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gojonanami · 1 year ago

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IS IT OVER NOW? - SUGURU GETO (ft. SATORU GOJO)

summary: suguru thinks the only way you'll leave him is if he lies to you about cheating on him - and it is. but turns out, you're not so easy to leave -- for him and his best friend. contents: 18+ only, smut, mentions of cheating, swearing, spoilers for vol. 0 + star plasma vessel and premature death arc, so much angst, but also too much smut (gotta earn that smut by getting through the angst), multiple orgasms, creampie, unprotected sex, fingering (f receiving), oral (f + m receiving), slight choking, panty play, overstimulation (f receiving) wc: 11,150 (why do i do this) playlist: is it over now - taylor swift, now that we don't talk - taylor swift, you are in love - taylor swift, say don't go - taylor swift

“It’s over,” the words slipped out of his mouth like second nature, the same way “I love yous” left his lips with a smile against your neck, but now those same lips were in a tight line. His eyes once filled with mirth, now stared at you with nothing in them — nothing but empty truth.

You don’t believe your ears — and how could you? The same man who laid with you on sleepless nights, in the silence of the way home after brutal losses, mornings spent in his wrinkled uniform white button up, stupid arguments ended in laughter, and the whispered promises kept like oaths in your hearts.

But now, they were broken — broken like your heart was.

“It’s over, I’m sorry — I can’t do this anymore,” and you’re stepping forward over this ravine with a snapping tightrope, but he’s on the other side with a lighter and a knife — daring you to cross it. Because he wouldn’t catch you — not anymore, “it’s not you—“

“Don’t give me bullshit assurances, Suguru,” you spit, the same name you had woken up this morning on your lips, all the love he had fostered over two and half years eroding away with his few words — slipping into hatred without another word, “give me a reason, I know Amanai and Haibara hurt you — hell, it hurt me too, but—“

“Don’t bring them up—“ he seethes, the same passion he once had for you — for even a scratch you had gotten from a mission that he promised to make a curse pay for again and again by making it serve him — now used for people who weren’t even here anymore, “it has nothing to do with them,”

And you almost laugh. It had everything to do with them. You had watched him fall apart over this summer — scapegoat the summer heat to Satoru’s face, when it wasn’t the heat that was withering him to nothing — a wilting flower simmered under the heat of loss. And with no one who could reach him — because he wouldn’t let them.

“You know that’s not true—”

“I cheated on you,” and the words die on your lips — along with any hope you had, “it was a stupid mistake but it showed me we can’t keep doing this,”

“You’re lying,” you denied it — no, no, no.

“I’m not,” and you can’t make sense of it, sense of anything, images of him tangled with another assaulting your senses — assaulting your heart, your soul, your body — bile rising in your throat that seared you on the way down as you swallow, “I didn’t want to have to tell you, but if it’s the only way for you to accept this, so be it,”

“Fuck off, you didn’t want to ‘have to tell me,’” hot, angry tears burning at your eyes, “fuck you,”

“Sweet—“

“You don’t get to call me that,” you snarl, heart rattling your ribs, as if it was trying to break through its bony cage, as if puncturing itself on the shards of your bones would hurt less, “not unless you’re trying to fix this,” you bargain, bargain for a love that was already lost.

“We can’t do this — I can’t do this to you,” and you give a watery chuckle, unable to meet his gaze; meet the gaze you once thought was your salvation — the thing you fought day in and day out to come home to, “I’m sorr—”

“Don’t bother,” you bottle the sadness in a barely kept shut box, shoved beneath your icy exterior, ice crawling over the recesses of your shattered soul, “don’t apologize for me for something you chose to do,” and you turn to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

And you give a terse chuckle, turning to look back, “you don’t get to care anymore, Geto.”

~~~

It was necessary. It was necessary. It was necessary.

That’s what Suguru keeps telling himself. He was caught in a tailspin, a tailspin that was only leading him one place, and he couldn’t take you with him. He couldn’t let that happen. But you keep haunting his thoughts, along with the other ghosts holed up in his head.

He hasn’t seen you in weeks. Only sporadic updates from Shoko when she humored his questions with a bribe of free cigarettes — and he didn’t know what you had told her but he knew you hadn’t told her that he had cheated (because Shoko would have surely ignored him). Shoko had even snuck a picture of you. You had grown your hair out, eyes no longer full of the joy as it once had been, and a cigarette you had said you had sworn you would never smoke between your lips.

And it only makes him want to pull the cigarette from your lips and kiss you again, swallow the smoke poisoning your lungs, hoping your lips would clear the poison from his system. But he couldn’t — he couldn’t go back now. Not when he couldn’t shake the darkness that crept over his soul — he couldn't go back to that spring, because those old days had died along with everyone else around him. Shot through the head just like Amanai.

He stares at the picture and it only makes him more sure — he can’t be in your life. He can’t be yours, he can’t even be your friend — because he can’t pretend it’s just platonic — can’t pretend it means nothing — not when you can see right through him, see the light fading from inside him, and you’d try to save him. Because that’s what you do. So he pays the cost instead, the cost of losing you — of losing your smiles, your laughs, your tears, and your voice.

And he didn’t even have his dignity — he had left that behind when he had lied to your face. Lied because he knew it was the only way you’d leave, and he couldn’t risk you staying. He couldn’t let your fingers dig into his sides, as he let himself drown, he couldn’t watch you choke on water along with him — no, no, it couldn’t happen.

He had long drowned — on that beach in Okinawa.

He got a phone call — Yaga — likely with another mission, and he only can think about Tsukomo’s words — over and over and over. He was treating the symptoms, eradicating curses day in and day out, he himself was a symptom of a broken system — a broken sorcerer.

And he flips his phone open, staring at the screensaver of you and him, your sleepy smile as you look up at the camera nuzzled against his chest — filled with the same love in your eyes that he watched drain from your eyes when he fed you perfectly prepared lies.

“Hello, yes, I’m available for a mission,” he hears Yaga give him the details of the mission on the other line, but it barely registers.

But at least he wouldn’t break you too.

~~~

You wake to a pounding at the door — the one time you had gotten time off, the one time you had taken the vacation you swore you would, the vacation that you would have your phone off, doors locked, no communication with anyone with Jujutsu Tech.

And yet.

There was someone banging on your door at 11:09 PM at night.

You stare at your ceiling at the spinning fan above you, and you couldn’t imagine how this night could get any worse. You throw off your covers, only in sleep shorts and a t-shirt, grumbling as you meander your way to the door to find Satoru, standing at your doorstep.

Your heart drops.

“What— did—“

“Suguru defected,” and you stare at him, as if he’s speaking a foreign language — two words made no sense in that order, no, no — he wouldn’t do that. Suguru out of anyone wouldn’t do that.

“No, that can’t—“ and Satoru comes inside, brushing past you, “Satoru—“

“It’s not just that,” he says softly, “he slaughtered a village, and his parents,” and you’re shaking your head, “why are you shaking your head—“

“What kind of weird prank is this, Satoru— he wouldn’t—“ and your voice dies in his throat as you see the look on his face, and all other words fade away from your lips except one — “why?”

And he explains — tells you what Suguru had told him, what had happened, why he left — “I couldn’t bring myself to kill him,” he murmurs, shaking his head, “I should have — if I had done what he did, Suguru wouldn’t have hesitated—“

“He wouldn’t have been able to do that to you, Satoru,” you scoff, leaning against your couch, Satoru sat beside you, “you’re the most important person to him, he wouldn’t have been able to even fathom the idea of hurting you. He would have just tried to convince you to change your mind,”

He gives a bitter chuckle, “Well then, he would have been able to change my mind all the same,” he’s holding his face, as if it would keep himself from falling to pieces — but his hands are too late — you can see the broken pieces of what was Satoru Gojo in front of you.

“Satoru, you can’t put Suguru upon yourself to save — he made the choices he made, you can’t change them. You can’t fix a person who doesn’t want to be fixed,” and maybe you were projecting — but you swore you saw the same pain, the same pain the day he broken your heart in Satoru’s eyes, “Suguru is smart enough to know where this road is leading—”

“And why can’t I completely blame him for choosing it?” he murmurs, his cerulean eyes finally meeting yours over the rim of his sunglasses, “I understand how he feels — so do you, you’ve seen the broken system, the deaths that could have been prevented—”

“But is this the way to fix it with innocent peoples’ blood on our hands?” you whisper, almost afraid to hear his answer, “I have friends who aren’t sorcerers — would he have me slaughter them too?”

“Well, he killed his own parents, so I wouldn’t doubt that,” he shakes his head, “Suguru was never the type to do things half-heartedly,” and his gaze falls again to the floor, “do you know after I had retrieved Amanai’s body — I asked Suguru if we should kill all of those people in the Star Religious Group?”

“Satoru—”

“He said there would be no point in it — no reason,” and he’s licking his lips, pulling his glasses off, “but he found his reason now, didn’t he?”

“Satoru, you had just come off Amanai, almost dying, you had barely a moment to process—”

“Why did he tell me to stop? Why did he save me when he couldn’t do himself the same courtesy?” And he’s rising to his feet, pacing the room, unable to sit still, “I thought I’d come here and talk to you because who else could understand him more than me? Shoko maybe, but even she doesn’t know,” his fists are clenched at his sides, as he whirls to face you again, “Why? I don’t understand how a person can change so much — how can you go from protecting the weak to—”

“Satoru, I don’t know why Suguru does the things he does—did you forget? He broke up with me,” the words reopen old wounds you thought had long scarred over, flesh wounds that had ripped you open, but had closed back up, now bleeding like new, “and he cheated on me,” and walked away without another word — twisting the knife with his silence.

Satoru’s brows knit together, his mouth opening as if to dispute it, but closing again — because if Suguru could murder his own parents, why wouldn’t he cheat on his girlfriend?

“I’m sorry—” and you laugh bitterly, meeting his gaze.

“I think we have bigger problems than his unfaithfulness,” and he says nothing, “what are we going to do about him?”

“Nothing—”

You stare at him, lips parted, “Satoru—”

“I can’t kill him,” his voice breaks, and it breaks you too, “I couldn’t bear it. I can’t be the one to—”

“But you’re the only one who can—” and you swallow the lump in your throat — how could you tell him to kill Suguru when you couldn’t imagine doing it either? “then what do we do?”

“Nothing, for now,” he murmurs, running his fingers through his hair, “I’ll monitor his moves as best I can, he’s good at covering his tracks — he knows how I operate more than anyone else does,” he says softly, “but not many can hide from the six eyes,”

“And you know how he does things too, Satoru,” you find your way his side, your fingers finding his, “it will take time for Suguru to make large moves — especially if he has two young children with him right now,” your heart aches at the thought — he promised to marry you one day, promised you a family once you both had settled down enough to consider it, and now he had two kids. But you weren’t with him.

His eyes find yours, “i’m sorry about what happened — I wasn’t there — I haven’t been here, at all—”

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Satoru,” and he’s shaking his head.

“Maybe I could have—”

“You can’t fix the whole world, Satoru,” you whisper gently, “you’re the strongest, yes, but that doesn't mean you can be everywhere and do everything,”

“I should have been here,” and you’re shaking your head, “I could’ve—”

“You couldn’t have, do you know how stubborn Suguru is? We couldn’t even convince him to cut his hair, much less change his mind about committing mass murder,” and he sighs, his eyes falling and rising to yours again, “hey, you’re okay, you know. You do too much, honestly, everything you’ve done — everything you will do—”

“And yet it will never feel like enough,” and you feel as if you could hear the same words leaving Suguru’s mouth too — the two had more in common than they had cared to admit.

“You are enough,” and your fingers find his cheek, “just as Satoru, you are,”

And his arms are pulling you into a hug then, head buried in your shoulder, his body consuming you with its warmth, your fingers running through his snowy locks, his tears wetting your shirt, but you say nothing, only holding him.

He pulls back after a few minutes, but his arms still wrapped around you, as he stares at you, barely any evidence of his tears, except for the redness on the tip of his nose, “You’re enough too,”

“I don’t know about that,” you joke, and he’s cutting you off with sharp words and a sharper look.

“You are, sweetheart,” and the familiar pet name makes your heart ache, “you’re more than enough,” and his palm is resting against his cheek, thumb rubbing the length of your cheek, “you’re so much more than you even know,”

And your breath catches as he draws near, “Satoru—” you shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. It wasn’t right. But why did his hands feel so nice against your cheeks? Why were you melting into his touch? Why didn’t you pull away?

“I just want to feel something else,” his hand is sliding into your hair, fingers pressed against your neck, “don’t you?”

And your lips find his first, lips brushing at first — and he’s so soft, his breath catching when you do, your fingers against his cheeks, and he’s pulling you back in again — it’s gravity. Again and again your lips meet, less hesitant with each kiss and each touch.

This shouldn’t be happening. You needed to stop it — Suguru had always teased that his best friend had a thing for you — hell, Satoru had all but admitted it with teasing words and promises to steal you away if Suguru ever had fumbled your relationship. But you knew he’d never would do it.

Or you thought he never would do it.

His hands slide down your body, pulling your hips closer to his, “tell me stop, if you want me to,” he murmurs, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, “I want—”

And you’re kissing him again, pulling him along your living room to your bedroom, “I don’t want to stop,” you breathe, you want something else, you want Suguru’s touch cleansed from your body, you want something more — you want to be wanted.

It had been so long since you had been wanted. The last few months with Suguru felt like an exercise in futility. You barely saw him, much less touched him — mission after mission, and excuse after excuse, piled onto the pyre waiting to burn your love for him alive. How long had it been since you had even kissed him? Each time you tried would end in him pulling away, shaking his head and telling you he was tired.

And he was. He was tired — tired of his work, tired of jujutsu society, and tired of you.

But he didn’t have the courtesy to let you know.

But Satoru…

His fingers are quick to get you naked, deftly pulling your t-shirt over your head, as your fingers tug his jacket off with the same eagerness, “Eager, are we?” he murmurs, half hearted teasing, a ghost of a smile on his lips as you pout, “don’t worry, I am too, baby,” as your fingers tug his sunglasses off, and place them on your nightstand.

You roll your eyes, “Satoru—” and he’s swallowing your retort with his lips — and you can’t help but compare them in your mind, he was so much more aggressive than Suguru was. Suguru’s hands slid over your hips and thighs as if he had all the time in the world, while Satoru’s clung to you desperately, as if you’d dissipate under his fingertips, “should we be doing this? Suguru—“

“Cheated. Murdered. Left us,” And his lips slide from his lips to your jaw, before his teeth graze right under your jaw, drawing a gasp from your lips.

And his lips curl, “Such a pretty noise, just f’me,” and he’s biting and sucking, surely leaving a lovely mark against your skin, his tongue tracing over the mark, “did you make noises like that for Suguru?”

“Satoru—” and his fingers are tugging at your bra, teasing your erect nipples as he’s only tugging the garment down, “fuck—” and his lips kiss your tit, while he’s rolling the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, “please,”

“Did you beg him like that too?” his fingers pull at the waistband of your shorts, teasing the skin underneath, “no wonder Suguru kept you for yourself,” he’s tugging off your shorts down your legs.

“Can we not talk about him if we aren’t gonna talk—” and his lips find yours again, teeth baring down on your bottom lip, “Satoru—” you gasp as he pulls at your lip, thumb sliding over the kiss bitten flesh.

“How can we not?” he murmurs, as his hands slide up your thighs to squeeze your ass, “is this the bed he fucked you on? Is this the way he touched you?” and he’s parting your thighs, large palms holding you apart, as his half lidded eyes linger on the wet patch on your panties, “is this how wet you got for him? Am I special?”

“Oh, fuck off—” and your words fall away as his finger presses against the wet patch, thumb against your puffy clit while his fingers tease your aching cunt.

“What was that, baby?” and he’s grinning, and he spares you, dragging your ruined underwear down, and he’s leaning down to your sopping pussy only to press teasing kisses to your inner thigh, before his lips press against your clit, “so fucking wet,” and he inhales, a languid moan leaving his lips, “if you taste as good as you smell, I’ll be cumming in my pants before I even fuck your pretty cunt,”

And his fingers sink into you — two at once, making your lips part, teasing your pussy open, the lewd sounds fill your ears as your slick squelches against his fingers, “Hear that? Such a greedy cunt, swallowing my fingers up even when I try to pull out,” and he’s pumping faster now, fingers curling against your walls, making you moan far too loudly, “moaning like that, and I’ve barely even started,” he hums, before his breath is warming your slick cunt as a warning as his tongue begins to lap at your clit, again and again.

“Fuck, Toru, need more—” His other hand is only grabbing you, pulling you impossibly closer as a third finger finds its way into you, and your hips move against his touch, begging him to fuck you in earnest. But he’s unrelenting. You can hear him swallow around you, every flutter of your cunt made just for him, as he nearly growls against you, vibrations only making you nearly grind yourself against his fingers and mouth. His tongue circles your clit, toying with it, before his lips close over it and suck, nearly making you scream, “I’m cummin—”

And his fingers finally find the spot they had been looking for, again and again with deft precision, as your walls clench around his fingers, as you gasp, arching your back, as you cum, and he’s licking your essence up eagerly.

Grinning as he pulls his fingers from you, licking your cum from his digits, before lapping at your leaking cunt, making you twitch around nothing, “Fuck, needy pussy practically begging me to fill you, huh? Hehehe,” he’s looking up at you all fucked out, your thighs twitching, eyes blown out — meanwhile his lips, chin, and nose were painted in your essence, the most beautiful work of art you’d ever seen, “didn’t realize how much I wanted this,” and he’s licking up your cum off his face, and wiping the rest on the back of his hand, and he’s climbing back over you, dragging his clothed bulge over your still sensitive cunt, making you both groan, “and I guess neither did you,”

You’re still looking up at him with lust filled eyes, as your fingers find his cheeks, “aren’t you wearing far too many clothes still?” and he’s smiling, “wanna help me out with that, sweetheart?” he asks, as his fingers press your boobs together, thumbs flicking against the abused nipples, cock twitching against your cunt as if he was imaging what it would feel like to blow his load right between them, his warm cum all over your face—

And you’re flipping him in a moment, pinned underneath you, as your fingers undo each button of his now definitely creased white button up, damp with your cum, as your palms drag over the exposed skin of his chest and abs, “Can’t wait to fuck myself on this later,” you murmur, leaning down to drag your tongue up his stomach, making him gasp deliciously, before your fingers busy themselves with undoing his belt, the click of the buckle only making you ache more, as you undo the zipper of his pants, tugging his boxers along with them to bunch at his feet hanging off your too small of a bed, and you can’t stop the gasp that leaves your lips.

He’s so fucking big.

Suguru was big, so fucking big that the first time he fucked you, he couldn’t even fit in your tight cunt. He had to give you multiple orgasms, prep you right, stretching you out with his fingers and tongue, and even a dildo, until you could fit himself with lube. And Satoru definitely wasn’t as thick as Suguru, but he made up for that in length — fuck, how deep would that reach? A pretty curve at the end with lovely veins running up that made your mouth water, white pubes dotting along it that were shaved, but grown out — likely from being away on missions for so long.

“You can take a picture, it’d last longer,” and your eyes snap up to the smirk on his lips, “although I tend to last very long,” he’s shrugging out of his shirt and kicking off his pants, before he’s pinning you under him again, “and if you do, maybe I can take a picture of you, full of my cum, my cock fucking it back in — it’s only fair, right, pretty?” and you shiver, as his finally unclothed cock bumps against your cunt, “oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you? I’ll make it my screensaver, you’d like wouldn’t you, filthy girl?”

