when he saw the bandage. I made fun of him for it,” though it was because he was a couple of years older and she rarely had anything she could hold over him. She didn’t realize how much he thought her leg would have to be cut off. “My mother stopped me. She said that our tears were an outlet, that we couldn’t hold all of our emotions in and that it was a way of telling others that we were hurt or scared or that we cared for them. It’s a way of calling for help from those you trust around you.” Her throat tightens at the reminder. She’s alone in this except for her new brother who’s hiding. She wonders if he’s listening as well. “From the moment we’re born, we cry to communicate. Some days we’re the ones reaching out, other days we’re reaching back. It’s a balance but you can’t only be one. Apparently, it’s not healthy,” she adds dryly. She looks at him and leans over to nudge him gently. “Don’t feel ashamed that you care about your friend, Mikey. I’m sure he’d be grateful to know it.” 

She gets up and brushes herself off. “It’s past midnight. You should go home and get some sleep or at least take your sister home. Draken’s not going anywhere for a while. Come back in the morning and maybe he’ll be up. Good night.”

She leaves him there, pausing only to grab Takemichi and drag him away. She’s too tired for this shit. 

tag list: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse  @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

@themaradwrites @kingsmakers @thatmagickjuju @awkwardchick87 

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties @reiners-milkbiddies

saudade tag: @thisbicc

[okaywitheverything]

: ̗̀➛ satoru gojo x reader // like ghosts in the snow // chapter five pt II

╰┈➤ what goes up, or whatever they say..｡.:*♡

: ̗̀➛ Words: 5.0k : ̗̀➛ TW: pregnancy tests and lots of mentions, nausea/possible emetophobia triggers, light angst, jealousy, breakups

⇘ previous chapter⇙ •┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈• ⇘  story timeline ⇙

⌦ Tokyo, Japan | March, 2015..｡.:*♡

Days, weeks, a month passed by in a blur. Council meetings, calls from the higher ups interrupting your workday, stifled moans behind closed doors as strong hands gripped and pulled at you desperately. Your life was certainly interesting, and the rhythm you’d fallen into with Satoru was a confusing addition. It felt like the sweetest poison. It coated your tongue and throat with nectar, but left behind a trail of dread as it traveled down to your stomach.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

⌦ Tokyo, Japan | April, 2015..｡.:*♡

Two months now-- gone. Exhaustion clung to you like a second skin, dragging your every step as you crossed the empty corridors of Jujutsu High. The echo of your boots barely registered, your mind clouded with overlapping thoughts and tension. You had been summoned for a meeting this morning, one that you positively could not miss, or so an advisor had assured you.

Your stomach churned—a queasiness gnawing at your gut. Skipped meals and sleepless nights, you told yourself. You couldn’t keep anything down lately, pushing yourself harder than usual, chasing fragments of cursed energy and twisting whispers of fate into something coherent for those who demanded answers.

Headaches had plagued you for weeks now, blooming into a relentless pressure behind your eyes. It swelled alongside your technique, sometimes so intense you feared that you may faint.

The signs were becoming harder to dismiss. The nausea, the overwhelming fatigue, the strange taste in your mouth that never seemed to fade... Something deeper was wrong. Something you couldn’t yet name.

Around you, Council members discussed their favorite topic of the week: what are the three big clans up to? It had been on their minds, especially with the youngest Zenin and Kamo sorcerers beginning their terms at Jujutsu High within the coming years. You tried to focus, to latch onto their words, but your mind kept drifting, the strange heaviness in your body pulling you inward. Closing you off.

You caught snippets— mentions of alliances, lingering disputes, family squabbles— nothing concrete. It wasn’t until the tail end of one of the many voices sounding off that their words pierced through your haze.

“…And with the Gojo clan’s recent announcement of Satoru’s engagement, we can likely assume that new heirs will follow…”

Your breath caught and you struggled not to choke on your own saliva. The world around you sharpened into painful clarity. The councilman’s words echoed in your mind, sharp and cutting, as though the speaker had driven them straight into your chest and impaled you with them. Engagement. Satoru’s engagement.

You blinked rapidly, your pulse thundering in your ears as the room seemed to tilt around you. For a moment, you were sure that you’d misheard. But the murmurs of agreement around the chamber confirmed your fears— the Gojo clan sought to secure its future through its most powerful member. Satoru Gojo was getting married.

And he hadn’t told you.

The nausea twisted violently in your stomach, and you weren’t sure if it was from the strain of your body or the sudden weight of the news you now carried. Your grip tightened on the folder in your hands, your knuckles white as you fought to keep your expression neutral.