And your fingers wrap around his cock, finally making him shut up with a hiss, “Gonna talk all night, or you gonna fuck me, Toru?” and he barks out a laugh, but it's consumed by a moan as you stroke him, leaning up to kiss along his jaw, “you gonna fuck the same hole your best friend did? Gonna cum there too?” and he’s thickly swallowing, your words leaving the great Satoru Gojo speechless, “what? If you brought up Suguru, so can I, right? Only fair,” you echo his words, and you’re squeezing around the base of him, “well, are you—”

And he’s pulling your hand away, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his cock, dragging his pre-cum over your cunt, letting your cum mix together, “Fuuuuuck, baby, so fuckin’ gorgeous,” and he’s manhandling you, grabbing your thighs, and hooking your ankles over his shoulders, “gonna fuck you now, sweetheart, any complaints?”

He grins at the way you shake your head eagerly, hips nearly grinding against his cock, and his tip sinks past your walls, “so tight, baby, did Suguru not fuck you right?” You can’t manage a reply, as you grasp at his shoulders, pulling him closer, as he sinks into you inch by inch, his brow furrowed beautifully as he finally bottoms out with a groan, “s’good f’me, so perfect—“ your walls flutter around him, your slick soaking him, and he’s tilting your head by your chin to make you look at where he’s sunk into you.

And he’s pulling out before sinking back in, and you’re gasping and squeezing him — how was he possibly deeper? “Fuck, baby, your cunt is trying snap me half,” and his hips are slapping against you as he fucks you in earnest, the squeaks of your mattress as he thrusts in and out and the lewd squelch of your pussy as it wraps around every inch and vein of his cock, “that’s it, that’s it, take me, take every inch of me,” and his balls are slapping against your ass, “did you take Suguru this well? Did you ever take anyone this well?”

And you’re a mess of just moans as he’s fucking you again and again, as he cups your chin, “I didn’t hear an answer or did the I fuck the words out of you too, baby?” He’s kissing you again, swallowing your noises with lips curled, before he’s pulling away with a groan, “can’t hear myself think with how loud you are — so fucking wet,”

“S’close, Toru, I-“ and he’s grunting, nodding, as he watches you, his cerulean eyes stare at you, right as his tip brushes your cervix—

“Cum for me baby, let me watch you cum around my cock,” and his fingers reach down between the two of you and rub against your clit, making your eyes roll back, as you fall apart around him.

Your walls are fluttering around him as you cum, moaning his name on your lips, as he pistons in and out again and again, thrusts stuttering as your walls squeeze him tight, “baby, I’m gonna cum, where do you want me—“

“Inside—please need to feel you cum—“ and you’re moaning, pulling him impossibly closer, and he’s sinks deep into you, and cums. He’s spurting his thick load into you, fucking it into you deeper and deeper, until you’re so full of him and his cum, you can barely feel anything else.

He’s slipping your legs off his shoulders, before collapsing on top of you, sinking into your arms. He’s pulling out, watching your mixed releases slip out of you with a groan, “how are you so fucking perfect?” He’s finding your lips in a kiss, before his nose nuzzles your neck, as your highs wear down.

Your fingers run through his white strands, “shouldn’t I be asking you that?” And he laughs, settling on your chest. And for a moment you forget — you forget the nights you spent with Suguru in this bed, the nights spent in tangled sheets with whispered nothings, with his arms around you, just like Satoru’s were now.

But only for a moment.

And as Satoru’s soft snores filled your ears, the only thing on your mind was the one person who you wanted in your bed right now.

~~~

“Still asleep?” your fingers run through his hair, “such a lazy-bones on your days off,” and your lips trace over his jaw, making his lips curl despite the draw of sleep, “gonna leave me hanging after last night?”

And your lips find his, sliding over his with practiced ease, the same way you breathed — it was natural, as his fingers find purchase in your hair, sliding back to your neck. Again and again, your lips cannot part his, if you can’t breathe without him — cannot exist without his touch.

And when you do part, he’s smiling, black fringe falling in his eyes, “So needy in the morning,” Suguru’s voice is gravelly with sleep, even as your fingers card through his black locks, “when did you become such an early riser? Usually I’m the one dragging you out of this bed kicking and screaming,”

Usually, but he’s the one who's struggling out of bed these days. He’s struggling to even function — lifting his arms in the shower feels like too much effort — and what’s the point? Would anything change if he left his bed today? Couldn’t he escape into the recesses of his unconscious for the rest of the day?

But you’re here — and you’re leaning over him, your lips curled in that smile that damned him into submission, because what could he do except submit to you — “who said anything about leaving this bed?”

But he needed to leave this bed, he thought, as your lips found his again — and how did you always taste so sweet? — he needed to leave these warm covers and inviting embrace. Because he couldn’t stay here.

He couldn’t stay with you.

But then your lips find his, and he can’t bring himself to stop, not when you’re climbing on top of him, straddling his waist, his growing bulge tenting in his boxers. He can he stop when you’re murmuring his name like that, eager fingers tugging the damp fabric down, letting his dick slap against his stomach — a bead of precum that you lean down, your tongue darting out to taste.

And he hisses, as your fingers wrap around him, teasing the head of his cock, thumb dragging over the slit, “sweetheart—“ he's warning — but you know he’s all bark and no bite — but he would be biting you later surely, with the way you toy with him — both his cock and his feelings.

Your mere presence in his bed has him questioning himself — questioning how necessary is it to end things? Why does he need to? He had this future planned — a certain way things were to go — he was the strongest, him and Satoru, he was going to work and settle down later, marry you, maybe even a kid or two — but now — the plans had changed.

He had changed.

Satoru was the strongest. Not him. And work as a sorcerer was killing him now, as you and Satoru were sent farther and further away, and Shoko had resigned herself to medicine — what did he have? Another year of this hell — he didn’t even know if he could last another day of swallowing curses. It had become second nature to him, but without a purpose, without a reason without any principles to guide him — it became worse than torture.

It was his personal hell.

And yet, as your soft lips closed around his leaking tip, fingers playing with his balls, as you sank your mouth onto him, drawing soft moans from his lips — he didn’t wanna give it up. How could he, when you were here? He could burn his life down to ash, watch what he worked for, what he had thought was his purpose fall to pieces in front of him — let himself fall to pieces — but that would mean burning you along with it.

And could he bear that?

Your tongue flicked against his length, tracing his veins as his tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him, as his fingers settled in your hair, “fuck, sweetheart, s’fucking good f’me,” and his hips shallowly thrust into your mouth, “take me so well, practically swallowing my dick,” and you swallow around him, pulling a moan from his mouth, his eyes flitting down to see the telltale press of your thighs together, “such a filthy girl, look at you, probably dripping wet from sucking me off,”

And he’s tugging you off, strings of spit and his precum connecting your lips to his aching dick, “Sugu—“ your lips are red and puffy, parted still, with cum and spit slipping down the corner of your mouth.

And he’s pulling you on top of him, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs, hissing as the damp fabric of your far too thin sleep shorts press against his still sensitive cock, “don’t even have to get you ready baby, already all prepped from just tasting me, aren’t you?”

He shouldn’t be doing this — he told himself today would be the day, he promised himself he’d stop pretending everything was fine. But when you felt so perfect on him — soft skin and soft sighs, your little gasp you gave when his fingers slide his t-shirt — the one full of small holes you had stolen from him when you first spent the night that you refused to throw out — up and over your head, exposing your chest to him — how can he stop?

“Suguru, please,” you whimpered as his mouth took one nipple in his mouth, warm tongue flicking against the pebbled flesh before his teeth graze it, pulling another hallowed moan from your lips, “need you,”

“Do you?” He hums, half teasing, half truthful — did you need him? Would you fall apart when he left? Would he spend nights wondering if you were anxious without him? Spend days wondering how you were filling them without him?

And you pause, strange look on your face, as your eyes scan over his features, palm sliding over his face, “of course I do,” passion falls away for a moment replaced with a different intimacy, “you’re my best friend,” and your lips slide over his as you lean down, “I’ll always need you, even when we’re both dust — I hope we spend it bathed in sunshine together,”

But would you? His eyes can’t meet yours — because he can’t see the sun in his future, only a dark descent into madness — a future spent alone. Because even with your smile at the end of his days, he couldn’t imagine spending another minute doing thankless work for miserable, ignorant, weak monkeys, only to do it all over again the next day. And his silence has you questioning him, but it’s like water fills his lungs, paralyzed by his own thoughts, and even as concern fills your eyes, he still can’t find anything to say.

So you say it instead.

“C’me here,” you murmur, and your hands slide over him, “I love you,” you kiss him all over his face — his nose, his cheeks, his chin, his forehead, before your lips hover before his, “can I—“

And he’s flipping you under him, pressing bruising kisses to your lips, as his fingers snake between your thighs, “you don’t need to ask— you never need to ask me,” he whispers in the dark, but even so, he knows — it can’t stay like this — even as he pulls your shorts down to bunch around your ankles and presses his leaking tip your messy folds — it can’t — because you were meant to live in the sunshine.

And he hilts himself in you fully, inch by inch, until he’s groaning your name in a grunt — and he belonged in the dark silence.

He knows this would be the last time. It would be. Because he had to — he couldn’t wait. It was only a waiting game until he was called to another mission, time until he dragged himself lower — until he couldn’t blame the heat for his dark bags under his eyes and the lost weight.

He had to.

And as he fucks you to your orgasm, instead of your lips moaning his name, your hard eyes meet his, lips parting, “I hate you—“ and his hands curl around your neck, “I hate lying traitors,” you choke out as his fingers squeeze your neck.

SNAP.

And he jolts awake, as whispers fill his ears, as his heartbeat slows, “Master Geto?” His eyes flicker over, spotting Nanako and Mimiko trying to snap a chocolate bar in half, “can you help us?”

A dream. It was a dream.

And he’s helping the girls, as they curl up beside him, “are you okay, Master Geto? You were talking in your sleep,” Nanako asks, ever curious, “you looked like you were having a bad dream,”

“I was,” he admits, eyes fixed downward, trying to force the image of you choking below him from his eyes, “about someone I used to know,”

“Who?” Mimiko pipes up, nibbling on her chocolate, and he sighs, running his hands through their hair, a bittersweet smile on his lips — he could still feel your lips against his, the smell of your sweat, the feel of your body.

“Someone I loved — who I left, but I guess…I guess I miss them,” why was he spilling his guts to these two little girls? Ones who had been through far too much to hear about his petty problems.

“Then why don’t you talk to them?” Nanako asks, “maybe you can tell them to live with us,” and his lips curl sadly.

“I don’t think she would want to talk to me,” and why would you? After what he had said, what he had done, and what he was going to do.

“You can try,” Mimiko says, she bites a chunk out of her share of the chocolate bar, “you tried to save us and you did — maybe you can do the same thing — save her,”

And he considers it — maybe he didn’t have to drag you down. Maybe he wouldn’t be — maybe he’d be saving you. Saving you from a system that would only land you in a pile of bodies — just like Riko, just like Haibara.

Maybe — maybe he could. Maybe he could be enough for you. Enough for you to leave. Enough for you to stay. He could have his family — and have you too.

~~~~

He still had your key.

You hadn’t bothered to ask for it back — maybe you had forgotten, maybe you didn’t care — but a part of him hoped it was for another reason, maybe you wanted him to come back.

Even so, he didn’t know if it would still work — maybe you had the foresight to change the locks — but it does, sliding into the lock with ease, as the tumblers slide into place and he’s turning the knob into a silent apartment. And it plants a stubborn seed of hope in his chest, maybe it wasn’t so crazy — aside from breaking and entering — maybe he would find his way back to you.

You’re likely on your walk this morning still — the same way you started the weekend, a walk and visit to your local coffee shop where you got the same order each time, and then you’d spend an hour browsing the shops for something to read or make. He scans the apartment — he knows you’re on vacation this week, from what Shoko had told him last, before he had spoken to Satoru. You hadn’t heard of his news, but you probably did now — if Shoko hadn’t told you, he knew Satoru would have.

And he wonders how that conversation went. Wondered how angry you were. Wondered how much you must hate him now — maybe you even wanted to kill him. But the logical side of him knew you didn’t have the skill to do so — you were a grade 1 — a cut above the rest, but still, your abilities weren’t enough, but emotionally…he may let you kill him, if only to spare him the agony of having to kill you — but he knew it’d kill you just the same.

He can see his days spent here before — you had finally moved off campus, convincing Yaga to let you have your own place early before graduation. You two had celebrated being free of dorm rooms with far too little space and too thin walls (too many times Satoru had spoiled the moment by either banging on the wall, blasting polka music, or just with smug remarks about yours and Suguru’s lack of sleep). He sees himself sitting at the kitchen counter, your stools pressed close as the two of you read the paper together, or laughed about something Shoko had texted or something stupid Gojo had done to piss off Yaga over burnt toast you had only burned while he’s pressing his lips to you. Or evenings spent on the couch cuddling while a bad movie he had picked played, but he’s more preoccupied with teasing you with brushes of his fingers against your bare skin or burying his face in the crook of your neck. And nights spent in your bed, entangled together, his arms around you listening to you breathe, skin dappled in the moonlight that streamed in from the window, wondering how did you ever exist at the same time as him?

And then the front door swings open, as he steps out from the bedroom, and he hears a bag slip falling to the floor, groceries spilling out, and his gaze finds yours, “What—”

“I came to see you,” he moves closer, and you step back — and he’s stopping, he doesn’t see fear in your eyes, he sees hurt — and he almost thinks maybe fear would pain him less.

“Well, I’m here,” you cross your arms, unable to quite meet his eyes, “anything else?”

“Sweetheart—”

“You don’t get to call me that, Geto,” your words were sharp as a knife, and you were trying to cut — and you did, deep. He bites back the sting, as he stares at you — your hair was longer, your eyes had bags, but your lips were twisted with pain, when normally it’d be quirked in a smile pressed against his cheek, “what do you want? Unless I should just save myself the trouble and call Satoru or Yaga?”

“I came to get you,” he steps forward slowly, and you don’t move away this time, “let’s be together. I—”

“You murdered people, you murdered your parents, you left Jujutsu Tech, you broke my heart, you broke Satoru’s and Shoko’s — and you want me to come with you?” you shake your head, barking out a harsh laugh, “did you lose your grip on reality between all the damage you’ve caused?

“If you let me explain—”

“And why should I let you? Your silence these past months was enough for me, you not fighting for us was enough for me, you spiraling without letting me help you was enough for me,” and your voice breaks, “and you cheating on me was enough for me, enough for me to know it’s over.”

“It’s not over, it’s not. I tried to force it to be over. I lied to you, I lied to myself, and said it was over, but it’s not, it’s not,” and he’s so close in a moment, and he can smell the familiar scent of your perfume mixed with your sweat — lavender, hibiscus, and something all the more sweeter, “not when it’s us,” and his fingers brush against your cheek, “please—”

“Don’t do this,” you’re shaking your head, again and again, “don’t, don’t, don’t, please—”

“How can I not? How can I not when I was foolish enough not to the first time, pretty?” he’s murmuring, “I love you, I do, I never stopped,”

“No, you don’t—”

“I do, I do, I know I said a lot of things, I need you to know, I need to explain, if you just let me—” and his fingers are sliding along your jaw, and finds uneven skin, and his eyes lingers, as his fingers tilt your chin up to find a fresh hickey left underneath.

“I—” and he’s drawing you close, so close, his dark eyes narrowed to slits, a deadly silence that makes your skin prickle under his gaze, until he’s warming your lips with his breath.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” but the telltale sign of your breath catching, your chest heaving against his, your lips parted as your eyes can’t pull away from him, his grip is slack enough for you to pull away — but you don’t.

You can’t.

And his lips hover before yours, warming your own with his heated breath, “Kiss me, baby,” and your cheeks warm, butterflies erupting in your stomach, heat blooming wherever his other hand sneaks, dragging over your sides.

“Why should I?” you’re grumbling, but you’re staying right where he has you — right in his arms, and you don’t know why, “you want to kiss me so bad so you do it,”

And he clicks his tongue, fingers sliding behind your head, weaving into your hair and against the soft skin of the back of your neck, tugging you closer, “you kissed someone else with those lips, tasted them, maybe a day or two — were you this bratty with them?”

“Oh fuck off, Suguru, you’re one to talk—“ and his lips swallow your bitter words, tasting them on your tongue, as he parts your lips with a rough squeeze of your hips. And his lips only quirk when your moan rumbles against him, his calloused palms sliding between your thighs.

“You open your legs this easy for them?” he says when he’s pulling away from your mouth, thumb dragging over your swollen spit soaked lips, “how’s that fair? I’m your first, baby, and I’ll always be your favorite—“

And any retort is lost as his teeth drag over your jaw, lips closing right over the hickey he had hated so much, normally calm eyes filled with dark contempt, and he’s biting down, pinching your already bruised skin between his teeth, sucking and soothing with his tongue, “Mine, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You nod wordlessly, and his fingers slide forward, wrapping around the front of your neck, thumbing the hollow of your throat, “Use your words,” and there was something darker — something he had let you have glimpses of in moments of missions, of arguments, even in bed — but it wasn’t a glimpse now — it was the whole goddamn picture above you.

“I’m yours, Suguru,” you manage, words strangled by a moan as his lithe fingers tug at the waistband of your panties, making them rub against your drenched cunt, “please—”

“So pliant now, aren’t you?” he hums, as he pulls harder, making the wet fabric rub against your aching clit, “maybe I should make you cum this way, don’t know if you deserve my fingers or my mouth yet,”

You’re a mess — mind swimming in the need for pleasure, why did it always feel so right with him? So perfect. It shouldn’t be. He cheated on you. He slaughtered humans. He left you. He left you without telling you anything of what was plaguing him, until it was too late.

It was too late. He was too late.

So why were you letting his hands tear your panties apart as he fucked you with them?

Because — your fingers reach for his cheeks, leaning up to kiss him, again and again, as your lips parted and met — it was Suguru.

It was always Suguru.

“Please, Suguru, I need you, need more—ngh—” and the fabric of your panties snaps under his fingers, as he’s ripped them off, pocketing them without another word.

“Did you let him touch you?” he’s kissing down your body, wet kisses, his lips lingering at your pebbled nipples, sucking one, while squeezing the other between his thumb and forefinger, before he switches, kissing down your stomach — tongue teasing your belly button — before he’s finally settling between your thighs, his fringe unrulier than ever, strands of his long hair slipping from his bun, “Answer me, sweetheart,” he orders, as he presses mean fingers to part your thighs for him, surely leaving bruises with how hard he’s holding your soft flesh.

“I did,” you can’t manage the words to tell him who — how can you tell him his best friend fucked you? That you let Satoru fuck you the night you found out he left. It was one thing for him to cheat with a random person, it’s another for you to go and sleep with his best friend, “Suguru, please—”

“Mouth or fingers?” and you swear, despite them not speaking, they still share the same dumbass brain cell—

“What the fuck does it matte—” and your words are cut off by Suguru slipping in two fingers at once into your leaking cunt, fucking you meanly as he watched your mouth fall open, head tilted back as your hips jerked against him, desperate for more. His fingers curled as they fucked your hole open with rapid thrusts, the squelch of your cunt going straight to your head and straight to his already hard cock.

“It fucking matters because this is my pussy, isn’t it, baby? I fucked it first, I fucked it best, and I need to know what others did while I was gone, don’t I?” and a third joins the other two, pulling another moan from your lips,“but if you won’t tell me, I’ll just use both, fuck you with all five fingers and tongue if that’s what you want to do,”

“Sugu—” you’re already so fuckin’ close, your walls shuddering around his cock, “I’m—“ and he stops moving, smiling down at your open mouth twisting in a scowl, “fuck—“

“That’s what we’re trying to do, baby, but I’m not gonna let you cum that easy,” he coos, his curled lips leaning down to lap at your cunt, warm tongue dragging up your clit, before sucking lightly, making you squirm, “tell me you want me,”

“Your fucking ego—“ and he’s plunging three fingers into your messy entrance, making you gasp — god, you hated how good he felt — his fingers bullying your insides with practiced ease, “Sugu— please—“ as his tongue teases your clit, flicking it, before his teeth nibble at it. You’re squirming in earnest now, nearly fucking yourself on his fingers and tongue.

He laughs, pulling his mouth from your cunt, lips glossy with your pre-cum,“How quick you’re going from cussing me out to begging me to cum,” you don’t care anymore — you need to cum, “tell me what you want, Princess,”

“Need to cum, please, please, Sugu—ah—“ and he’s sinking one more finger in you, before his lips close around your clit and suck, hard. Your back arches as something in you snaps, as the squelching and slurping of his fingers and sucking send you over the edge. You flood his mouth and fingers with your cum, squirting all over him, as he eats you out and fucks you through your orgasm, groaning as you clench around his tongue and fingers. Your thighs shake and quiver in his grip, fingers holding you still in place, as he keeps overstimulating you, “too much, can’t—“ you cry out, shaking your head, but he’s not relenting until you feel something build in again — more and more, until his fingers find that one spot in you that has you silently screaming as you cum again, even harder than the first. You’re soaked — soaked the sheets through, chest rising and falling as the pleasure ebbs away, tears slipping down your cheeks, folds fluttering as he pulls his fingers out.

His breath warms your dripping cunt, lips glossy and eyes dark, groaning as he watches your cum slip from inside you, as he looks up at you with a dark, half lidded gaze, “So fucking good for me, even hotter when you cry,” he’s licking his lips clean of your cum, before he’s pressing the pads of his fingers into your open mouth, “clean them f’me, baby,” and your tongue swirls around him obediently without question, pretty eyes glassy with tears making his rock hard cock twitch in his pants, “good girl,”

And he’s pulling his fingers from your mouth, before leaning up and pulling off his black sweater, the click of his belt as he kicks off his pants, your eyes glued to his thick cock — he was thicker than Satoru, so pretty too — black pubes groomed, nearly pressed against his stomach.

“Always so desperate for my cock, aren’t you, Princess? I’ll let you clean your cum off of it after, but I have to have you first — got to reclaim what’s mine,” and he’s dragging his cock against your clit.

You gasp, twitching against him, but more than the pleasure, the guilt creeps in — flashes of Satoru from the night before with hands over your hips and thighs, and you had kept quiet about your life from the time you spent away. You had done your best to stay away from Suguru, even though you knew he hadn’t exactly done the same — asking Shoko questions, for pictures, for any scrap of you.

And you couldn’t lie — not about this.

“Suguru,” and he’s pausing, eyes meeting yours with a flash of concern, but the words tumble out with warning, just the way he had done with you, “I slept with Satoru,”

And he’s silent — emotions roll in and out on his face — confusion, hurt, anger, and acceptance — they all fall away as he’s only staring off to the side, unable to even look at you. Words fall away, stopped in your mouth after the bitter truth that’s left it and you wonder — is it over now? Seconds feel like hours — your fingers curl into the sheets, looking for something to hang onto, to ground you. Why did he have to start this? You were fine with the burnt ashes of the love he had scorched over, but now he started a fire, and you didn’t want to put it out. You didn’t want to go out.

You didn’t want him to go.

But he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes finally find yours for a moment, before he’s kissing you again and again and again, bruising kisses that slaughter any sense of logic and words from you — but his message is clear, he doesn’t wanna talk, especially as his hand reaches does to brush his aching tip against you, smearing his pre-cum over the length of you.

And he’s sinking into you, and somehow you’re still so tight around him, “Fuck,” he hisses, the first word that leaves his mouth, “did Satoru not fuck you right last night?” and your lips part as he thrusts harshly and smoothly, bottoming out with one single movement, “still as tight as when I took your virginity, aren’t you, baby?”

“Suguru,” you’re so full, he’s so thick, and these last few weeks without him almost had your cunt forgetting what he felt like filling you — his hands gripping your thighs to press them back against your stomach, as he pulls back only to slam back in, making you head loll back, “s’good, s’full,” it’s all you can feel, all you can think about, was him, just him.

“That’s right, I’m the only one who can fill you like this, the only one that makes you feel this good,” the sounds of his hips slapping against you send more heat flooding downward, as he grunts, watching himself piston in and out of you, “take me s’well, my good girl, mine,” he growls, “squeezing me so tight, never want me to leave this sweet cunt, do you?” your thighs shake as he presses them back, balls slapping against your ass, as he only sinks deeper and deeper, “could fuck you all night, don’t hide that face from me,” he’s forcing you to hold his gaze as he fucks you — your glassy eyes blown out with pleasure, your kiss ruined lips parted for him as you panted and moaned, forehead glossy with sweat, “wanna watch you cum around my cock, wanna see you scream my name, pretty baby,”

His hand slides behind your ass, grabbing a fistful and finding a better angle before slamming back in, and with his filthy words, its enough to have you cumming with his name on your lips, “Sugu—fuck, Suguru!” your voice goes to a pitch you didn’t know it could reach. Toes curling as your gummy walls swallow him in, your pretty mouth forms an ‘o’ and he grunts, imagining those lips around his cock, his thrusts growing sloppy as he fucked you through your orgasm. His dick was soaked, his precum mixing with your cum.

But he wasn’t done yet.

He’s slapping your clit, making you jolt, as he’s still pressed inside you, “Sloppy fucking girl, I know you have one more for me,” and you’re so fucked out, he’s guiding your legs around his lower back and hips, making you gasp, “gonna cum in this perfect princess cunt,”

“Sugu, can’t, It’s too muc—” you nearly sob, but he’s already fucking you, thrusting again and again. And it doesn’t take long for another orgasm to build, already far too sensitive from your last. It’s too much — the feeling of his hips slapping against yours, the feeling of his cock twitching inside your walls, the small moans that your tight cunt pull from his lips, and when his tip brushes against that perfect spot, as his thumb bears down on your clit — it’s too much. You see stars as you cum again, even harder, the loud squelch as he fucks you still pulls a deep groan from his lips.

“Gonna cum, baby, gonna make a mess of you, fill you up,” he’s grunting, and you’re only nodding and moaning “yes,” still fucked out from your orgasms, but it’s enough for him notch himself deep in you and cum, painting your womb white, as he spurts his seed inside you.

And his hips stutter, as he eases your legs down, still shaking and quivering from being fucked, and he rubs them, as you pant, his fingers then reaching to wipe your tears, as he eases himself out, groaning as he watched your mixed cums leak out of your cunt.

“Suguru,” you murmur, and he’s leaning over you, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead, and your hand reaches for him, cupping his cheek, “I love you,” and you do — you always loved him, you always would — there was never anyone else. Only him. But the words can’t find their way out of your mouth, sleep calling for your attendance, as your fingers run through his hair, pulling his hair tie off, and carding their way through his long hair, “I love the long hair,” you hum, eyes fluttering and heavy with sleep.

“Do you?” His voice is gravelly, as he leans down, his lips finding your own for moment, before reaching for a bath towel you had slung over your metal bed frame, as he cleans you up, “how much?”

“Too much, Sugu,” he chuckles softly, as he finishes cleaning you and himself up, pressing soft kisses to your thighs, as he moves to get up and put the towel in the hamper — your hand catches him by the wrist, “Don’t go,”

And his gaze softens, as he shakes his head, “I’m just taking this to the hamper, I’ll come back to bed,” and your lips form an unfairly cute pout, but you relent, letting him walk away to the bathroom to dispose of the towel, and when he comes back, you’re already asleep, curled up.

He stands in the doorway, watching your chest rise and fall — and he’s walking over, pulling your comforter over your body, as he holds it open for himself, pausing, only to let it fall and settle on your side.

He couldn’t ask you to come with him. Couldn’t whisper those words in the night, because you couldn’t save him from the dark — not you, not Satoru, not a single person. Because he wasn’t cut out to live in this world with a smile on his face — and you always deserved to have one on your lips. And Satoru could do that for you. Not him.

It was never him. He was never good enough — his fingers trace over your cheek, pressing another kiss to your forehead — not for the jujutsu world, and not for you.

And he turns to leave, sparing a single glance at you — but he’d make a place for him. And maybe for you — make a world that’s safe for them to live in. Where he didn’t have to watch you join the other bodies piled up around him.

He’s pulling the door shut to your apartment softly, his key left on the table.