Someone else was speaking now, their voice low and clipped, discussing the implications for the balance of power. You couldn’t make out the details. All you could hear was the echo of those two words. Engagement. Satoru’s engagement.

“…Myoji?”

A voice, louder than the rest, cut through the fog of your mind and pulled your attention back to the room. All eyes were on you now, the Council members staring expectantly. You blinked, your mouth dry as you scrambled to remember what had been asked of you, to piece together the threads of conversation that you hadn’t really been listening to.

“The implications,” the voice clarified, impatient as ever. “What do you see?”

“Oh, yes,” you started, your voice soft but gaining strength. “I see… the balance of power continuing to shift. Slowly. Deliberately. But not without conflict.”

Your response was vague at best—you knew that. The Council seemed to pity you, however, quickly moving on around you. Please let this end soon, you prayed, letting out a slow breath and trying to pull yourself together.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The meeting adjourned with its usual drone of formalities and farewells. You barely registered the words, your feet moving on autopilot as you stepped into the hallway. The cool air did nothing to ease the grueling sickness in your stomach.

“Satoru’s engagement… new heirs will follow…” The phrase looped relentlessly in your mind, digging in like a splinter. You gripped the wall for balance, shallow gasps breaking through the haze of panic rising in your chest.

Would he? The unbidden thought sent bile surging up your throat. Unsteady steps carried you to the restroom, where you barely made it to the sink before gagging, your body trembling as it emptied what little you had in your stomach.

The sound echoed in the small space, mingling with the hum of overhead lights. Cold water splashed on your face, but it couldn’t wash away the pale, haunted reflection staring back at you in the mirror. Your hands trembled against the porcelain, knuckles white as questions swirled in your mind.

Why didn’t I see this? You were the Oracle, prized for your ability to see the future, yet this had slipped past you. The trust you’d placed in Satoru stung now. Despite your defenses, he always had a way of making you feel… safe.

The thought of him tightened your chest painfully, his piercing blue eyes and infuriating grin filling your mind. Had he known? The possibility gnawed at you.

A sharp knock jolted you from your thoughts. "Myoji-san?" A hesitant voice—one of the first years. "Are you all right?"

You straightened, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I’m fine," you managed, voice steadier than you expected. "I’ll be out in a moment."

The footsteps faded, and you exhaled shakily, loosening your grip on the sink. Falling apart here wasn’t an option. But the weight of the meeting, of Satoru’s name tied to someone else’s future, pressed down on you like a vice.

Why didn’t he tell me?

You pressed your lips together. Whatever the answer, you’d find out soon enough. Satoru Gojo owed you that much.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Looking back, you’d ignored the signs. Things with Satoru had shifted—less caution, more reckless. The pull between you had grown stronger, impossible to resist. When you were together, nothing else mattered.

You’d convinced yourself it was fine. Your technique had always been your safety net, guiding you through every risk. But this time, there was nothing—no whispers, no warnings. Just… silence.

You took that silence as a reprieve, a break from the weight of constant consequences. You never imagined it meant you were walking into a storm unprepared.

But now, with your churning stomach and the ache of exhaustion pulling at you, you couldn’t help but wonder if your technique hadn’t been silent after all—if it had simply allowed you to make your choice, to walk the path it already knew you’d take.

The thought lingered in the back of your mind as you carried on with your day, feeling as if your body were made of lead. Every step felt heavier, every word spoken to you sounded distant, muffled by the storm raging quietly inside you. You told yourself to push it down, to bury it for now. You had responsibilities. The Council. The students. There was no time to dwell on what might be.

“Satoru. Engagement. New heirs.”

And yet, you should have known the day wouldn’t let you avoid him. Fate had always been cruel like that.

The moment you turned the corner, your heart sank. There he was, strolling down the hallway with his usual careless ease, his white hair catching the light with every step. He was mid-conversation with Ijichi, but the moment his eyes landed on you, he stopped, his grin widening as if he’d been waiting all day for this moment.

“Shi-chan!” Satoru called out, waving like the sight of you could brighten his entire day.

You froze. Your breath caught in your throat, and there was no escape. Not here, not with him staring at you with that infuriating mix of teasing and warmth that you hated how much you missed.

Fate had always been cruel. And now, locking eyes with him, you realized how cruel it could be.

He waved Ijichi off with a casual flick of his hand and closed the distance between you in long, unhurried strides. Your posture stiffened, and you knew he’d notice. Could he see the tension in your shoulders? The faint tremble in your hands?