It was over.

~~~

“You’re late again, as usual,” Suguru smiles, slumping down against a wall, “Satoru,”

“The ones in Kyoto, they were under your command?”

“Yes, they all were,” he sways, holding his shoulder, he didn’t have much time left — he couldn’t feel anything, even as he held his wound, he felt nothing — no pain, no anger, no hatred, “no matter what anyone says, I hate those monkeys,” and his thumb brushes lightly over his shoulder, “but I never held any hatred for those in Jujutsu High School,”

“Did you not? Could’ve surprised me,” and his head turns slowly behind Satoru, and he sees you — sees you for the first time in a decade. Even at his visit to Jujutsu High, you weren’t around — away on a mission, just as he had intended.

Satoru only sighs, sparing you a glance, “I told you not to come here—”

“And I told you that I needed to see him,” you brush past Satoru, kneeling by Suguru — and he can’t take his eyes off of you — he had seen pictures, ones he had his twins take (not wanting those money grubbing monkeys to have even an image of you), and he saw you had done quite well for yourself after he had left. A teacher, just like Satoru — trying to foster a new generation of sorcerers — he was right, you were just like him, weren’t you? And he watches as your brow furrows, scanning over his injuries, gears grinding, but he has to halt them right then and there.

“There’s no saving me now, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, “but you know that already, don’t you?” he takes an unsteady breath, leaning back against the wall, his eyes falling over you again, “still so beautiful — how’s that possible?”

“Not beautiful to stick around for though, am I?” your words aren’t laced with bitterness so much as it’s a question, a question of why he had left you. Why did he never had come back.

“But beautiful enough to always stay faithful to,” his words are soft, “I don’t have many regrets, not any at all truly in retrospect, but I did lie to you about cheating—”

“I know,” your hand uses your sleeve to clean some of the blood on his face, scarlet on your palm, “I realized once I thought about it — and I’ve had plenty of time to think about you, Suguru,” your fingers trace his jawline softly, “because thoughts were all you left me with,”

“Not all I left you with,” his eyes slide back to Satoru and back to you, lips curled in a smile, “you two were always more better suited than I ever was to you, princess,”

“Suguru—” Satoru starts, but Suguru is shaking his head.

“It’s rude to interrupt a person’s last words, Satoru,” he clicks his tongue, and his lips curl as he finds your gaze again, your eyes glassy, “don’t look like that, sweetheart,”

“Suguru, why did you have to leave?” and he’s shaking his head slowly, resting it against the wall behind him.

“Because I didn’t belong there — I couldn’t live in this world with a real smile on my face,” and his hand reaches for you, but stops, falling back to his shoulder, and tears slip down your cheeks, “but with you, I came close,” he murmurs, and he knew it was time, “Satoru,” and that’s all he had to say to have Satoru start to pull you away.

“No, no, please—” you’re shaking your head, trying to push past Satoru, but you slump in his arms, “I love you, Suguru, I always will,”

And he gives a small chuckle, lips curled in that smile that always damned you — “At least curse me at the end,”

But you never could, as you step away, squeezing your eyes shut as you hear the distant splatter of blood. And you knew — you knew you would have stayed forever, stayed with him forever, if he only had told you not to go.

But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

The two of you bury him, somewhere secluded, where no one would find him. The cold ground was hell to dig up, but the two of you managed somehow, each shovelful feeling like a funeral march with no end in sight. Neither of you could bear the thought of his body being poked and probed for its secrets, before being burned, turned to the ash and smoke, the very same he had left your lives in when he had torched it all to the ground. But even so, you couldn’t bear it — and as you look at the mound before you, you want to claw his body up — dig him up as if it would bring him back to life, pull whatever being or force out of the sky and make them give him back.

But you can’t — it’s over.

Satoru’s hand finds your shoulder, pulling you into a hug, burying your face in his chest, as he holds you tight to his chest. And he’s leading you away from Suguru, a single flower left over his grave, as the cold air freezes the tear stains left on your cheeks.

It’s over now. It was over now, right? Right?

And it was.

Until Shibuya.

a/n: this was supposed to be 3K, and ended up being over 10K. story of my life. this fic is thematically sponsored by 1989 (taylor's version), in particular, the vault tracks that helped me write this. you can literally spot lyric references almost throughout the entire thing

tag list: @ghostkonigkeegan141, @lightblueexorcist, @aemondseyesocket, @lemonpoppy-seed, @stran-dedforyou, @tiaraqueen123, @sun-daddy-yoriichi, @grooveandshit, @prettyabc, @kaskasi, @moranguitosz, @haunting-venus, @ninneko19, @psychicai, @d1rtv, @forest-fruits-jam, @katie91239, @dud3vil, @robynnikole151, @ivory-cove, @ohbi-the-way, @numbinyourchest, @dabisdolly, @kal0pssiaa, @glaceliy, @3atinguout, @iovesatoru, @imthebestbye-blog, @michelleeveline, @ichikanu, @ummcumfurtable, @collectionofdolls, @auraeum, @reesesnieces, @goldfishsmemory, @itshobiscussposts

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marcysdreamydays11 · 22 days ago

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"He had a family" so did the huge numbers of people that he denied healthcare and let die 🥰. While he was sitting in his bathtub full of money and going on cruises with his family and probably going to the Bahamas he got was built from denied healthcare claims there were people in poverty and such who were out here dying. Stop using his family as an excuse to feel bad for him.

I feel bad for his kids but not him his kids don't know wtf going on and its been only 2 fucking days since the shooting but I ain't gonna feel bad for him cause he had it coming and his kids will probably NEVER know the truth about their father and UHC

But fuck him.

Over 15k people who are already struggling economically are slowly losing their lives then a rich ass CEO who benefits from our shitty country gets gunned down but we feel bad for the CEO.

crazy how..about musk next.

Sigh if that man who took his life came at my door so I could hide him he's going in my closet sorry officers never seen him a day in my life lol matter of fact I think he flew out the country.

Shooters get the CEOs not the children.

#feds this is a joke #brian thompson #fuck ceos #unitedhealth #unitedhealth group inc #unitedhealthcare #united healthcare #rip bozo #rest in piss

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l-in-the-light · 2 days ago

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This. People in fandom are under misconception that Doflamingo is a literal psychopath or born evil (and many also have some questionable ideas about how to fix him), and because of that deserves everything bad that's happening to him (and some people even claim he didn't suffer enough yet). Sorry to break it to you, if you believe it, but this is just scapegoating at best, and encouraging abuse at worst. I do know where the justification for treating him this way is coming from tho. In Dressrosa arc even Mingo's own "family", Trebol especially, treats him this way.

He literally calls him a demon. Imagine growing up surrounded by family who thinks of you as a demon/devil/psychopath. That is abusive environment, but Mingo didn't get to choose his family, not really. He had to stay with Trebol and co because they were the only ones who cared enough to pick up a powerless, starved and bullied child off the streets. They had a hidden agenda and basically used him for their own needs, but it's still better than being dead, right? And they did take care of him, even if that care was really somewhat twisted and toxic.

You don't want to teach any child THIS. Not to mention, Doffy already grew up with very toxic ideas in Marie Geoise, so these guys are only reinforcing them to be correct and make Doflamingo believe he was a mistreated god's favourite and deserved worship/sitting on a throne all along.

Look, if you grow up in privileaged community that clearly believes they're the chosen ones, whose lives are more meaningful than the rest of the humanity, then of course you will start to think you're entitled to own your own slaves and expect adoration anywhere you go. The other Donquixotes seem to have had a change of heart at some point, but they're shown to be a rare exception.

Why do I say it must have been a change of heart? Just look at what Homing says here. He says he needs to teach his children how the world works, from scratch. BOTH of them, not just Doflamingo.

And yeah, I get it, we all tend to trust Corazon's opinion on Doflamingo. "He's innately evil", "a monster", "I can't believe our loving parents could have such a child" etc. Yet even he says it: "the only ones who knows this are the four officers, including me". I showed you how toxic the mentioned officers were and what crazy ideas they put in Doflamingo's head. I dunno if this is a misunderstanding on Corazon's part or there's something else going on here; perhaps his need for revenge? He was devastated when Mingo killed Homing after all, and that would be understandable reaction from him for that.

But we should remember one thing: Doflamingo killed Homing so they (Mingo and Cora) could survive. Their mother died as the result of the persecution (yes, she was sick, but she wouldn't be sick if they had a better place to live and proper food to eat), Homing was still not doing anything to actually change their situation. Why does he want to die for his beliefs? Shouldn't he try to do everything he can to make sure his children have a better life than the hell he threw them into, shelving his naive goody-goody beliefs? He basically was expecting them to die together with him, for his beliefs. Like yeah, sure, he loved and tried to shield them, but didn't care for their longterm future. And I get it, he had limited options, but you also need to realize this: what would happen if Doflamingo didn't take the charge? Yes, his methods were questionable and honestly stupid, but he did manage somehow to make their situation better: they survived and weren't bullied and persecuted everywhere they went anymore! Corazon, is in fact, indebted to Doflamingo for that.

Anyway, my point is, don't take that narration at face value. No one is ever born evil. Luffy would be disappointed in fans who believe in things like that. What? You think not even Luffy defended Mingo? Well, he couldn't do it in words, because Luffy was indebted to Law who had personal beef with Mingo, and Luffy is always loyal to his friends. He would never tell to Law or Nami "hey, Mingo/Arlong is not that bad!". But there's a difference between recognizing someone is hurting his friends and believing someone is born a certain way.

And I sincerely believe Luffy doesn't mean only slaves here.

Besides, weren't Doflamingo and Rosinante (as persecuted children) also considered something akin to "flithy cockroaches" in the eyes of others? Luffy tells you "you're wrong". There's no such thing as human trash.

Someone called Doffy a "child that needed a smack on the face to right his wrongs"

And I'm like.

You don't think being tortured and homeless and starved was enough?

You think his parents should have hit him, too?

You think hitting children makes them good people?

You think Doffy being abused by his parents would have made him a better person?

#one piece #donquixote doflamingo #corazon #luffy #lesson in empathy #reblogs #you can think of this as controversial ofc but just because we recognize Mingo was made evil not born evil #doesn't mean we have to justify his actions #we just shouldn't deny him his humanity #also abuse has never made anyone a better person #on the contrary; many people who do evil things were often abused themselves #it's the uncomfortable truth we don't really want to face #but clearly setting boundaries here between good and evil is not the same as switching off empathy for someone and dehumanizing them #you really can't have empathy for someone who was persecuted as a helpless child?#this arc wants you to ask this question and find your own answer instead of the one “pushed on you”#Luffy always makes it a point to judge people by himself instead of believing rumours or other people's opinions

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pseudowho · 7 months ago

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The Silent Stars Go By

On the night of October 31st, Nanami Kento feels his death approaching. Knowing you are on the battlefield with him, and knowing he cannot die without showing you how he feels, he seeks you out...and subverts destiny.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, "last night on Earth" smut, truly desperate, frantic, semi-public, Shibuya ending rewrite

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Nanami Kento knew he was to die, on October 31st.

He was no arithmancer. A pragmatist at heart with a mathematical streak, he had, however, carried his barely living friend to safety, found the bodies of many others, punched a young man to death, and lived to tell the tale. The numbers divined great danger ahead, and, by the time a pink-feathered songbird had sung the perish song of Satoru Gojo, Kento could not deny the maths.

Kento could suddenly see no distant future for himself, as he once could. And yet between then, and now, there was one stark similarity; what future Nanami Kento did see, contained only you.

Behind his eyes flashed a montage of memory-- of midnight laughter-filled dinners at the Konbi. Of shielding you in battle, and you shielding him in return. Of you sitting on his lap, stitching his wounds with utmost care, before your reverse-cursed technique had fully developed. Of falling in love with you, and denying himself joy for believing he may give you none.

Being around you was agony. Being away from you was worse.

"I'll be heading underground," he had intoned to Nitta and Nobara, taking in their girlish features for the last time with a stab through his belly, "after I catch up with someone. Stay safe. Don't sacrifice yourself."

He was a hypocrite. He knew this. He would walk to the gallows, proud, if only he could take you in his arms and cry his love for you, first.

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Looking out over the city, having heard Yuuji's cries for 'Nanamin' only a few minutes earlier, you did not know you were being desperately searched for by Kento. You had determined yourself to find and follow Yuuji, the boy without protection.

The night breeze whipped at you, unhindered by walls and trees, on the roof of one of Shibuya's tallest buildings. Turning to leave, you felt a familiar warmth approaching. The man you loved opened the stairwell door, squeaking on its pivot.

Missing his suit jacket and tie, with his sleeves rolled up, he thrummed with raw, uncontained power. Something feverish stormed within his eyes as he looked to you. His steps were slow, and considered. The quiet calm of his voice was deliberate, soft.

"Kento, what...what are you doing here? Is that blood? Oh god, you're bleeding-- let me heal you--"

"Stop. It isn't mine. Just listen for a moment."

"Isn't yours? Then one of the others? We should get them to Shoko--"

"--I need you to listen, now--"

"--we haven't got any time--"

"I love you." The air fell still; a puff of blossom in suspended animation. You had not realised you were holding your breath until Kento's steps caught up to you, and his hands grasped yours. A melancholic certainty rolled off him. Flicks of blond fell over his forehead, that fervour still gripping him; gripping you.

"I love you. You are the purest truth I know. The warmest light. Anything I am, and anything I could have been, is at your mercy, and always has been."

The gut-churning adrenaline you had felt for the fever-pitch of battle was suppressible, before Kento's impassioned promise. That dam broke inside you, and the terror and adoration and injustice heaved out of you in one great sob. You needed his body flush to yours. Public decency took a back seat. So many years of restraint and doubt slid away.

You looped your arms around Kento's neck, one hand grasping his shoulders, and the other sinking into the back of his hair. Kento almost broke, himself, but couldn't; not yet. He had to show you. Needed to show you.

You felt him pull your head away from his shoulder, and you resisted, until his fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head. You were nose to nose. You could feel his heart booming in his chest, fresh from a fight you had not witnessed.

"If this is my last chance," Kento whispered, his nose stroking yours, "will you let me take it?"

"...what...what do you know...that I don't? Kento--"

"Please." Kento growled, his teeth gritted. You felt the twitching contractions of his belly, his hardening cock pressing against you. You couldn't resist his need to control this, and take what he needed, even if you wanted to. Your breaths ached in your chest. Silent, glossy-eyed, you nodded.

Kento broke, possessing your lips in one shuddering kiss. His hands and body squeezed at your softly yielding hips, all-consuming, trying to overfill himself with any scrap of you he could take. He dominated the kiss completely, selflessly, as thoughtlessly altruistic as he had always been. He groaned, panting through the taste of you, his tongue sliding against yours. His cock wept inside his boxers-- it was all too much too much but not enough--

You mewled, little hands gripping onto his collar, sending thunder to Kento's core. Kento pulled away, cursing, feeling the need to know the scars that pleasure etched upon your skin. You were scorched by his touch, too pliable now to do anything but bend to his insistence.

In blood and brutality you sought each other, beacons in the night with stars as your witness. They looked on, disinterested, as if fate held any regard for the lives of mortals, over gods.

With time as his final remaining enemy, Kento pulled you to his lap, sitting with his back against the low wall overlooking the city. He knew for whom the bell tolled. He would see his duty done before the final chime, and he stared into you in your entirety. Though neither a painting nor an ivory box, he handled you with kid gloves.

You straddled his lap, unbuttoning his shirt, and he whispered, groaning and bucking up against your clothed sex as he watched your nimble fingers press his opened shirt apart. Running your hands in reverence down his bared chest and belly, he could not have loved you more than when he saw his own desperation reflected back at him.

In another life-- in any other world-- I--

He lifted you, enough for you to kick your jeans and underwear off, his teeth bared to feel your core press against his aching cock. He spoke through your kisses, a fractured sentence punctuated by his apologies.

"I didn't-- didn't prepare-- no protection-- I can't-- can't stop-- please don't make me stop." He begged, reaching down to hook his cock out. You silenced him with one hand wrapped around his rigid length, and Kento stilled with a hiss.

--take you to dinner first, I'd show you the world-- fill you with its beauty before I fill you with mine--

"Don't care--" You insisted against his neck, "--don't care...need to feel you." Kento almost sobbed with relief to feel you hold him, stroking the head of his cock between your glistening folds. You let his cockhead and slit catch over your clit, shivering, intoxicated by the way he watched you with one hand splayed across your belly, the other on your hip, and blown pupils. He bucked his hips, needy, full of baleful possession.

--and we'd have a Victorian glasshouse with a garden you'd love-- and you'd plant wildflowers while I do the laundry--

Grasping your hips with a snarl as you stroked his cockhead down, Kento impaled you downwards onto him, the moment his cock notched at your entrance. You squeaked, pussy clenching with the sudden blissful invasion, your squirming making you sink lower. Kento felt a telltale throb of impending orgasm in his belly, and he was certain if you clenched one more time--

Your pussy full to the brim, you instinctively bucked downwards. Feeling Kento belly-deep, his trembling fingers dropped to your clit, and you felt Kento's abs twitching beneath your splayed hands. Feeling two clever fingers bracketing your clit and rolling from side to side, you squeezed him, milking his cock and locking him inside you.

--all the late nights and early mornings and train rides and arguments in sickness and health for richer for poorer--

"--love you-- I love you too." You sobbed into his chest, loose and warm against him. Kento saw stars, coming with a shout, thick ropes of cum spurting into you. Looking up at the euphoric agony on his face, and his fingertips bruising your ass as they pinned you down around him, satisfied you spiritually, in a way so alien to you.

You rolled your hips, drinking down every part of him. The long, powerful contractions of his cock inside you, his stilted low moans, his gasps of pleasure as your tight gloved heat continued to stroke him. Starved for him, desperate for more, you rode Kento to frantic overstimulation.

--so unfair this is so unfair, die for you like you'd die for me like I'd die for you like you'd die for me--

You realised with a happy squirm that he hadn't yet removed his glasses or harness. With his shirt trapped against his shoulders, and his lens steamed, fucking upwards and thrashing his head from side to side beneath you, you couldn't stop yourself. You felt the fullness of his creamy load still plugged deeply inside you, and pushed hard against him. Kento cursed, paralyzing you with a hushed roar of agony, and a hand grasping your throat.

"--asked you to make love to me-- not kill me-- but shit, if this is how we go, just take me with you-- take me with you--"

His fingers had never left your clit, now rolling it insistently, until you were the one wriggling and desperate. Still being stuffed with his cock and cum made your pleasure three-dimensional, and Kento's half-hard length began to stir to life again, still high off the adrenaline of punching a man to death. He growled at you with gritted teeth.

"--beautiful...good girl...not done with you yet...shit, keep it in, keep it all in...take me with you...please--"

With half lidded eyes, you grasped Kento's forearm. His hand still braced you with exquisite tenderness around the throat, a necklace instead of a noose. His second hand worked frantically against your clit while you moaned and begged above him, still speared on his cock, feeling him lengthen and thicken again inside you. You whimpered and keened, and Kento committed you to memory, just like this. He would close his eyes in his final moment, and see you, breaking like spun sugar above him, no sweeter sound than his name on your lips.

--bake for you on Sundays, and the bread would always burn, because we'll be too busy--

Kento continued stroking you, pressing kisses onto your forehead as he guided you down from your high. Cautiously starting to roll his hips up again, he moaned at the slick sucks of his cock sliding through his cum and yours. Unthreading his shirt through his harness, Kento threw it to the ground, before lying you down on top of it.

Otherwise fully dressed, with dried stains of blood rusted over his chest and back, Kento bore over you like a vengeful god. Here to take his spoils, he still handled you like glass, resting your head on one of his planted forearms, with a hand under the small of your back to protect you from the floor.

"...I've wanted you for so long-- you don't even know--"

"I knew." Kento faltered. His anguish at leaving you for certain death sharpened, with the sudden knowledge of past chances untaken. His heart clenched, aching down his arms, steeling himself. He couldn't help but lean into your hand, cupping his jaw.

Nuzzling his nose to yours, Kento melted at your smile twinkling up at him. He smiled back, suddenly bashful, lopsided with crinkling eyes, before biting down on one lip and slamming his cock down into you. Your gasp shook through you, clawing into the harness across his chest and shoulders, hearing Kento swear with pleasure at the intensity of a second round.

Kento barely pulled out, wrapped in your arms and tight cunt. He almost spat with anger at the simultaneous need to savour you, and the need to leave, knowing he could not have both. Duty to you held the greater weight and, feeling another orgasm creep through his back and balls far too quickly, he slowed.

Completely engulfed by the enormity of him, you stared up at Kento, made submissive under his emotional insistence, the thick aching stretch of him sheathed inside you. Your back arched off the ground with a guttural moan when Kento slowed, dragging himself through your core from ball to tip in long, languid thrusts, the whole length of his cock glistening with gluey white seed.

He swore he could feel every ridge of you, the mind-altering bend of his cock as it moulded to the curve inside you. He needed you to carry the shape of him forever, an unremovable flesh-memory. Something had changed in him as you carded your fingers through his hair, whispering praises to him, to try to hold him together.

Kento looked drunk. His eyes were distant and hyperfocused all at once, his breaths and groans gruff, his voice gravelly with emotion as his mouth muffled against your shirt.

"--sorry, I...can't move my hands...hurt you, I--" Kento grasped your shirt between his teeth, ragging his head from side to side with a growl to lift it up over your breasts. He did the same to your bra, gripping the cups to yank your breasts free. They bounced out, full and peaked under his hot, frantic breaths.

Kento nosed at them, pulling his cock from you slowly, only to slam back into you with enough force to leave you writhing and whimpering. His mouth and nose played with your breasts, nudging, sucking and biting, hungry and obsessive. Something primal glimmered in his green glass-concealed eyes, as your mounds jiggled every time he fucked into you. The visual stimulus of you spread beneath him, your tight pussy slick with his cum, doe-eyed and completely willing, sent him spiralling towards his high.

"God I wish I--wish I could stay-- more than anything...cum with me, please please please--"

His thrusts became frantic, rough and sloppy with no warning. Kento's eyes darted from your face, to your breasts and pussy, and back again, drinking in the shock and ecstasy plastered over your face. You were trapped within the humid embrace of him, erotically overstimulated by his smell, his desperation, the constant stroke of his weeping cockhead against your spongy soft spot.

You didn't realise how close you were to orgasm until his position shifted, his trimmed honey-gold trail now rubbing against your clit. Clinging onto him, and rubbing upwards to meet his thrusts, you begged for Kento to help you. Your begging was Kento's last straw, and he gasped, his seed slugging out in lazy, creamy trickles against your overstuffed cervix and pussy.

Barely able to see straight, Kento kept rubbing his rigid pelvis against you, gruff and messy while you felt the drag of pleasure through you, softer than bare feet through hot sand. Kento whispered to you, sweat mingling on your foreheads pressed together; "...don't regret a thing...won't regret a minute-- wish this was different...deserve more..."

Panting in each others embrace, the dreadful horror of reality seeped back into you both. You could hear cries in the distance, the rumble of battles. You fought an unwinnable fight. Silent, and pensive, you jolted out of your reverie to hear Kento groan above you, reluctantly pulling his softening cock free. He knelt, dewy-eyed, watching the gluey drip of his cum from you, moaning and shivering as he held his half-hard cock, nudging the cum back inside with his tip.

The sudden emptiness almost made you weep. You felt the same terrible foreboding emanating from him as you had when he arrived on the rooftop. Kento smiled down at you, heartfelt and reassuring, pressing a folded pocket handkerchief to you before pulling your underwear back on over it. He kissed you delicately, from toe to knee while you giggled, before planting one lazy kiss and nuzzle onto your belly. You grasped his head there, scratching gently at his scalp with your fingernails.

"Stay with me, Kento. Just stay." You pressed, knowing in your gut that his decision was already made. His sigh creaked the leather of his harness with broad, corded tugs of his shoulders.

"They need help, underground. I'm one of the few First Grades available. It's only right that I go down there."

Kento's words, as always, rang with decisive finality. Before you could begin to talk again, he interrupted you smoothly.

"You will not come with me."

"You can't stop me."

"Shoko needs you. Your reverse cursed technique is second only to hers, and she's in need of support. It's the proper thing to do."

You squirmed with guilt, knowing you would choose to let Shoko suffer over Kento. Kento glowered down at you, stern, as if he hadn't just fallen apart inside you. You swallowed, a coil of doubt inside your belly.

"...don't be a hero, Kento." Kento frowned as if he didn't understand, and you insisted. "Don't be a hero. Get yourself out first. I mean it." Kento hesitated, looking out over the city lights, the breeze ruffling his mussed hair. He pulled his shirt back on, threading it under his harness.

"...alright." He lied. He paused. You both stood, sticky with each others' cum cooling between your legs. Nuzzling nose to nose, it felt so surreal to have to toss aside post-coital softness, in exchange for the cold embrace of battle.

"Go to Shoko," Kento whispered against your lips, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "and help her. Please. Do as I say."

"Promise you'll come back to me." You hushed into his kiss, beseeching him. He softened, deceptively reassuring, while hearing his clocktower chime.

"Always. I'm all yours. Always." Planting one lingering kiss to your forehead, you watched Kento's retreating back, his figure disappearing down the stairwell.

You wondered if you'd ever trust anyone other than Kento, over your own instincts.

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Shoko was surprised to see you, her cigarette drooping as she raised her thick, dark eyebrows.

"Kento told me you wanted me." You insisted. Shoko shot Yaga one questioning look. Yaga shrugged, arms folded.

"We haven't spoken to Kento all evening." Shoko assured. You felt a flash of panicked rage in your gut, knowing he'd lied to you. Knowing he was taking himself to an unwinnable battle. You grabbed Shoko by the arm.

"Where are they? His team? Where is he?"

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Kento was bloodied, missing an arm of his shirt, his vision obscured by the incessant bleed of a head wound. Pushing out of Dagon's domain, he knew he was exhausted, already skirting his limit. He felt a monstrous wave of Cursed energy, so much deadlier than his own.

A volcano-headed Curse approached him, its hand outstretched and hovering over Kento's abdomen. Naobito and Maki already smouldered in agony, and Kento felt the sickening weight of failure in his chest He had only a moment to protect himself, and he may have coated his body in Cursed-energy in its entirety, had he not filled his death-sentenced mind with thoughts of you.

He expected fire and flames...and felt you. When he protected his right half, you had arrived at the edge of a knife blade, and protected his left. The volcano-headed Curse faltered, stepping back with a scowl.

Kento looked down at you, knelt at his side in a braced position. His clock stopped chiming, in a moment of twisted fates reserved previously for the gods alone. He considered that you were, perhaps, a goddess, and he may be your vassal. You looked up at him, bristling with rage, and Kento's heart swelled.

"I'll tell you off later. For now...we have a fight to finish."

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By the end of the night, Itadori Yuuji had gained a brother and retained a beloved father figure. Nanami Kento cast his eyes over Choso with a hum of resignation, considering he may have another boy to look after, too. The patch-faced curse who may have been his executioner in another life, met its end. He witnessed an old friend who was not an old friend, cast a battle royale over the length of Japan.

Gazing in mute horror over the devastation left behind, Kento felt a hand slip into his own. His ears flushed red. He cleared his throat.

"I'm-- I'm so sorry--"

You laughed, your hands over your face. Kento's eyes glimmered with mirth. He plaited his fingers in yours, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, mumbling against them.

"My hero."

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astralnymphh · 8 months ago

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been having ellie williams eating pussy fixation lately, with references to a breeding kink (on readers side).. and breeding denial (on ellie's side).. self-indulgent tbh. witerally just a quickly written drabble. might elaborate another time. [ellie img from claymorrr on pinterest.] here we go! ☆

"E-Ellie— fuck, need 'ur fingers."

An airy sea, darksome and stuffy, eats the glass behind your thin curtains. In turn, the nooks that escape even the most most lurid of light in daytime, have shifted into that sea. Utterly. No silhouettes, no screens, no photo collages of you and her are bound to be seen. Quiet, homely ambiance is one of the things keeping your ears attentive to the bedroom around you, and what's happening inside of it.

Everything. Every sonant breath, every choked gasp, painted eerily— except Ellie.

Dim light a source at the head of your bed, only the shapes closest to it are palely painted. Auburn mane, cedar brown lashes, the heads of your knees, the head in-between them. Feasting sensually on the hallowed breeding grounds hot at the center of you, painted filthily in the sounds it made. Cradled in the perfect light, just enough for your pupils to zero in, and never zero out, consumed by the movement of her working her hungry muscle in and out of your drenched entrance.

"Huh," amused by your please-less plead, your clit is greeted with a scoff against it. "But you've got my tongue, don't need my fingers babe." that serene, soundproof whisper trying to convince you. So sure that what is given, is what will be taken.

Yet, a pit of greed takes root in your brain, and you find anything below the stretch of her painfully lacking.

As Ellie tucks her tongue back inside, lapping at your wetness, you pursue in tales of whines. "Wanna be full of you," leaves your bitten lips, higher-pitched and pulled across your teeth as that knot inside you responds to her tongue; swells on the mouthy sounds that come from it rolling stripes through your folds. Tighter, tighter, it tenses deliciously— and elapses before you can even focus on it, earning her but a frustrated huff out of you, "It's not enough."

"Don't wanna come on my tongue?"

Your hips snap forward for her once again withdrawn mouth anyway, afraid to loose any string of sensation. "Ellie," you fuss her name, and that pussy-eating grin of hers curls into a shit-eating one, laying her risen, pinched and dapple cheeks on the plush of your thigh. Annoyingly cute— just emphasize the annoying part.

"What's up?" clearly, she wants to get under your skin. Tenderly question you, deny, deny, ignite the sparks and quench herself on how cute you are. Grasping that something henpecks you to act so neglected and taking it into advantage like a sagacious cunt, bringing you to orgasm on her plan alone.

Unreserved, your lips.

"Want you t' get me pregnant," breathlessly muffled, humility has fled you. Dirty delights scorching at the hills of your cheeks, reach spoken ends at the tips of your tongue. "Els, I want you— you to.." the recital becomes lost in the haze of your head.

"Yeah?" her cheek tilts off your thigh.

"Yeah."

Her fingertips sunk in the crevice of your crotch and thigh, exert pressure, scooting you completely up to her chin. Silently setting up her answer; her play-along, earnest, and downturned eyes telling you to want otherwise. "Mhh, don't think you're ready for that. Knock you up on a whim? C'mon, babe"

Spoken replies don't necessarily represent gut truths, the telltale opposite answer present in her swallow. Ellie thinks, if she lets herself feed into that desire now— she won't stop.

"Just take my tongue, okay?"

Though weak, you agree, "Okay."

"Good girl," she grates, as if her throat had dried in pausing all attention from your pussy. Her hands float off your hips for a split second before smacking back down, admiring the way it ripples and jiggles the fat there, collecting her peachy, bottom lip beneath her top teeth and tugging it inside. Enamored with your cunt, and how it leaks sleek in the yearn for her fill, her claim, her name.

Her babies, even?

"So fuckin' pretty, gonna let me take my time? Fill you up when we're ready?" coos at it, reaching a lousy hand down to grope herself. In so doing, she brews a moan of her own ache she simmers at, "Fuck." and takes her free fingers as an opportunity to slap your folds, splaying your labia nastily with her index and ring, and hawking spit to your hole— honestly, just to watch it drip like syrup through your pussy lips.

She really is unreserved.

Cold when it hits— you twitch, but hotly-stirring when her tongue peeks out to smear it up to your clit, eyes shut with careful precision— you suck your stomach in.

"That's more like it."

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booasaur · 2 months ago

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I think there are some takeaways here, if we want to learn from this.

First: third-party voters were irrelevant. In no swing state did left-leaning third-party voters add up to enough to push Harris over.

Second: many progressive policies and politicians outperformed Harris.

Third: appealing to Republicans did not work.

It has never worked, in the US or in Europe, we've seen time and again that giving ground to right wing policies only legitimizes them and voters then prefer the original. For example, if you worry about immigration, and both sides are saying it's a problem, who do you trust more to handle it?

Fourth: polls were pretty accurate. There were months, years, really, of debate about polling being broken, which demographics were underrepresented, which were overrepresented, herding, hopes that they were overcorrecting for the last two misses on Trump, but they ended up closer than anybody wanted. Which also means that Biden would have lost by even worse.

Fifth: on the one hand, people should hopefully see this graphic and realize there's no minority to scapegoat:

On the other hand, I'm seeing a lot of people take it as a sign the country has simply shifted to the right in a huge, undeniable way that's depressing and ominous and feels hopeless. After all, Trump will win the popular vote by a lot, the first time a Republican has in decades.

However, this should be taken in conjunction with these numbers:

Now THIS is something that's open to further analysis and that can be worked with.

Why did so many Democrat voters not show up?

Here are some potential reasons for this, the truth most likely being a combination of at least several of them:

She's a Black-Indian woman. There's no denying the racism and misogyny among the US electorate, but given earlier polls where she was leading, I don't think this was the main or certainly only reason.

She was seen as too progressive/leftist. Again, by virtue of our racist, misogynistic electorate and our billionaire-owned media, Harris was seen as too extreme left by a lot of people, not just because of policies, but because inherently, her identity itself is extreme left to them. I personally don't think this was a crucial factor because, again, she had been leading when she was going stronger on the progressive messaging, other progressive policies and politicians outperformed her, and a lot of the people who think she's too extreme are Republicans who'd never vote for her. I just don't think it's a good enough reason for the millions of Democrats who didn't show.

Palestine. There's a coalition of pro-Palestine people, not just Muslims and Arab Americans but leftists and other POC too, but numerically, their vote for third parties made no difference. Did enough shift to Trump or not show up at all? Certainly in Michigan they swung to the right, but would that have made a difference? Did they matter in other less tangible ways, e.g., a lot of the same active progressives who'd have been out campaigning simply voted quietly for Harris and left it at that? How much of a distraction was this for Dems, having to constantly address Gaza as opposed to putting forth their own policies, and did it contribute to the overall perception of them being incompetent and weak and bringing chaos when people were tired of it? I think Palestine did have an effect, but enough to swing it overall...?

Not being progressive enough. A lot of people will point to Palestine and immigration, the decision to campaign with Liz Cheney and Mark Cuban and court Republican moderates, stifling Walz, and various other shifts that abandoned the left for the center and then the left didn't show up while the center went for Republicans as they always do, but the left isn't that large. I think, if this one point is a factor, it's more that it was simply difficult for normal voters to show up when they didn't really know what the candidate stood for, aside from "more of the same" and "not Trump".

Biden. When you have a ton of people unhappy with where the country is going, including their biggest priority, the economy, being tied to an unpopular incumbent was going to be tough, especially when, as a Black-Indian woman, she would be judged as disloyal if she broke too much from him. Nevertheless... People were unhappy with him and his administration.

Ultimately, I think there's a lot to learn and I hope Dems will.

I think we're in for a tough time and we're going to need community and solidarity, not fighting among ourselves.

#us politics #kamala harris

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finelinefae · 10 months ago

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camping [pilot!harry x teacher!yn]

synopsis: It’s the 1950s. Harry and Y/N leave the air base to go on a camping trip in July and their feelings are all over the place.

word count: 13.2k (!?)

contains: friends to lovers, opposites attract, violence, nightmares, flirting, smoking, fluff, smut (breeding kink, size kink, she's on top, cockwarming *if you squint*), forced proximity

this is part 2 of the aviator, you can read part 1 here

. . .

“Leave me alone Harry!” Y/N stormed several paces in front of him, hugging her arms around herself to try and keep herself warm.

“Birdy, c’mon now, it’s not what y’ think it is.” Harry kept his distance behind her but had been following her home since she stormed off after she’d caught him with her housemate, Nancy.

“Quit calling me that! And will you stop following me?” She spun round and he immediately froze in his steps.

“Promised I’d walk y’ home,” He shrugged, “Not gonna let y’ walk home in the dark alone.”

“I’d probably be better off,” Y/N huffed, crossing her arms.

“Will y’ let me explain?” Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. Y/N opened her mouth to say something but he carried on talking, “I won’t quit following y’ if that’s what y’ gonna say and the view of the back of y’ head is just as pretty as the front so there’s no way y’ gonna stop me. I just… Will you let me explain? Please?”

Y/N scoffs like she can’t believe what she’s hearing right now. What would it take for him to take a message and leave her be? “You’re not used to hearing the word no are you?”

“I respect it but doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop trying. God, especially not with you.” Every part of him seemed serious. Y/N’s shoulders dropped and he took it as a sign to continue, “Me and Nancy we have history tha’s for sure,” He started and the words made Y/N’s chest ache, “But we only slept together a couple times before Christmas tha’s all. She came out and found me smoking and I realised she was a ‘lil drunk. I tried to pull her off me but she wasn’t having it, said she saw me outside with y’ and got upset.”

Y/N frowned, unsure of whether to believe him or not, “Listen, I know you’ve heard things about me but-” He dug his heel into the ground and chuckled lightly, “I ain’t ever felt the way I did back there when I kissed y’ Y/N and I’m not jus’ saying that.”

Y/N felt some of the anger dissipate from her body, replaced by pure frustration. She hadn't come to Offutt to get tangled up in a mess with a man she barely knew, yet here she was. Nancy's revelation about having her sights set on a man hit Y/N like a ton of bricks. If she had known it was Harry, she might never have kissed him in the first place. She hardly knew Harry beyond their brief interactions and the hearsay from her housemates. How could she trust him? Yet, despite her doubts, there was one undeniable truth: the kiss they had shared lingered vividly in her mind. The taste of peppermint and cigarettes still clung to her lips, a tangible reminder of their brief encounter. It was a moment that now intertwined her with him in a way she wasn't expecting.

Y/N huffed, “And what? I’m just meant to believe you now. Take your word for it and run into your arms and kiss you again?”

“That’d be nice, yeah.” Harry smiled, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

Y/N shook her head, trying to process everything Harry had just said. Despite her frustration and confusion, there was a part of her that wanted to believe him. She knew deep down that she couldn't deny the chemistry they shared during that kiss, but she also couldn't ignore the uncertainty punching at her gut.

"Harry, I... I don't know what to think," Y/N admitted, her voice softer now, lacking the edge of anger from before. "I want to trust you, but it's hard after everything that's happened and what’s been said. I-I don’t know you that well is all."

Harry stepped closer, his expression earnest. "I understand, Birdy. And I don't expect you to trust me blindly. But hey maybe we could start as friends, get to know each other better before anything else, if that would make y' comfortable."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, considering his suggestion. The idea of starting as friends seemed more sensible, given the circumstances. "Friends?"

"Yeah, friends," Harry confirmed a hopeful glint in his eyes. "No expectations, just getting to know each other without any pressure."

Y/N nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Alright, I like that idea.”

Harry grinned, relieved that she seemed to be willing to give him a chance. "Well, you need more of ‘em.”

Y/N’s smile disappeared, “I do not! I have plenty of friends.”

“The girls at the nursery don’t count,” Harry smirks, “And neither does Elise.”

“Whatever,” Y/N muttered, spinning on her heel to continue her journey home. She heard Harry’s footsteps jogging up to meet her and was surprised to feel his jacket being placed over her shoulders.

Harry put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. Y/N’s heart stuttered, “Friends don’t do that you know.” She grumbled, pretending to act grumpy around him in hopes it would hide the fact that she was most definitely swooning inside.

“Oh? I do it with my friends all the time. Sometimes I kiss them on the lips too, we can try if y’ want-” Y/N looked up at him, glaring, “Alright then, another time.”

Y/N let Harry walk her the remainder of the way home, feeling a little more at peace with the fact she would be welcoming him into her life, even if it was just as friends for now. She hoped it would be enough to get to know him and eventually, she’d trust him enough to allow their relationship to blossom into something more and hopefully sometime soon because when Harry had left her on the doorstep of her house, she knew she’d be dreaming of that kiss every time she looked at him.

Y/N closed the door as gently as she could, pressing her forehead against the wooden frame. She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding before walking into the kitchen where Nancy was standing, “How’d you get home so quickly?” Y/N asked, unable to meet her hard stare.

“Harry must have taken you the long way home.” She shrugged pushing her chair back from the table, the legs of her chair scraping against the tiled ground.

“I-I didn’t know Harry was the guy you were talking about Nancy,” Y/N said truthfully.

“Would it have made any difference?” Nancy asked, a bite to her tone.

Y/N sighed, “All this was never my decision. Harry asked me to the dance, I-I didn't know it was going to be such a big deal.”

“Harry loves attention from any girl who bats her eyelashes and twirls her hair.” Nancy glared, “You don’t make the exception.”

Y/N straightened her shoulders, “What if I do?” She wasn’t going to allow herself to be belittled by another woman over a man she had just met.

Nancy snickered, “Are you that entitled?”

“Harry’s smart enough to make his own decisions Nancy and I’m not going to be involved in whatever petty game you think this is. Not only is it up to him to decide who he likes but it’s my decision too and if he’s not with anybody then I can decide whether I should be allowed to get to know him or not.” Y/N declared.

Nancy narrowed her eyes, “I’m not trying to compete with you but I’d be careful if I were you. If you’re planning on standing so close to the fire prepared to get burnt. Those Styles boys have their things going on. Harry hasn't the faintest idea of what to do with a girl outside of the bedroom. I've known him long enough for that.”

“Maybe you don’t know him that well.”

“Maybe,” Nancy shrugged, “Maybe you can tell me all about it when you realise he’s not all he says he is.”

“Why do you want him if you have no faith in him?” Y/N asked.

“I said I had my eye on him, not that I planned on settling down with him. Every girl wants to sleep with him and not only because he’s Offutt’s best pilot, he’s the only man who knows what he’s doing.” Nancy stands from her chair, “I won’t compete but I don’t particularly enjoy being proven wrong.” She moved past her, leaving Y/N standing in the kitchen.

. . .

As winter turned to spring and spring into summer, Y/N and Harry's friendship seemed to blossom with the seasons. They had developed a type of bond that neither of them had with anybody else and through it they learnt more about themselves and each other. Ever since the night they began their relationship, there was never a moment where Y/N wasn’t seen with the brunette aviator walking beside her.

Even Harry’s brothers had come to enjoy Y/N's company. Somehow she had taken on this maternal presence within their family dynamic that none of the siblings had ever really had before. Sonny had taken a particular liking to having Y/N around, enjoying the free time he had now that Y/N would sometimes volunteer to put Elise to bed in the evenings.

Along with Harry’s brothers, also came Y/N’s housemates Molly and Patsy. She had become good friends with them too in the last few months and now she finally had her own little girl group to hang out with (they’d often include Elise in that group too).

The group had become their own little, dysfunctional family on Offutt.

Even though their friendship was meant to be the start of something more, Y/N and Harry hadn’t spoken much about that night at the dance since it had happened. Even with Harry’s flirtatious teasing from time to time, Y/N couldn’t help but feel that something had happened between them like this friendship had created a strange liminal space between them that held so many questions. She loved the current dynamic - the comfort everyone shared, even amidst their occasional bickering. It made her wonder if this was how it was supposed to be, and perhaps Harry thought so too.

However, her feelings for Harry continued to grow stronger with every passing day. She would dream of the kiss they shared and wake up with a strong ache in her chest at the idea that it would never happen again. Every day she tried to coax herself into talking to him about how she felt and every day she’d get distracted or put off by doubts and the voice in the back of her head warning her, telling her enough time had passed that maybe Harry didn’t have feelings for her anymore which is why he never bought them up.

It was July now and the girls were sitting eating breakfast in the kitchen. Y/N was nibbling on a piece of slightly burnt toast as Molly rambled on about how busy her day was going to be down at the hairdresser with her hair rollers still in her hair.

Opposite Y/N at the table sat Nancy, who had hardly spoken since waking up. She was dressed to the nines, her hair perfectly curled, and her uniform immaculately pressed. The tension between the two girls lingered from the dance night. It was clear Nancy was prepared to do anything for Harry's attention, even if he didn't see it. While Nancy seemed distant, Y/N tried to keep things friendly, despite the awkwardness between them. They had to live with each other after all.