More than that, could he sense it? Your cursed energy was frayed, spilling through the cracks of your composure like sand. You knew he could read it as easily as the air around him. Would he say anything? Would he press?

“Satoru,” you said, forcing the word out, your mouth dry and voice rough. Another wave of nausea rolled through you, and you fought a grimace. You swallowed it down, keeping your eyes locked on him as he stopped in front of you.

He tilted his head, his grin maddeningly casual. “Shi-chan,” he said, his voice warm, like nothing had changed. Like everything was fine.

But it wasn’t. You couldn’t muster a smile. For the first time, you felt like you didn’t know the man standing in front of you. Or maybe you never had.

You didn’t know the warmth in his grin, or the way his blue eyes sparked with quiet amusement, as intimately as you once believed. Or maybe you’d never really known him at all.

His eyes flicked over you, perceptive as always, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he waved a hand lazily in front of your face. “You okay there?” he teased lightly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Your nails bit into your palms as you fought to steady your voice. “I’m fine,” you replied, though the words felt hollow.

His grin faltered, just barely. For a moment, the silence between you felt unbearable, heavy with all the things you couldn’t say.

He didn’t call out your lie. He rarely did, knowing when you were hiding something but letting you keep it buried. Instead, he got straight to the point, bluntness softened by charm. “I’ve got a break in about an hour,” he said casually, as though he hadn’t just cornered you in a hallway.

“Satoru. Engagement. New heirs.”

“Maybe sooner, if something urgent comes up.” His eyes sparkled with a familiar playfulness, the kind that told you exactly what he had in mind. A lazy afternoon in his office, maybe, or a walk through the grounds where no one would bother you. He’d slip his arm around your waist, tug you closer, make you laugh the way he always did.

You’d have jumped at the opportunity any other day. Hell, you’d have jumped at it if he’d asked you three hours ago. But now, standing here, seeing him in front of you, hearing his voice… hurt.

It hurt in ways you hadn’t expected.

You realized then, with a clarity that took your breath away, that what the Council had let slip wasn’t something you were ever supposed to know. It was a secret. A carefully constructed, deliberate omission. One that Satoru had no intention of sharing with you.

And that hurt more than anything else.

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry, the sickness from earlier threatening to resurface. “I can’t,” you said, your voice quieter than you’d intended. You averted your eyes, fixing them on the wooden floor. “I’ve got too much on my plate today.”

Satoru tilted his head, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “Really?” he asked, his tone light, but the teasing edge had softened. “Too much for me, huh?”

You nodded stiffly in confirmation. “Yeah. Too much for you.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until he finally stepped back with a lazy shrug. “All right, Shi-chan. Rain check?”

The smile he gave you didn’t reach his eyes. And for once, you didn’t feel guilty for letting it linger unanswered.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You went home early that day. You didn’t care if Satoru found out. You didn’t care if anyone found out. The nausea had become unbearable, your stomach twisting with every step as though your body was rebelling against the weight of your own thoughts. Your phone buzzed incessantly in your bag, executives firing off email after email demanding predictions, timelines, answers. You silenced it without a second glance.

It wasn’t like you to take sick leave, and you knew word would spread quickly—Myoji Shiori, the Council’s prized Oracle, walking out mid-shift.

Was it horrible that part of you wanted it to? That you wanted someone to see the cracks in your composure, to wonder if you’d been pushed too far?

Your first stop wasn’t home. It wasn’t the quiet solace of your favorite corner of the city. It was a shadowy little shop squeezed between a crumbling pachinko parlor and an izakaya with faded lanterns, far from the orderly streets surrounding the school. The sign overhead flickered erratically, half the kanji obscured by grime, and the dingy interior smelled faintly of mildew and old cardboard. The buzz of fluorescent lights overhead mixed with the muffled sounds of drunken laughter filtering in from the street outside, making the place feel both suffocating and strangely anonymous. It was exactly what you needed—somewhere no one would think to find you.

You weaved between rows of brightly colored labels and neatly stacked boxes. The section you were looking for wasn’t hard to find, tucked near the shelves of feminine hygiene products, as if hoping to go unnoticed. When you stopped in front of it, your chest tightened.

The shelves were lined with choices—digital, early detection, two-pack, five-pack, bold promises of “99% accuracy” printed in crisp Japanese characters. Your fingers hovered uncertainly before you finally reached out, plucking one box off the shelf. Then another. And another. Soon, your arms were full, trembling under the weight of flimsy cardboard packaging that somehow felt heavier than anything you’d ever carried.