Y/N had seen Nancy and Harry alone together a few times and even if it filled her with an insatiable amount of jealousy, she wouldn’t allow herself to get involved with whatever went on between them. This wasn’t a competition she was taking part in, her feelings were her own and so were Nancy's. What mattered was her own relationship with Harry because it had slowly become the most important thing in her life.

The front door burst open, Sonny’s voice boomed down the hallway, “Good morning ladies!”

“Is anyone ever going to teach those boys how to knock?” Molly grumbled, standing from the table to lean against the kitchen counter, “I oughta start locking that front door before I go to bed.”

Y/N looked down to hide her smile as three grown men, dressed in overalls and white t-shirts walked into the room, one of them holding the small toddler in his arms. “Give me the baby!” Patsy launched from her chair and reached for Elise, smothering the girl in kisses.

“Can I have a turn, Patsy?” Sonny asked, batting his eyelashes playfully.

“You wish,” Patsy glared.

“Morning Nancy,” George grinned, only to receive a curt nod in return, “Good morning George, y’ sure are looking mighty fine in tha’ uniform of yours,” George remarked, his voice slightly mocking, delivered in a high pitch to tease her.

Nancy stood from her seat, glaring up at the tall brother in front of her, “Good morning George, do you mind getting out of my way? I’ve got work to do, unlike some people.”

“How could y’ say that? I’m always working,” He argued.

“Cigarettes and arm wrestling during work hours do not count as working.” Nancy picked her bag up from under her chair.

“Know y’ like watching though darlin’.” He smirked and Nancy scoffed, shoving past him and leaving the house.

“Y’ oughta be careful with that one George,” Molly smirked, taking out a cigarette and offering one to him.

“She’s all good,” He shrugged, his eyes on the seat Nancy had been sitting in.

Y/N’s smile dropped when someone snatched the piece of toast she was eating from her hand. She looked up and was met with green eyes looking down at her, a lazy grin on the face she saw every day, “Hi birdy,” His voice was always deeper than usual in the mornings

“Hi Harry,” Y/N grinned.

He grabbed the empty chair that Nancy had been sitting in and lifted it from the tiled floor to sit next to her. His eyes flitted around her face, and the corner of his lips turned upwards, “You’ve got jam-” He reached his thumb out and wiped away the jam from the corner of her lips. Y/N’s cheeks tinged pink, “There y’ go.”

“Thanks,” Y/N murmured, looking away from his intense gaze.

“No problem,” He smirked, “Y’ look beautiful by the way.”

Harry said the same thing almost every morning and Y/N never failed to blush whenever he told her the compliment. “I only woke up thirty minutes ago, I haven’t even run a brush through my hair.”

“And you still look beautiful. It’s unfair birdy, truly it is.” He sighed, shaking his head dramatically.

Y/N giggled, “You’re such an idiot.”

“So what brings you boys here so early? Ran out of food back home?” Molly asked, reaching for Elise since apparently, it was her time to hold her.

“We’re going off base with some of the guys later to the town to buy camping gear for the trip,” Sonny explained, taking a sip of black coffee from Patsy’s mug.

“What happened to the stuff from last year?” Molly quirked a brow, “It was perfectly fine when we left it.”

Harry reached for Y/N’s hand and mindlessly played with her fingers as people spoke. George shrugs, “There’s more of us going this year so either way we need more tents.”

"What are you talking about?" She asked, turning to Harry for an explanation.

All eyes turned to her, then to Harry, their expressions puzzled. George's frown deepened. "You never told her?"

Y/N's gaze remained fixed on Harry, waiting for his response as he dropped her hand onto his lap.

"Every year on the last week of July, a huge group of us go camping down at Harpers Lake," Sonny explained. "It's a five-hour hike, and we camp out for two nights. We're all going this year, and we thought Harry over there already told you about it, but clearly he didn't."

Y/N's eyes narrowed slightly. "I thought Molly would have told you," Harry admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

Y/N's eyes darted around at everyone's faces as they looked at her expectantly, "I-I don't know if I'll get time off at the nursery," Y/N stuttered, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over her.

"Hey, I'm sure someone'll cover for you," Harry reassured her with a shrug. "If you don't go, I won't go either."

"Harry," she huffed, unable to resist the warmth in his eyes. "What about Elise? Who will take care of her?"

"Elise is coming, of course," Sonny piped in. "You think the Styles go anywhere without each other?"

Y/N glanced at Harry, her heart softening at his earnest expression. He gently picked up her hand again, squeezing her fingers lightly as if to persuade her to come with them. Harry's gaze held hers, his voice soft but determined. "If you’re worried about skipping work, it’ll be fine. We'll figure that out together, Birdy. I promise."

“I hate camping,” Y/N confessed, the corner of his lips quirking.

“But y’ haven’t camped with me yet.” He smirked as if doing anything with him was the solution to everything.

Y/N’s shoulders sagged, “Okay, fine.” She relented, falling into their persuasion. Though the idea of camping was her worst nightmare, being with Harry off-base seemed to make it bearable.

Eventually, everyone left to start their day of work. Y/N took Elise into her arms and made her way down to the nursery, “Y/N!” Harry called, she turned and saw him running up to them from down the road. “Y’ not mad at me are you?”

Y/N frowned, “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Y’ know,” He stood straight, scratching the back of his neck, something he always did when he was nervous or about to say something sincere, “Because I didn’t tell you about the camping trip. I was meant to but every time I’m with y’ all the things I plan to say just seem to slip from my mind.”

Y/N’s face softens, “No I’m not mad at you Harry. I mean, I wish I could have found out sooner, but if you say it’ll be fine, I’ll believe you.”

Harry grinned, a dimple carving into his cheek, “Y’ believe me huh?” He took a step forward until he stood directly in front of her.

Y/N’s heart stuttered at the proximity, “Y-yeah, I do.” She murmurs.

Harry’s hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, “Y’ might be the only one.” He whispers his breath minty from the gum he was chewing on.

His eyes darted to her lips and then back up again. Even though they were outside, Y/N felt the oxygen slipping from the space around her until a tiny, chubby hand swatted Harry’s face out of the way, “No!” Elise yells and starts to ramble.

Harry’s expression shifted, his features softening with amusement. He grabs Elise’s hand and starts pressing kisses to the inside of her palm, “What do y’ mean no? Y’ don’t like it when I speak to my best friend? ‘S that because you’re my best friend Elise?” Harry teases, pretending to bite her small hand.

Y/N giggles, “It seems I’m always competing with somebody for your attention.” She jokes but Harry’s smile falters.

“Y’ don’t need to do that,” He murmurs, “Y’ too special to me to do that.”

Elise carried on rambling as Y/N remained silent, surprised by Harry’s words. That classic, flirtatious grin reappeared once more on Harry's face as he pressed a quick kiss to Elise’s cheek and then Y/N’s too, “I’ll see you later, baby girl.” He said to Elise.

He walked backwards, eyes fixed on Y/N, “I’ll see both my best girl’s later!” He winked and then turned around.

“Your brother is stupid,” Y/N said to Elise.

“Ha, Ha!” Elise pointed at her brother who disappeared around the corner, calling him the name she always called him since she couldn’t say his full name properly yet.

“Ha Ha indeed,” Y/N sighed, making her way to the nursery.

. . .

The camping trip had been a tradition in Offutt for the last ten years or so. Harry had been with his brothers ever since he had come to Offutt. He mostly enjoyed it for the fact that he got to spend time away from the Air Base. He didn’t do very much other than smoke cigarettes and maybe sleep with one or two people if he felt like it.

This time though felt different. Harry had never been this excited about a camping trip before, especially not with Y/N. It had been ages since he anticipated anything, but the thought of spending two entire nights with the girl who had completely transformed his life was exhilarating enough to have him willingly sleeping in a tent out in the wilderness.

They were into the final hour of the hike to Harper’s Lake. The sun was beating down on their faces and Y/N and Harry were way behind the rest of the group. Y/N had been huffing and puffing ever since the halfway point of the trail. It had kept Harry rather amused during what was often a long and boring walk.

Harry walked in front wearing a white vest and cargo trousers, an unlit cigarette dangling between his lips and a silver dog tag around his neck. Y/N was walking behind him, beating bushes with a big stick as she walked by them.

“Y’ keep beating up those bushes back there darling and they’ll start shouting back to y’.” Harry smiled to himself as he heard her mumbles. “You dawdling back there?”

“No,” Y/N snaps, “I do not dawdle thank you.” Her feet were slipping. She didn’t have decent shoes to wear and Harry had already had to stop twice to put bandages on both her knees which was probably why they were so behind from the rest of the group.

“Why couldn’t we just fly? You’re a pilot Harry, can’t you go get us a plane?”

“Y’ want me to get a military plane to fly us to a lake so that y’ don’t have to get all hot and bothered 'cause you’re walking, is that right birdy?” Harry holds back a laugh.

“Well, I don’t see the point in flying planes if you’re not gonna use them.” She mumbles.

Harry stops and turns around to look at her. She’s wearing a shirt that’s too big for her and shorts on her small legs. He let her borrow his flight cap so she didn’t get sunburnt but it was too big for her head so it covered her eyes. “Are y’ asking for a lift up the hill?”

Y/N fell silent, her gaze drifting past him to the peak of the hill. She nodded quietly. Harry chuckled, dropping his bag to the ground. Turning around, he squatted and gestured behind him, arms outstretched. "Hop on, birdy."

“Are you sure? What if I'm too heavy.” Y/N says.

“I’m only offering once so I’d make the most of it if I were you.” He teased and waited for her to jump on his back.

He heard her feet tread along the ground before stopping behind him. She put her body weight onto him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, “Y’ won’t drop me, will you? Because it’s not gonna be funny if you do.”

“Never,” he promised, lifting himself off the ground. Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist and he picked up his bag off the floor. “How’s the view up there birdy?”

“Pretty,” she said, her lips close to his ear.

“I bet,” he said to himself before tracking up the hill.

The lake glimmered in the sunlight, surrounded by birch and willow trees. Y/N had never seen something so beautiful before as she looked over Harry’s head to see where they’d be staying the next few nights. Her feet hit the floor as Harry released her from his grip. There were around thirty people from the base who had come along on the trip and were already deciding where they were going to set up their camping spots.

Y/N glanced around to spot her friends only to find them already bickering with each other in a shaded spot away from everyone else. Patsy and Molly were sharing a tent, while Sonny and George were setting up theirs with Elise. Harry had his own tent, and Y/N had bought a separate one as well. “Hey Patsy, have you seen my tent?” Y/N glanced around the floor where everyone had thrown their bags.

“No, I thought you would have taken it.” Patsy shrugged.

“Me too,” Y/N huffed, looking through her backpack to see if she had packed the small tent she had bought.

“Have you lost it?” Molly asked. Y/N frantically shoved some of the bags out of the way, hoping to spot it somewhere, until the realisation hit her like a ton of bricks.

It was sitting on the couch in the living room of her house, five hours away from where they were camping.

“You left it at home?” Sonny burst out laughing, Y/N’s cheeks flushing red.

“It’s not funny Sonny,” Patsy whacked him on the shoulder, “Where’s she meant to sleep?"

“With me.” A voice spoke, and Y/N turned around to see Harry standing with aviator sunglasses covering his eyes.

“W-what?” Y/N stuttered as if she couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Well unless y’ wanna sleep with Elise, Birdy, the only other option is with me.” He shrugs as if it was no big deal that he was offering her to sleep in his one-man tent.

“I-I can sleep with Elise,” She noticed how no one was saying anything or coming up with other ideas for her sleeping arrangement. She could have sworn she saw her two housemates giggling in the corner of her eye.

"And I could sleep with Elise too, but you know why I don’t?" Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "It's because all three of my siblings seem to have inherited a gene that I missed out on. Trust me, Birdy, you don’t wanna sleep in a tent with a snoring swing band the whole night."

Harry reached out and gently tugged her hand, “We’ve slept in the same room before.”

“Yeah but you slept on the floor,” She crossed her arms, trying to think of any other way she could sleep without having to share a small space with the guy she had feelings for. Y/N glanced around at her friends who immediately went about fixing their own tents as if they hadn’t stopped to watch the whole ordeal. She sighed, “Fine.”

Y/N brushed past Harry. He quickly snatched off his hat she was wearing and placed it on his own head, grinning, “It’ll be fun,”

By the time they had set up the tent, it had dawned on Y/N exactly what she had agreed to. The tent was barely large enough for one person, let alone two, and with Harry's muscular frame, she couldn't fathom how they were meant to sleep without being practically on top of each other.

As Y/N unravelled her sleeping bag, Harry’s head peaked through the entrance, “A few of us are borrowing bikes to head to the nearest gas station to buy things for the barbecue if y’ wanna come.”

Y/N nodded, “Just give me a second and I’ll be right out.” He nodded and paused as though he wanted to say something else before shaking his head and leaving. Y/N released a sigh and pushed back her hair wondering how she even got into this mess in the first place.

Harry was standing by two bikes, holding Elise in his arms, “A few of ‘em already went ahead.”

“I didn’t know Elise was gonna be here,” Y/N cooed and pinched the two-year-old's chubby cheek. Harry’s eyes warmed before he placed her in the basket of his bicycle. “Is that safe?” Y/N frowned.

“Course it is,” He shrugged.

Soon they were riding side by side with Elise squealing in the basket of Harry’s bike, her small fingers gripping onto the front of the basket as the wind blew through her hair. Y/N’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much as she watched the two year old laugh and scream with excitement.

Eventually they pulled over into the gas station. Y/N held Elise as Harry grabbed the things they needed for the barbecue, “Do y’ wanna ice cream Elise?” Y/N gasped, taking her to the freezer to pick out an ice cream.

Elise squealed and babbled incoherently as she picked the most colourful ice pop in the whole freezer. Y/N picked out two for herself and Harry to have since it was so hot out and they still needed to ride back to the campsite again.

They sat under a grouping of trees, Elise inbetween Harry’s legs as he helped her eat her ice pop. He’d have to wipe her chin every now and then with how sloppy she was when eating, “There y’ go baby girl, that ice pop ain’t going anywhere,” Harry chuckled as Elise gripped the ice pop in two hands.

Y/N smiled to herself as she watched the two of them interact, Elise’s adorable antics continuing to amuse them both. She couldn’t help but think about how strangely normal this all felt. Despite the little time they had known the Styles’ siblings, it felt like they had known each other for much longer. The ease with which they connected, the laughter shared between them—it all felt so natural, as if they were meant to be together in that moment.

Harry’s eyes lingered on Y/N’s face with a hint of a smile on his lips, “What’s going on in that head of yours Birdy?”

Y/N smiled, “Nothing, I’m just happy.”

Harry looked surprised, “Y’ are?”

“Yeah,” She nodded, “I am. Are you?”

Harry thought for a moment, “Yeah Birdy,” He grinned, dimples popping, “I am.”

Their exchanged smiles lingered for a moment longer before Harry stood up, “We should probably start heading back before the sun goes down.”

“Yeah,” Y/N sighs, she could have stayed right there in that moment for a little longer but she knew they needed to get back to feed the others.

They picked up their bikes off the floor and began their journey back, stealing glances at each other when the other one wasn’t looking. Y/N’s heart fluttered everytime he caught her eye and looked away bashfully.

After eating and staying out to talk to her friends, Y/N was already ready for bed and wrapped up in her sleeping bag. She was wearing her pyjamas and an eye mask on top of her head. She wanted to make sure she was the first person in the tent so that she could be the first one to claim her space.

She tried to relax but her heart was racing when she heard Harry’s voice from outside as he said goodnight to his little sister in the tent next door. Y/N randomly picked up a book she had bought with her and pretended to read as the entrance to the tent lifted open and Harry crawled in.

He was in nothing but a pair of shorts, his tattooed torso completely bare, “Normally I’d wear less than this but since the lady’s present,” He smirked.

Y/N scoffed, “How kind,”

There was nothing but the rustling of his sleeping bag as he crawled into the tight spot next to him. Y/N’s eyes widened when she felt his arm right next to hers as they lay side by side in such close proximity. She immediately sat up, looking down at his relaxed state, “What?” He frowned.

“Can’t you move over a little?” She huffed, even though they both knew there wasn’t exactly anywhere to move.

His head turned, “Where exactly?”

“I-I don’t know!” She exclaimed.

Harry smiled as though he were amused by her franticness, “Oh c’mon Birdy, I don’t bite. I mean I may get a little bit touchy in the night but that’s no fault of my own.”

“Harry,” She sighed.

His expression faltered. "Fine," he muttered. Reaching beside him, he retrieved the blanket he had stowed away. Sitting up, he rolled it up and placed it between them. Y/N settled back down, the blanket now forming a barrier between them. Though it sacrificed some space, she found herself feeling a bit more at ease with the added distance.

“Thank you,” She sighed.

“Mhm,” Harry huffed.

A silence settled between them. Y/N, exhausted from the hike, found herself unable to drift off to sleep quickly. Her mind raced as she listened to the man beside her breathing softly. "Y' trust me, don't you, birdy?" he whispered into the darkness.

She thought for a moment, “More than I did before.”

“But not completely?” Harry’s voice seemed sad, almost defeated.

She said nothing, wondering what she could say. Of course she trusted him, he had been nothing but good to her these last few months and proved to her he wasn’t what most people said he was. Even if he was a flirt and enjoyed attention from time to time, he was loyal to the people he held close in his life and she adored that about him.

“You’re getting there,” She whispered but the truth was he was already there. She just didn’t know if she trusted herself.

Y/N woke up in the middle of the night when she felt something jolt next to her. Groggy and disoriented, she blinked in the darkness, trying to make sense of her surroundings. As her eyes adjusted, she realised that Harry was stirring restlessly, his breathing ragged and uneven.

“H-Harry?” Y/N sat up, the sleeping bag falling to her waist. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm to shake him, “Harry wake up,” She urged, voice laced with concern.

She noticed how he had begun to shiver, his arm covered in goosebumps. Y/N reached to put her hand gently against his forehead and hoped that her touch would provide some warmth to his shivering body. “Harry, you’re dreaming, it’s just a dream.” She tried to coax him out of his sleep without scaring him more than he already was.

Harry's eyes snapped open, wide with fear as he gasped for breath. His chest heaved with each ragged breath, and Y/N could see the remnants of tears glistening in his eyes.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Y/N murmured soothingly, her heart aching at the sight of Harry's distress, “You just had a nightmare that’s all.”

Harry's breathing gradually slowed as he focused on Y/N's voice, the warmth of her presence calming whatever dark thing that lurked inside of him. With a shaky exhale, his head fell, “Fuck,” He hissed, “Did I wake y’ up?” He looked up at her, his eyes tired and sad. Y/N warily nodded her head, “M sorry, M so sorry.”

“Hey, Harry, it's fine. It’s okay.” She reached out to wrap her arms around his shoulders, she could feel a thin layer of cold sweat on his back as her palm pressed against his shoulder.

Harry took the opportunity to bury his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the floral scent of her perfume as if it would be enough to bring him back from whatever memory he was trapped in. Y/N wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as she whispered words of reassurance. She gently stroked his hair, feeling the tension slowly melt away from his body.

“It was real,” Harry whispered.

“W-what?” Y/N pulled away, still holding him.

“M-my old man left me out in the cold one night when I tried to stop him from hurting my Mama. He kicked me out in the backyard and locked the door behind him like I was some old dog.” He spat the words out, full of anger.

Y/N’s eyes welled with tears, “He hurt you?”

Harry exhaled shakily, as though he was trying not to cry, “Y-yeah he did Birdy, real bad.” The way he said it made Y/N believe it wasn’t the only time his father had hurt him.

Y/N swallowed back her tears, her throat burning. She held his face in her hands and forced him to look right at her, “Y’ might have to be big and brave for your brothers and Elise but y’ can be whatever you want with me.” She murmured, “I won’t let anything hurt you, Harry.”

His eyes softened, something flashed in them as Y/N moved her face closer to kiss his cheek, tasting the saltiness of his dried tears. “God where have y’ been all my life birdy?” He whispered, their lips inches apart.

“It doesn’t matter,” She shook her head, “I’m here now.”

Y/N made space for Harry to lay back down, but he couldn't seem to let go of her. She noticed how he held onto her hand whenever she tried to move away. So, she removed the rolled-up blanket between them and unzipped the tops of both of their sleeping bags. Once they were lying next to each other, she placed the blanket on top of them for extra warmth.

Harry’s arms reached out for her and he didn’t even ask before he was holding her close to his chest. She could hear the beating of his heart as her ear pressed against it. “Y’ not afraid are you?” She asked, peering up at him to see his eyes closed gently.

“No, that's just how it goes whenever I’m around you. Y’ get used to it after a while, don’t worry.” He murmured.

Y/N’s heart seemed to pick up pace until it matched his own, “Okay.” She whispered and fell asleep in his arms.

The next morning, Y/N awoke in the embrace of Harry who was still fast asleep. She thought back to last night and how she had never seen him so afraid before. She pressed a kiss to his cheek when she sat up and tried to leave the tent without making much of a noise.

She reached for her sweater and pulled it over her torso so she wouldn’t get cold from the morning air. “Good morning sunshine!” Molly grinned, “How’d your first night with the pilot go?”

Patsy giggled, “Yeah how’d it go?”

Y/N bit back a smile, “It was nothing like that and you know it.” She said but they weren’t accepting it as an answer.

George smirked, “I better not wake up an uncle by tomorrow morning.”

Y/N’s mouth gaped open, she hit him on the arm playfully and grabbed a carton of orange juice from the crate, “I’m two months older than you so I’d be careful!” She glared.

“Ha! Ha!” Elise grinned, her mouth covered in yogurt as she stood and stumbled over to Y/N’s tent.

"Good morning, baby girl," Harry's raspy voice greeted, a hint of strain evident as he lifted Elise into his arms, “Y’ sure are a little mess, madam.” He chuckled.

Y/N tried to resist the urge to look at him as everyone greeted him with a good morning. She settled into one of the camping chairs, folding her legs beneath her, but soon a shadow loomed over her, blocking the sun, “Good morning Birdy,” His voice was deep and raspy.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes, “Morning Harry.”

“Where’d y’ go? Left me cold in tha’ tent this morning y’ know?” Multiple snorts came from the group around them.

“I-I was-” She didn’t know what to say and she was pretty sure her face was the colour of a tomato.

“Wake me up next time, yeah?” He smirks, leaving her to grab some of the coffee Molly had made.

“Oh, so there’s a next time huh?” George winked.

Y/N cleared her throat, feeling flustered from the interaction. "So, what's everyone doing today?" She attempted to change the subject, wondering if there would ever be a moment on this trip where she wouldn't be embarrassed by something she wasn’t expecting.

. . .

Y/N didn’t see Harry for the rest of the morning as the girls got ready to go swim in the lake for the afternoon. Due to the tent mishap, Y/N was worried she’d forgotten her bathing suit as well but luckily found it at the bottom of her bag.

Molly was already in a blue, plaid halter one-piece that tied around her neck and Patsy was wearing a yellow one with a bow on the front. Y/N stepped out of the tent after getting changed, “Oh no, you can’t wear that.” Molly was the first to comment.

Y/N frowned, looking down at her plain black and white striped swimsuit, “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” Molly pulled the cigarette from her lips, “Honey y’ look like a crosswalk in upstate New York.” Patsy snorted.

“It’s not that bad,” She huffed, reaching for the suntan lotion only for Molly to snatch it from her grasp.

“Honey, this trip isn’t just a relaxing break for our pilots - it’s also the chance for us ladies to get a little something out of it. Think about it, all those men do is work and all we do is sit around waiting for some excitement. Y’ think Patsy and I want to camp in tents? Y’ think we want to hike up hills? No of course not, most of the ladies here come because they want a little fun. They want to flirt and be romanced by a pilot who we might never see again.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, “Really?”

“Really,” Patsy nodded.

Molly brushed past her and walked to her tent to pull out something from her bag, “Y’ lucky I’m an overpacker.” She unfolded the material and held up a red, polka dot swimsuit with a sweetheart neckline and a scoop back.

“I can’t wear that!” Y/N almost gasped, she couldn’t help but look around to see if anyone saw.

Molly rolled her eyes, “You don’t think we’ve all seen you with Harry? He’s head over heels for you! Put this on and I guarantee you’ll be thanking yourself for forgetting that tent.”

Y/N hesitated, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. The thought of Harry's reaction to seeing her in such a swimsuit sent a flutter of anticipation through her stomach. With a playful roll of her eyes, she took the swimsuit from Molly's outstretched hand. "Fine, but only because you're relentless."

Harry was already by the lake with his brothers and some of the other pilots working on Offutt. He was lying on a towel with his sunglasses on and swimming trunks hanging on his hips, smoking a cigarette. “Oh shit, I didn’t know Nancy was coming on this trip,” George said, taking a swig of his glass bottled beer as he sat down. Nancy was sitting with a group of friends, lounging on the dock, “She sure is something in that swimsuit, H. Would y’ look at her- pure sunlight she is.”

Harry chuckled, “Yeah, sunlight, sure. Think you’ve had one too many of those beers George. Why don’t y’ go over and talk to her?”

“Are you kidding me? She spews venom every time I try to talk to her.” George says, “And she likes you more anyway. I don’t know why though, everybody knows you’re with Y/N.”

Harry’s ears perk at the mention of her name, “What are you talking about? We’re not together.”

“Uhuh, keep talking and your nose will get bigger than it already is,”

Harry sits up to lightly hit his brother but he pauses when he sees his mouth drop open, “What are you staring at?” Harry turns around, following George’s gaze.

That's when he notices Molly and Patsy approaching, both clad in their swimsuits. Yet, it's not them who have captured the attention of not only George but seemingly everyone else as well. Y/N walks in between them in a swimsuit that reveals the soft skin of her thighs and the curve of her breasts from the low neckline. Her hair is pinned up and tied with a red ribbon, her smile so bright it overtook the light from the sun.

Harry felt a rush of breathlessness as he removed his sunglasses, unable to tear his gaze away from Y/N. "Have mercy," he muttered to himself, rising from the ground and striding over to the girls, with Sonny and George trailing behind him.

The girls laid their towels out on the ground as the boys were walking over, “Looking swell Patsy,” Sonny’s eyes were fixed on her cleavage.

“My eyes are up here Sonny,” Patsy spoke, monotonously.

Harry ignored everyone else as he stepped in front of Y/N. Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at him. He felt his cock stir in his swim shorts as she licked her bottom lip, sending a jolt of heat through him. Harry knew he needed to get a grip on himself before things got out of hand.

He glanced around and noticed eyes staring at the girl in front of him, “Hi Birdy,”

Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “H-Hi Harry,” She stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you saving this swimsuit for someone or?” He smirked, wanting to get a rise out of her. He liked seeing her cheeks turn red whenever he attempted to flirt with her.

“M-Molly and Patsy wanted me to wear it. I wasn’t sure at first but they thought it looked good. I feel like it’s a little too much, what do you think? Do you think it’s too much?” Harry’s eyes softened as she rambled nervously to him.

Sensing her self-consciousness, he put her at ease by saying, “Y’ look beautiful Y/N,”

She took a deep breath, “Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure about anything in my life,” He murmured, reaching his hand out to hold her own. Y/N offers a shy smile.

“I don’t know about you all but I’m just about melting from how hot it is. Are any of you going in the water?” Molly asked, receiving a nodding of heads in response.

“What do y’ say we go for a swim huh?” He smirks.

Y/N suddenly gets all embarrassed again, “H-Harry, I need to tell you something,”

“What’s wrong?” He was immediately concerned.

“The thing is, I don’t know how to swim all that well.” She confessed, “We don’t have anything like this back home so I never really got the chance to learn.”

Harry snickered, “How’s about I teach y’ hmm?”

She purses her lips and then nods, “Okay Harry.”

They walk hand in hand to the dock. Harry notices Nancy’s glare as they walk past her and gives Y/N’s hand a small squeeze in assurance. He’s first to jump in the water, submerging underneath and swimming up to the surface.

Y/N stood on the edge of the dock with her toes hanging over the edge, “Oh I’m not so sure about this Harry,” She said, uncertain as she realised how deep the water was.

“It’s alright darling, I’m right here,” He holds his arms out, ready for her to leap right into them, “I’ll catch you before your head even goes underwater, wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty hair now would I?”

“No,” She says and he knows she wasn’t paying attention to anything he was saying, too busy worrying about jumping in.

“M right here Y/N, you can do it. Get in the water darling, c’mon.” He coaxes her and thinks she’s about to do it but she hesitates.

“I can’t! I really can’t Harry.” Y/N shakes her head.

“C’mon Y/N, you can do it!” Molly and Patsy cheer for her, already swimming in the lake with Elise in their arms.

“Alright Birdy, on the count of three,” Harry’s smiling even though he knows it’s hard for her. “One…”

“I can’t!” She bends her knees slightly.

“Two…” He shouts, people clapping and cheering now.

“Harry seriously!” She giggles, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Three!”

“I can’t do it,”

“Birdy get in the water!” He yells and then laughs because she’s laughing too at her own silliness, “I’m sorry daring, will you please get in the water.”

Y/N closes her eyes, bends her legs and screams, using one foot to leap into the water. Harry’s already there waiting to catch her and drag her up. It’s almost instinctive as he grabs her hips and feels her legs wrap around his waist beneath the water. Her head emerged and she quickly wrapped both her arms around his neck. “That’s m’ girl,” He cheered, everyone joining in as Y/N emerged with a smile.

“It’s cold,” She laughed, water coming out her nose.

“It’s not so bad,” Their faces were close, if he moved any closer he’d almost be kissing her.

“Are you gonna teach me how to swim now?” Y/N asked, her teeth biting her bottom lip.

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged, grinning, “I kinda like having y’ like this.”

Y/N splashed him with water, “What if I drown?”

“I won’t let you,” He said as though it were a matter of fact.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “But what if I’m eighty and you can’t swim anymore but I wanna swim instead.”

He knew she was being silly but he liked the fact that she considered him to be a part of her life for that long. A spark of hope flashed within him, “I’ll probably just swim with y’ anyway. I mean it would be a sight to see Birdy but wherever you go I go.”

Y/N huffed, “Fine if you won’t teach me to swim, you’ll just have to carry me around in the water.”

“Sounds like a dream,” Harry joked, “Where to first Birdy?”

She pointed to her two friends who were keeping Elise entertained in the water and Harry grinned, understanding her silent request. With a playful twinkle in his eye, he scooped Y/N up into his arms and waded into the water towards Molly and Patsy, Elise's delighted squeals echoing around them.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the lake, they reluctantly made their way back to shore after spending the whole afternoon swimming. As it was the last night, people had been preparing for a bonfire - a tradition created to commemorate the end of the trip. Sonny and George were already sitting with Nancy’s group of friends as they waited for the bonfire to be lit, the other’s going to join them.

Elise was napping in Patsy’s arms as they sat together, wrapped in towels and talking. Harry pulled Y/N down to sit next to him on one of the logs, pulling her into his side. He noticed she was shivering as the air turned cooler and silently reached for the sweatshirt he had brought with him to pull over her head. She thanked him quietly in return.

Eventually, the evening air was filled with the scent of woodsmoke and the sound of laughter as they settled in for a cosy night by the fire. Someone pulled out a guitar, and soon the sound of music filled the air, blending with the sounds of voices and the crackling of the flames.

Harry excused himself from Y/N's side for a moment to join his brothers and friends for a smoke. Despite the distance, he couldn't help but steal glances at her now and then, his heart warming at the sight of her. Each time she took over from Patsy in looking after Elise as she slept, a sense of peace settled within him.

It had always worried Harry that Elise wouldn’t have another woman in her life to provide the things she needed that Harry and his brothers knew nothing about. There was something profoundly comforting about seeing Y/N with his baby sister. It wasn't just the way she cradled Elise with such care, or the gentle sway of her movements as she rocked the sleeping girl. It was the way Elise seemed to instinctively trust her, snuggling closer to Y/N as if she sensed the warmth and safety she provided.

Harry turned his back on her momentarily to extinguish his cigarette in the dirt. But when he faced his friend again, his attention was drawn to someone approaching the girls. It was a man he recognized, someone Nancy and her friends had been conversing with for most of the day. He observed as Y/N smiled, but he could sense her discomfort as she subtly retreated while he continuously tried to get closer to her.

Harry began to slowly walk towards them until he could make sense of some of what the stranger was saying. The closer he got, the clearer it became that the man's words were laced with suggestive undertones, and Harry's protective instincts surged to the forefront.

As he approached, he caught Y/N's eye, and he could see the silent plea for help in her gaze. “Hey fella, I think you’ve had enough,” Harry said, his tone firm as he confronted the guy.

The thug sneered at Harry, clearly not appreciating the interference. "Mind your own business, pretty boy. The lady seems to be enjoying my company just fine," he retorted, a smug grin on his face.

Harry’s jaw clenched, “I don’t wanna have to ask y’ again to leave her alone.” He warned, his voice laced with a steely edge.

The man stood up and Harry tried to keep calm when he saw the frightened look in Y/N’s eyes. He wasn’t going to fight in front of her and he wasn’t going to wake his sister who was now in Molly’s arms. Although Molly, as though sensing there was going to be a fight, backed away and bought Elise somewhere away from the campfire.

Harry looked behind the man who was a few inches shorter than him, “Was he bothering y’ birdy?” He pointed at the thug who was trying to intimidate her.

“H-Harry-” Y/N stood and tried to reach for him but he held up a hand to stop her.

People were watching, the noise had quietened down as a thick tension fell over the camp, “I just wanted to talk to the pretty bitch over here. You know she was asking for it the way she was wearing that swimsuit all day.” The sick thug chuckled.

“You think that’s funny huh?” Harry faked a smile, stepping forward until he was right up close to the man, “Y’ know, my old man told me that when a guy makes comments like that to a young lady, it means something.”

“Oh yeah? What does it mean?” The thug spoke, as though he was in on some kind of joke Harry was making.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he muttered, “Their cock’s too small to find.” With a swift movement, he clenched his fist and swung, the impact landing squarely on the man's jaw. The thug stumbled back, stunned by the force of the blow, and Harry wasted no time in delivering another punch, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“Harry!” Y/N gasped as Patsy screamed in shock.

People gathered around to watch as the two men delivered punch after punch at each other. Y/N’s eyes welled with tears as she watched Harry get hit repeatedly, his entire face covered in blood.

“George!” Y/N ran over to him, “Y’ gotta stop it,”

“What am I meant to do? That guy’s huge!” George exclaimed although he also looked worried for his older brother.

“Please,” Y/N begged, “He’ll kill him.”

George hesitated for a moment, torn between the instinct to protect his brother and the fear of intervening in the dangerous fight. But the sight of Harry, bloodied and battered, spurred him into action.

"Sonny, help me!" George called out to his younger brother, who immediately rushed to his side. Together, they managed to pull Harry off of the thug he was punching, their combined strength enough to separate Harry from him.

Breathing heavily, Harry glared at the man lying on the ground, spitting out blood from his mouth as he did, before turning to face Y/N. Despite the pain etched on his face, his eyes softened as he reached out to her. "I'm okay," he assured her, his voice hoarse.

“Y-you’re hurt,” She was in shock, unable to believe this was real and not just some nightmare she was having.

“I’m okay baby,” He heaved, spitting out more blood onto the floor.

Before the man could get up and try to hit him again, Sonny, George and Y/N led Harry away from the bonfire. Y/N's heart ached at the sight of Harry's injuries, her hands trembling as she gently touched his bruised cheek. "We need to get you cleaned up," she murmured, one of his eyes already beginning to swell.

They managed to lead Harry away from the chaos of the campfire, guiding him towards their tents where they could tend to his injuries in privacy and ignoring the gossip that was whispered amongst everybody. Y/N caught sight of Nancy who stood up and looked over at Harry with concern etched on her features.

“Put him down here,” Y/N pointed to one of the logs for him to sit on and ran to grab a first aid kit she had packed in her backpack as a precaution and a wet cloth to wipe his face with. Harry groaned at the impact, hunching forward and clutching his ribs in pain.

Y/N knelt in between his legs in front of him and opened up the kit, “You two should head on back, make the most of the rest of the night,” She told them as she placed the wet cloth to remove the blood from Harry’s face.

“Are you sure Y/N?” Sonny scratched the back of his neck, “We can help if you want.”

“And do what? All I’m gonna do is fix his wounds and then go to bed. I don’t want you two to miss out and ruin the rest of the trip.” It was only ten thirty so there was still plenty of time to spend at the bonfire. “The girls are leaving Elise with one of the families and I’ll pick her up in the morning. Everything is fine, you two go and have fun.”

Harry hissed as she applied disinfectant to his cuts, “Well alright,” George said, still unsure, “But you’ll come get us if something goes wrong?”

Y/N nodded, trying her best to smile, “I promise I’ll come get you.”

They soon left and Y/N was left alone with Harry writhing in pain, “I’m sorry Y/N.” His voice came out a whisper.

Y/N’s jaw clenched, “That was silly, y’ could have easily diffused the situation without delivering the first punch.”

“He was asking for it and I won’t allow anyone to talk to y’ that way. I saw how scared you looked when he was talking to you. God Y/N,” Harry exhaled heavily through his nose, “I think I saw red - I’ve never been so angry before.”

Y/N sighed, “I know you were just trying to look out for me but you frightened me and I-”

“I did?” His voice sounded hurt, taking Y/N aback.

“A-A little,” She admitted, “I thought you were gonna die.”

“I can’t die, you know that,” He tried to crack a smile but his face hurt too much, “I never want to scare you, you know that right?”

Y/N said nothing, “Hey,” He cupped her face in his hand, “I never want to scare you, ever.”

“I know,” She shrugged him off, “Just don’t ever do that again.”

Harry looked at her with a furrowed brow, unsure what to think of how she was feeling, “Alright,” His shoulders dropped, “I won’t.”

Harry thought better than to interrupt her as she tended to the cuts and bruises on his face and hands. His eyes stayed fixated on her as she focused on fixing him up. He was pretty sure his pupils had carved themselves into hearts with how much adoration he had whilst looking at her. Her hair was wavy and tangled from swimming in the river, she had caught the sun a little so her face was tinged red and she was wearing his sweatshirt that was much too big for her small form.

“I think that’s as good as it gets,” She whispered, eyes darting across his face.

As she was about to pull away, Harry tugged on the sleeve of her sweater. Y/N looked down as he curled his fingers around her wrist and rubbed the pad of his thumb over her pulse point, “Thank you,” He murmured, doing his best to look at her despite his black eye.

Y/N helped Harry into the tent, trying to make it easy for him to lay down comfortably without feeling any pain from where he had taken a few hits on his torso. She crawled in beside him and lay on her side to look at him, “Do you need anything?” She kept her voice quiet.

Harry shook his head, “Just you here is fine.”

Y/N swallowed, “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.”

A silence fell over them, the tension felt palpable now that they were alone together. There was so much that needed to be said hanging in the space between them - things that had been brushed off or put to one side all so they could build trust. But perhaps as their trust in each other grew, they began to question their own judgement and feel uncertain about themselves.

“Y/N,” Harry whispered, breaking the silence. He rarely said her name now, often replacing it with the nickname he had given her, so hearing it from his lips sounded sweet like a term of endearment.

“H-Harry,” She said back, unsure of what he was going to say.

“My old man used to hurt me and m’ family a lot,” He started, Y/N’s heart hurting for the man in front of her and his younger siblings, “When I grew older, I started t’ fight him back and I got so good at it. Not that that’s something to brag about but… I-I guess when I see the people I love, like my Mama and my brothers and Elise, in pain, I just get so angry. I-it’s like I see red every time and all I can think about is how much I want to hurt the cause of their pain.”

Y/N stayed quiet, allowing him time and space for his moment of vulnerability, “But I don’t think I’ve ever been as angry as I had been tonight. It’s like I saw you flinch and I swore I could have killed him.”

“Harry,” Y/N gasped, wanting to reach out for him.

Harry turned over, wincing at the pain but needing to look at her as he spoke, “I ain’t stopped thinking about that kiss since it happened. When I sleep rough, I picture it to help me get back to sleep. Y’ seem to settle something in me that no one else can and… I don’t know what to do about it.”

Y/N’s heart thundered against her chest like it was trying to leap out, “Watching y’ with my family, being with y’ every day - it is the one good thing in my life. You are the one good thing in my life, the only thing that is wholly and completely mine. I don’t know how to quit y’ Birdy, I’ve been trying because I thought y’ wanted to do this whole friends thing for a little longer but I think about you when I sleep, when I eat, when I’m a hundred feet in the air - Hell, I even think about you when I’m holding Elise, imagining you being there and holding her and how much I want that with you.”

Y/N felt her eyes burn with tears, “Y-you do?” She said her voice barely above a whisper.

“I do darling,” He shuffles forward and reaches a hand out for hers under the blanket.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either.” Y/N confesses, feeling the weight on her chest ease with each word she spoke, “I don’t think I’ve stopped thinking about you since the moment I saw you.”

“You haven’t?” Harry questioned like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I haven’t,” Y/N affirmed, “Somehow it seems you’ve set up camp somewhere in there,” She placed a hand over his heart, “‘S a little annoying really,” She giggled.

Harry grinned, his head moving closer to hers. Y/N’s smile fell when she felt his breath blow across her face. Her eyes darted down to his lips, “Are we going to kiss again?” She asked.

“Do y’ want to kiss again?” He murmured, his lips feathering across hers.

“I do, so badly, I do.” She was almost begging.

“Well alright then,” His voice husky with desire. With that, he closed the remaining distance between them, capturing her lips with his.

The kiss ignited something within them both. Months of longing and watching from afar, releasing into this moment. Harry's lips moved with an urgency as Y/N sighed deeply in relief, their mouths melding together. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as if to bridge any remaining space between them.

Y/N responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in Harry's hair as she deepened the kiss, her heart racing with every beat. The world around them faded into insignificance as if they were the only two people remaining in the world and they were all each other had.

Y/N’s hand went under his shirt, feeling his warm body beneath her fingertips as she slid them up his torso. Harry gripped her hips hard enough to move her on top of him. Her bare legs were between his and he remembered she was still wearing her swimsuit beneath her sweatshirt. “Harry,” She whispered, breathless. She was tugging on the hem of his shirt, silently begging him to take it off.

He shot up and she pulled his shirt over his head. Y/N marvelled at his muscular, tattooed body, she’d seen it plenty of times before but she could never seem to get over how perfectly built he was. Harry was eager to kiss her again, but Y/N hesitated. Her fingers went to the hem of her sweatshirt, and she pulled it over her head. Then, she did something that left Harry breathless.

She pulled the straps of her swimsuit down, leaving her upper body completely bare. Harry had never seen something so ethereal. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, the ends falling at her supple, rounded breasts, her nipples hardened from the cold air. Harry felt his cock stir in his shorts and he was pretty sure Y/N knew what was happening from the way her pupils dilated and her lips parted.

“We don’t have to...” Harry wasn’t sure where this night was going to go but Y/N stopped him.

“I want to,” She whispered, “I want you.”

“Y/N,” He murmured, unable to believe this wasn’t all a dream.

“Shhh,” She shushed him and pressed her lips against his again. She looped her arms around his neck and pressed their bodies together.

Harry tossed the blanket to one side with his lips still attached to her. He pressed kisses down her neck, sucking and biting on her skin leaving a mark that would tell him in the morning that this was all real. Y/N could feel the bulge in his boxers beneath her as she straddled his lap. She rolled her hips against him, Harry groaning against her lips in response.

Y/N gasped when Harry thrust his clothed cock against her core. She could feel the dampening of her swimsuit as her pussy grew wet the harder he ground against her, “Harry,” She breathed, his lips ghosting against her jawline, “I want you to put it in me,” She said, her desire overruling everything.

“Yeah?” His voice came out raspy, “Y want my cock in your pussy darling girl?” He looked up at her with hooded eyes.

Y/N immediately nodded, desperate to feel him inside of her, “Take me out then baby,” He ordered.

Y/N swallowed and tugged on the waistband of his shorts, her fingers fumbling to pull him out. Her eyes widened when she saw the outline of his cock against the fabric. She reached into his shorts and felt his cock beneath her hand, wrapping her fingers around it only to realise how big he was as she pumped her hand up and down. Harry clenched his jaw, his head falling back as he released a moan.

“Gonna take off the rest of that swimsuit baby?” Harry murmured, playing with the nylon fabric. Y/N nodded and lifted her hips, allowing him to tug the swimsuit off of her body. Harry’s mouth fell open as her wetness touched his thighs. “Look at tha’ making a mess all over me hmm?” He tutted, his eyes looking down at her bare, pretty pussy. “So pretty, the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

“I need you so bad Harry,” Y/N mewled, her head dropping forward onto his shoulder as she went back to pumping his cock. He ran his hand up and down her back, soothing her.

“I know baby, I know.” He cooed.

He helped her a little by pulling his shorts down from his hips. He almost died when he saw how much bigger his cock looked in her smaller hand, “Will it fit?” Y/N asked, eyes looking up at him big and round.

Harry glanced at her pussy, “Dunno baby, y’ pussy’s so small,” He sighed, “Might hurt y’”

“But it’ll fit, I know it will,” She insisted because if he refused she’d probably pass out.

“Oh yeah?” He looked at her with a cocky grin, “Look at you, you’re so desperate for it.” He reached out to wipe the drool from the corner of her mouth as she looked at his aching length.

His lips went to her ear, feeling her shiver beneath his touch as he breathed, “Show me.”

“What?” Her mouth fell open.

“Show me how it fits in y’ baby,” He muttered.

Y/N swallowed and nodded, exhaling shakily. She sat up on her knees, lifting her hips and shifting herself so her pussy was directly above Harry’s cock. Harry waited patiently, moving his hands to her hips and giving them a soft squeeze in encouragement. She grabbed the base of his cock in her hand and lowered her hips until she felt the tip nudge against her hole. She gasped when she lowered her hips a little further and the thick crown of his cock squeezed through the opening of her core.

“There y’ go,” He inhaled, “Tha’s my girl.” Y/N nodded, unable to think as his cock stretched her open inch by inch in the most delicious way, squeezing and pulsing against the walls of her pussy the further it entered her.

“‘S it all the way in yet?” She whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut.

Harry looked down and groaned when he saw half of his cock submerged in her tight pussy, “Almost baby,”

“Okay,” She mewled, sinking further onto his cock until he was so deep inside of her. She whined, her head dropping forward when she felt the tip of his cock nudge the walls of her cervix and his balls pressed against her ass.