Ten. You’d grabbed ten, your mind too clouded to think about whether that was too much or not enough. Each box seemed to scream at you with its branding, demanding answers you weren’t sure you were ready to face. The packaging looked familiar enough, even if the brands weren’t, but the uniform neatness of the display made the moment feel oddly clinical.

You glanced around, your gaze flicking to the nearby aisles. The store clerk at the counter was busy scanning a customer’s items, their attention elsewhere, but the thought of being seen still made your stomach twist. You dumped the tests into your basket in a rush, the motion awkward and frantic, as though speed might somehow make the moment less real. The weight of the basket in your hand felt impossibly heavy, each step toward the register adding to the tightness in your chest.

The automatic doors slid open with a hiss as you stepped out into the cool afternoon air. The neon lights from nearby signs flickered against the wet pavement, and the faint scent of rain lingered in the air. You clutched the bag tighter, letting the distant hum of traffic drown out your thoughts as you headed toward the nearest train station, the test burning in your pocket like a question you couldn’t ignore.

You’d taken a step. A tiny, terrifying step toward an answer. But the question loomed larger than ever: Did you even want to know?

When you tried to use your technique, it was like grasping at smoke.

Your chest tightened as you tried again and again, each fruitless attempt making your head spin faster, faster. The threads flickered before you, weaving in and out of sight, but each time you reached for them, they slipped away. They felt tangled, obscured, as if they were deliberately hiding from you.

You opened your eyes, your breath uneven. Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was the fatigue that had been weighing you down for weeks now, stealing your focus and muddling your thoughts. Or maybe… maybe your technique wasn’t meant for this.

The thought hit you harder than you expected, a sharp pang of frustration and fear twisting in your chest. You’d relied on your clairvoyance for so long, trusted it to guide you, to protect you from mistakes. And now, when you needed it most, it was silent.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you reached your apartment, you bolted the door behind you. Your fingers moving on autopilot as you activated a barrier—a simple but effective wall of cursed energy that ensured no one, not even Satoru, could cross without your permission. It was obvious, he would see it from miles away, but at least he couldn’t sneak up on you.

You leaned back against the door, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breathing. You couldn’t let him see you like this. Not yet. Not until you knew for sure.

The thin boxes rustled faintly in your bag, a reminder of the decision you’d made, the answers you needed.

Before you could confront him, before you could even think about it, you had to know. This wasn’t about him. Not yet.

This was about you. About the fragile, terrifying truth that might be waiting just beneath the surface.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You took all ten tests.

When the first one came back positive, you froze. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur. It wasn’t real—it couldn’t be real. Your shaking hands reached for another test, fumbling with the flimsy packaging as your pulse pounded in your ears. You told yourself it was a mistake, a fluke. The test was wrong. It had to be.

But the second one came back the same.

And the third.

By the fourth, your legs were weak, and you sank onto the cold bathroom floor, the edges of the tile pressing into your skin as you opened another box. Your hands trembled so badly that the cheap plastic nearly slipped through your shaking fingers, and you struggled to steady it, whispering under your breath, Please, no. Please, just let this one be negative.

The minutes stretched endlessly as you stared at the sink, where the first three sat like silent witnesses. The fourth joined them, its result stark and undeniable.

Positive. Always positive.

You kept going. Five. Six. Seven. Each one delivered the same verdict, and each time, your chest tightened a little more. By the eighth, tears blurred your vision, and you struggled to read the result through the haze.

You finally stopped at number ten, your hands falling limply to your sides as the final proof stared back at you. A jumble of pink and blue lines, tiny plastic windows blinking Pregnant, sat in a messy pile on the sink.

Your breath came in shallow, shaky gasps as you stared at them, your mind racing through an endless reel of questions you couldn’t answer. How had this happened? You’d been careful… No—you hadn’t. Not with him. Not with Satoru. Careful had never been part of what you shared with him.

Your head pounded as emotions swirled inside you, one crashing into the next before you could even name them. Disbelief, sharp and cold, settled first. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

But it was.

Dread came next, clawing its way up your throat, twisting your stomach into knots. This would change everything. Your life, your work, the fragile balance you’d fought so hard to maintain.

Then there was anger. At him, at yourself, at the universe for letting this happen. For taking something so complicated, so fragile, and making it even harder to hold together.

And beneath it all, buried deep, was something softer. Something you didn’t want to name but couldn’t ignore. Joy. It was faint, like the first light of morning, but it was there, warming the edges of your fear and leaving you breathless in its wake.

You pressed your hands against your knees, trying to steady the trembling in your body as you stared at the pile of tests. Ten. Ten confirmations of the truth you couldn’t escape.

You were pregnant.

And nothing in your life would ever be the same.

Your phone buzzed angrily in your pocket, the vibration slicing through the suffocating stillness of the bathroom like a knife. It startled you, dragging your focus away from the pile of pregnancy tests scattered on the sink—the undeniable, irrefutable truth staring back at you.

You fumbled for your phone, heart dropping as you glanced at the screen.

Satoru.

For a moment, you hesitated, frozen as his name glared at you, demanding your attention. Then, with trembling fingers, you hit decline, the sound of it cutting off abruptly.

You sagged back against the wall, your breaths shallow and uneven. But the relief was short-lived.

The phone buzzed again, his name lighting up the screen almost immediately. The audacity of it made your jaw clench. You declined again, but the vibrations resumed before you could even lower the phone. He wasn’t giving up. Of course, he wasn’t.

Your hands shook as you stared at the device, your thoughts spiraling. Why now? Did he sense something? Did he know? Or was this just another one of his perfectly-timed interruptions, the kind that always left you teetering on the edge of losing control?

You started to lower your guard when it vibrated again—a text this time.

Shi-chan, I’m outside.

Your breath hitched.

You opened the message, your thumb trembling as you read the next line:

Answer your phone, or I’m coming in. Barrier or not.

The weight of those words crashed over you, your chest tightening as you reread them. The threat wasn’t empty. You knew him well enough to understand that. If he was outside, he wouldn’t wait much longer.

Your fingers curled tightly around the phone, and for a moment, you debated letting him try. Let him destroy the barrier, let him walk into this mess you hadn’t asked for, let him see what you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

Five minutes, Shi-chan. Then I’m coming in. And I’d hate to piss off your neighbors.

You groaned, pressing the phone against your forehead as your legs threatened to give out beneath you. Of course, he wouldn’t leave it alone. Satoru Gojo didn’t leave anything alone.

You shoved the tests back into the bag, your hands shaking as you crammed the jumble of plastic sticks and cardboard boxes beneath the sink. The cabinet door banged shut with a hollow sound that seemed to echo in the cramped bathroom. You leaned against it for a moment, closing your eyes and drawing in a long, shuddering breath.

Keep it to yourself, you told yourself firmly. For now.

The weight of the decision settled uneasily on your chest, but you pushed it down. This thing—whatever it was—you couldn’t face it yet. And you couldn’t face him with it, either. Not now.

But something was becoming increasingly clear to you. “Satoru. Engagement. New heirs.”

Your hands found the edges of the sink as you pulled yourself to your feet. You dried your face on a hand towel, forcing your eyes up to meet your own reflection. They were still red, still puffy, but clear enough to hold resolve.

This thing we have together needs to stop.

The thought echoed louder than you’d expected, sharper this time. It wasn’t just about the Council or the rumors of his engagement. It wasn’t even about the weight of the tests hidden beneath the sink. It was about everything that had led to this moment—the tangled mess of your feelings for him and the undeniable truth that you were too far in, too vulnerable to keep going without breaking.

You pressed your hands flat against the counter, staring into your own tired eyes. You would confront him about the engagement. You’d ask him for answers, demand the truth. That would be enough to explain your sudden departure, the barrier you’d thrown up as soon as you got home, the tear tracks still drying on your face.

It had to be.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As you stepped out of the bathroom, your chest tightened. Doubt clawed up your spine, relentless and unforgiving.

When you faced Satoru, would he see it? Would those Six Eyes strip away the walls you’d built, revealing everything you were desperate to hide?

You’d read about it once, the abilities of his cursed technique. How it saw cursed energy at an atomic level, down to the finest thread. Could it see the thing growing inside of you? Could it see the blood pumping through its fragile, half-formed heart, the life you hadn’t yet come to terms with?

Your trembling hand gripped the doorknob. If he could see it, would he speak it aloud? Would he force the truth into the open before you were ready to hear it?

You drew in a shaky breath. The barrier dissolved with a flicker of cursed energy, and the air grew heavier, dense with his presence.

When the door opened, he was there. No smirk, no teasing glint in his eye. His expression was sharp, serious, and the way his gaze searched yours made your chest ache.

You froze, hand clutching the doorknob, as his cursed energy brushed over you—steady, deliberate, stripped of its usual chaotic edge. For once, he didn’t try to charm his way past your defenses.

"We need to stop." The words tumbled out, rushed and trembling but resolute. Tears pricked your waterline, and you hated how close you felt to breaking.

Satoru sighed, the sound low and weary. “Shi-chan, again? Listen, I know you’re stressed—”

“Are you engaged, Satoru?”

The question sliced through his sentence like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. Your tone wasn’t curious—it was knowing. It froze his words mid-thought, demanding an answer he wasn’t ready to give.

His eyes widened—not in shock, but recognition. The fluster in his expression, the way his mouth opened and closed as if searching for words, the blush creeping to his cheeks—it was all you needed to see.

“Shiori,” he began, his voice softer now, cautious. But you didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t.” Your voice cut through the air between you. “Don’t explain it away. Just tell me if it’s true.”

He ran a hand through his hair, gaze darting between yours and the floor. His silence spoke louder than words.

“It’s not… not true—” he began, stumbling, his usual confidence replaced with something raw.

“I need real answers, Gojo,” you snapped, spitting his surname like a curse. “Real answers, or I will never speak to you again.”

The silence that followed was deafening. His shoulders sagged slightly, tension betraying the storm behind his eyes. “It’s not what you think,” he said quietly, almost pleading.

“Then tell me what it is,” you demanded, voice trembling. Tears threatened, but you held them back.

For a moment, his mask slipped—regret, fear, desperation flickered across his face. But it passed too quickly, replaced by his infuriating charm, now a defense more than a weapon.

“You don’t understand,” he said, words faltering. “It’s just a stupid clan thing, Shi-chan. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t mean anything?” Disbelief laced your voice. “They announced your engagement, and that doesn’t mean anything?”

“I didn’t let them—” he started, his voice rising, but you cut him off.

“Then what did you do, Satoru?” Your voice cracked as you took a step closer, the weight of your emotions crashing over you. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like you kept it from me. Like you lied.”

“I didn’t lie,” he said, desperate. “I was trying to fix it, okay? I just—I needed more time.”

The tears spilled over. “You don’t get to decide that, Satoru. You don’t get to keep me in the dark and expect me to be okay with it!”

His hands twitched, like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he should. His lips parted, but no words came, leaving the silence to stretch between you.

“I don’t even care if it’s true or not,” you confessed, your voice trembling as the lines of his perfect fucking face blurred through your tears. “I can’t keep doing this with you. Not anymore.”

He flinched, just barely. But you pressed on.

“You need to figure your shit out,” you spat, anger and grief lacing your words. “Go marry a sorceress from a prestigious clan who will give you strong heirs. That’s what they want, right?”

His jaw tightened, yet he said nothing.

“They won’t stop breathing down your neck until you give it to them, Satoru,” you continued, your voice breaking on his name. “So just… just go. This has gone on long enough.”

The silence that followed was broken only by your uneven breaths. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to see whatever expression he wore.

But you felt it—the weight of his gaze, heavy and unrelenting. It burned through the space between you, thick with unsaid words.

“Shi-chan—” he started, his voice quieter now, but you cut him off.

“Don’t,” you said, shaking your head as more tears slipped down your cheeks. “Don’t try to make this better. You can’t.”

You took a shaky step back, your arms wrapping around yourself as if to hold yourself together. “Just go, Satoru.”

His cursed energy flickered around him, unsettled and restless, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at you with those impossibly blue eyes, his expression torn between defiance and something you couldn’t name.

For a moment, you thought he might argue, might fight you on this like he always did. But then he sighed, a sound that carried the weight of a thousand unsaid words, and turned toward the door.

And when it closed behind him, the silence that followed was worse than anything he could have said.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

See my listing on AO3 for a short short bonus chapter ft. angsty teen Megumi! (´ω｀*) perhaps leave a kudos or comment maybe idk haha >_>

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This is Chapter 5 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 @7ds4ever

[okaywitheverything]

“give me a baby” satoru talks to you in a normal tone; you can’t feel or see any notes of sarcasm, but you smile in disbelief, at which he turns to you, “please” sincerely looking into your eyes.

“what’s wrong with you?”

“kids inherit their intelligence from their mom.”

gojo doesn’t let you say a word, putting his finger to your lips, again dazing you with his arguments, “i want my kids to be smart.”

you take his hand away, and he runs his fingers through his hair, ending your dialogue with a wink “and beautiful of course.”

[okaywitheverything]

scared to ask the librarian about this poster...

[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!!

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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