“Fuck baby,” Harry moaned, pressing a longing kiss to the top of her head.

“Y so deep,” Y/N’s words came out slurred. She rested her head against his chest for a moment, getting used to the feeling of his cock inside of her. “M ready now,” She whispered.

“Yeah? Y’ sure?” He wanted to make sure she was okay and that she was in complete control of the situation.

Y/N didn’t say anything. Instead, she lifted herself up and then sank back down on his cock, feeling it rub against the walls of her sopping, wet cunt as she did. She repeated the action, her head falling backwards, back arching; she had to grip Harry’s calves to keep her from falling back. She was seeing stars every time she bounced on his cock, “It feels so good Harry,” She whimpered.

Harry grabbed her waist, helping her move up and down on his cock, “I know it does baby,” He moaned, “Does it feel good knowing ‘m so deep? Only I can touch y’ that deep baby, fuck,” He drawled.

Y/N pushed herself up and removed her hands from his calves to his shoulders, using them as an aid to help her move up and down. Harry moved his head forward and wrapped his lips around her nipple, sucking and biting. He pressed spongy kisses down the center of her breasts, “Can y’ feel me right here darling girl?” He whispered, pressing his hand to her belly where his cock protruded every time she sank back down on him.

“Please Harry,” She whined, unsure exactly what she was asking for but so consumed by the intense pleasure she was feeling.

“Please what?” His lips ghosted against her jawline, sweat coated their skin from how warm the tent was. He tugged on the ends of Y/N’s hair, “Y’ want me t’ put a baby in y’ is that what you're asking?” Y/N groaned, lips parting as the air left her lungs. “Oh you like that, don’t you? Can feel you clenching round m’ cock baby. Darling girl wants me to put a baby in her?”

Harry thrust his hips harder into her when he received no reply, “Want me to fill you up and put a baby in you hmmm? Do y’ like the idea of having my baby inside of you? Making y’ belly all round and swollen and having everyone at Offutt knowing that baby inside of you is all mine.”

“Y-Yes Harry,” She gasped.

“Yeah? Y’ wanna make me a daddy baby? Be m’ perfect mama waiting on me with your perfect pregnant belly?”

“Mhm,” Y/N choked, his words making her heart pound. Her eyes began to water, feeling overwhelmed with how good she felt.

“Do you want me to cum inside of you?” He kisses her chin, “Know y’ ready to cum baby. Y’done so well.” He moves his hand in between them and starts to rub circles on her clit. Y/N’s gasping for breath, whining and writhing on top of him.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” She says over and over again like some sacred prayer, a stray tear falling from her eye.

“I know baby, I know you’re tired and ready to cum.” His lips puckering to leave a kiss where the salty tear once was on the side of her cheek. He could feel the burning in his belly as his orgasm began to build. He would have cum ages ago if he wasn’t so set on cumming with her. He could feel her cunt tighten around his cock, squeezing him harder. “Cum with me darling.” He murmured.

Y/N felt the coil in her belly burst as she clenched around his cock as she came. Harry’s quiet moans filled the tent as his cum painted the walls of her insides. He makes sure his whole cock is all the way in her even though he knows it won’t do anything, the thought of filling her up with his seed makes him cum even harder.

Y/N collapses into his chest, her head falling on his shoulder. Her eyes flutter shut and her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath from the intensity of her release. She feels Harry’s heart thumping hard against his chest, his hand smoothing up and down her back as he lays his forehead on her shoulder.

Y/N whimpers when Harry moves and shakes her head, “Can we stay like this for a little longer?” She asks, tiredly.

Harry kisses her shoulder, “For as long as y’ want.”

“Thank you,” She murmurs, feeling as though she could fall asleep exactly like this. His cock was still inside of her, she could feel the stickiness of his cum dripping on her thighs, but it felt so good to be so full of him.

“C’mon darling girl,” Harry kissed her cheek, “Time to sleep.”

Y/N shuddered when Harry removed his cock, her pussy pulsing around nothing whilst she felt his cum gush out of her. Harry brought his fingers to her thighs and began to push his cum back into her sensitive cunt. Y/N inhaled deeply, shuddering as she felt his fingers stuffing her empty hole with his cum.

He gently laid her down beside him, her body placid. He grabbed the blanket and laid it across her body to stop her from getting cold, “Your bruises,” Y/N whispered, cupping his cheek in her hand and brushing her thumb over the bruise on his eye.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” He told her, he’d completely forgotten he was even in pain after she admitted his feelings for her.

“Promise?” She whispered.

“I promise,” He kissed the tip of her nose and then laid down next to her, wrapping her in his arms. She hooked her leg around his waist and nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck. “I love you Y/N.” He whispered.

Y/N smiled, he could feel her lips curving against him, “I love you too Harry.”

Y/N woke up the next morning with a smile on her face. Memories of last night flashing through her mind like each individual scene from a movie reel. Her whole body was filled with warmth, her core aching from the acts she had partaken in just last night.

She turned over, expecting to see Harry still asleep beside her only to find an empty space. With a frown, she sat up and ran her fingers through her knotted hair, searching for her underwear and the sweater she had borrowed from him yesterday to cover herself up.

She crawled out of the tent and glanced around, trying to find the man she had confessed her feelings to. She hoped he was somewhere smoking a cigarette or maybe decided to go for a swim before they had to make the hike back to the Air Base later on.

Y/N stood on shaky legs and wrapped her arms around herself. She caught sight of Sonny and Patsy walking over with a bucket of fresh water. Y/N waved and tried her best to smile at them even though the feeling of dread began to swarm in the pit of her stomach. Sonny’s head turned in her direction and his expression faltered , “Hey guys,” Y/N said, her voice slightly raspy, “H-Have any of you seen Harry this morning?”

The uneasy silence that followed, punctuated by the grim expressions on Sonny and Patsy's faces, already made Y/N regret ever asking the question in the first place.

p.s y/n is on birth control just wanna make that clear heh

taglist: @ribbonknives @scorpiotulipicon @hermionelove @champagnepronlemsxxxx @n0vaj3an @roxyfan14-blog @avasbeanie @idontcareforausernamesblog @tpwksummer @celesterry @love-letters-to-uranus @boredhsblog @tpwk-harry-styles @groupieloveclub @estaticheart @unknownkii @royaler1999 @lovebittenbyevans

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miumura · 6 months ago

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ᯓ VILLAIN NEVER DIES — HEESEUNG FIC ๋࣭

SYNOPSIS Heeseung was great at his job—you knew that as one of the biggest villains. So, without a doubt, he was going to have you cornered. At a weakened state, Heeseung tried to save you, rather than killing you. Why? Because he loves you.

PAIRING hero!heeseung x villain-gn!reader

𓍼 WARNINGS profanity, violence, quite graphic? ( blood /cuts / blade ; just more detailed ), both are in visible pain

GENRE a little enemies to lovers action, forbidden love, betrayal, angst, comfort (?) — WORD COUNT 1.8K+ ( 1855 )

NOTE no joke i woke up from a nap and started writing away 😅 BUT WOOOO FIRST HERO X VILLAIN FIC 🗣️ i actually had fun writing this one 🫡 !! maybe i should write more stuff like this … thinking about it !

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, taking a look at your surroundings once again. You took the wrong exit out of the building, feeling yourself panic. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Placing your hand over the fresh wound on your arm, you winced, uttering a series of curses under your breath. The footsteps drew nearer, and you found yourself trapped. "Oh, is our most dangerous and scary villain stuck?" You turned to see the city's proclaimed "best" hero, Lee Heeseung.

“Fucking hell,” you whispered, but it was loud enough for Heeseung to hear, making him break into a smirk. You backed away—only to fall onto the boxes behind you, making you close your eyes due to the stinging pain.

“You’re weaker than I thought,” You hear Heeseung’s footsteps approaching you, and you flutter your eyes open, only to see him with a huge smirk while holding a blade to your throat. “This is the villain everyone in the city fears about?”

"You're quite the cocky hero, huh?" You retort, maintaining unwavering eye contact. In response, he just offers a serene smile, seemingly unruffled by the exchange.

“Not cocky, just simply telling the truth. You’re less stronger than the other villains I’ve been able to take out myself.”

Now that pissed you off. Just as you were about to grab his arm, he pushed you down again, making you wince one more time. The pain from you colliding with the wall during the chase was coming back to you again.

You glanced at him, breathing heavily after your rough collision with the boxes behind you. The unmistakable sting of glass shards embedded in your skin added to your discomfort, each movement sending sharp jolts of pain through your body. “What makes me so different from the other villains?” you demanded, locking eyes with Heeseung as he stood over you.

Seizing the moment, you grabbed onto his arm with all the strength you could muster, pulling the blade he wielded closer to your shoulder. The sharp point of the weapon had already pierced your skin, drawing a thin line of blood. You pressed his hand down harder, feeling the cold steel bite deeper. Despite your effort to provoke him, Heeseung resisted, his grip tightening as he fought to stop you.

"Stop this," Heeseung said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. His eyes searched yours, looking for something beyond the rage and defiance.

“I think we both know the answer to that, don’t we?” you said, pushing the blade even deeper into your shoulder. The pain was excruciating, but you refused to drop this act. “You love me.”

“Shut up,” Heeseung snapped, his voice filled with a mix of anger and desperation.

But you could see the truth in his eyes. Despite the pain and the blood, you pressed on, your voice trembling. “Admit it, Heeseung. You can’t stand the thought of losing me.”

“Stop it,” he snarled, trying to pull the blade away, but you held firm, forcing him to face the reality he was denying. “I can easily take you out now.”

His voice was filled with frustration, but also filled with conflict. You clearly knew he was faltering, he just didn’t want to admit it as the supposed hero he was.

"Then why don't you?" you shot back, your voice steady despite the searing pain. "You already have me here, clearly at a weak point."

Heeseung's grip on the blade tightened momentarily, his knuckles white. But instead of pressing forward, he hesitated, his eyes searching yours.

"Because," he finally said, his voice low and filled with emotion, "I can't bring myself to do it. No matter how much I try, I can't see you as just a villain. You're more than that to me."

"You're weak," you taunted, though your words lacked the usual venom. You needed to understand his hesitance, to push him to reveal the truth.

"The most wanted villain is in your hands, and yet you can’t take them out because of your feelings?" You scoffed, incredulous at how he continued to play the hero. "I didn’t know you were such a softie."

"Call me a softie then," Heeseung replied, his voice steady but filled with earnestness. "Throw all the insults you want at me—just remove the blade, please. I beg of you."

You hesitated, your grip on the blade faltering. His plea caught you off guard, the raw emotion in his eyes breaking through your defenses. For a moment, the lines between hero and villain blurred, leaving just two people caught in a complex web of emotions.

"Why should I?" you challenged, trying to regain control of the situation. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because this isn't who you are," Heeseung said softly, his eyes searching for yours. "You’re not just a villain. I see the conflict in you, the struggle. You don’t want to hurt people. And deep down, I think you don’t want to hurt me."

“Yeah right,” you said with a shaky breath, you slowly released the blade, the weight of it falling from your hand. The pain in your shoulder was still there, but the intensity of the moment overshadowed it. “As if you can change me.”

Heeseung immediately tended to your wound, tearing another strip from his clothing to staunch the bleeding. His touch was tender, careful not to cause you more pain. "Thank you," he murmured, relief evident in his voice.

"You keep letting me off easy. I know you’re a better hero than this," you said, your voice edged with frustration and disbelief.

Heeseung sighed, his expression conflicted. "Maybe I’m not the hero you think I am," he admitted, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. "Maybe it’s my tendency of wanting to save all kinds of people. Good or not."

You stared at him, caught off guard by his words. "What are you saying, Heeseung? That you think I can be saved?"

"I know you can be," he replied, his voice firm with conviction. "I've seen the good in you, and we both know that. You can keep lying to yourself, but we both feel something for each other.”

“Shut up,” you managed to wince as he wrapped your arm, the pain from your injury mingling with the turmoil of your emotions.

Heeseung paused for a moment, his fingers gentle but steady as he continued to bandage your wound. "Deny it all you want," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "But it’s the truth. And deep down, you know it too."

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his eyes. "Why are you doing this?" you asked, your voice strained. "Why not just kill me, end this once and for all?"

"Because I can’t," Heeseung said, his voice breaking with the weight of his emotions.

"Then you’ll fail your mission. Your main goal," you coughed out, the effort sending a jolt of pain through your shoulder. "Getting rid of me."

Heeseung’s grip tightened slightly on the bandage, his eyes hardening with resolve. "No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "My mission is to protect this city, to save lives. And that includes you."

You scoffed, "You can’t save everyone, Heeseung. Sometimes, you have to let go."

"I’m not letting go of you," he replied, his voice fierce. "Not now, not ever."

"Why?" you demanded, frustration and confusion mingling with the pain. "Why can’t you just do your job and get rid of me?"

"Because," Heeseung said, his voice softening, "you’re not just a mission to me. You’re someone I care about. And I refuse to believe that you’re beyond saving."

Your breath caught in your throat, the sincerity in his eyes almost too much to bear. "You’re risking everything for me," you whispered. "For what? A chance that I might change?"

"Yes," Heeseung said without hesitation. "I believe in that chance. I believe in you."

You shut your eyes, refusing to speak anymore. You knew if you continued, your facade would crumble, and you wouldn’t want to appear weak in front of a hero who claimed to have so much faith in you.

"You sure have some nerve to have faith in someone like me," you muttered bitterly, keeping your eyes closed.

"So what?" Heeseung replied, his voice unwavering. "Everyone deserves a chance at redemption, regardless of their past."

"A villain never dies," you retorted, your tone laced with defiance.

"What—" Heeseung started, but you cut him off before he could finish his thought. Without hesitation, you seized the blade he had discarded on the side and lunged at him, stabbing him in the side. He gasped in shock and pain, his eyes widening with betrayal as he stumbled back, clutching his wound.

For a moment, you stood frozen, watching as the reality of what you had done sank in. Heeseung’s expression was a mixture of shock, hurt, and disbelief, and each emotion felt like a dagger to your own heart.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. But your apology fell on deaf ears as Heeseung staggered backwards, his eyes never leaving yours.

You knew you felt terrible, and you usually don’t.

You can’t.

Emotions were supposed to be reserved for the weak, for those who had the luxury of feeling. All you had left in you was hatred. And you knew Heeseung didn’t believe that though. He just had seen you like everyone else, a person with emotions and feelings.

But you can’t listen to him. You’ve already fallen so deep in your ways. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe in that possibility. You had fallen too deep into your ways, too far gone to be saved, even if he claimed otherwise.

"YN, why?" Heeseung's voice rang out behind you, filled with hurt and confusion.

"A villain never dies, Heeseung," you replied coldly, steeling yourself against the emotions threatening to surface. You reverted to the persona you had carefully crafted. “Did I just not tell you that?”

"Next time, get me with no intentions to keep me alive," you added, your voice devoid of any warmth or remorse.

"But—" Heeseung started, but you cut him off, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

"Heeseung, you’re smarter than this," you said sharply, your tone cutting through the night air like a knife. Before you could lose your resolve, you turned away, the pain of your actions heavy in your heart.

But before you could disappear into the darkness, you paused, turning back to face him one last time. "You’ve built up this fantasy, thinking we could make things work just because I’ve opened up to you a couple of times," you said, your voice tinged with bitterness. "And even if you want to change things, no one can approve of us. I’ve done too much harm, and you have to stop me from hurting your people."

You looked at him, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. "Villains and heroes are never meant to be together," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “You know that very well.”

💬 : too much angst lately sorry guys ive been going thru it 😣 fluff soon !!!! (maybe)

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

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saetoru · 1 year ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good.

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left.

and then satoru wins.

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead.

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure.

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware.

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place.

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it.

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free.

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair.

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared.

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on.

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close.

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper.

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?”

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for.

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore.

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down.

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were.

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself.

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever.

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why.

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought.

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare.

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature.

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again.

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face.

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high.

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath.

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause.

and then you remember.

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru.

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have.

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again.

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh.

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself.

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close.

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness.

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night.

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans.

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest.

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room.

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry.

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly.

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not.

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen.

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast.

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between.

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace.

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile.

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart.

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name.

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles.

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away.

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment.

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years.

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do.

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you.

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru.

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had.

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him.

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind.

his breath hitches.

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror.

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms.

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened.

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him.

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance.

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to.

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention.

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence.

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them.

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them.

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to.

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down.

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it.

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself.

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life.

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in.

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you.

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin.

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for.

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you?

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it.

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life?

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him.

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal.

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score.

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous.

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort.

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good.

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off.

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think.

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles.

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it.

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug.

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed.

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place.

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look.

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch.

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes.

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this.

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room.

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook.

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again.

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind.

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks.

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left.

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good.

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence.

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away.

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow.

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation.

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too.

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes.

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too.

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?”

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever.

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive.

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?��

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy.

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru.

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little.

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled.

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises.

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough.

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink.

finally, for once, you’re enough.

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering.

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much.

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum.

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

#teepods.writings #fics.#geto x reader #geto x you #geto fluff #geto angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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madamechrissy · 2 months ago

Text

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x Duchess Reader

♔ Content/Warnings: Heavy, heavy fucking angst, jealousy, cunnilingus, fingering, blow jobs, rough sex, dirty talk, name calling (slut/bitch etc) toxic attraction, Gojo is toxic, reader is toxic. OOC. TOXIC britney spears level lol. Split POV-

♔ Word count: this chap: 12k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Slow burn, enemies to lovers. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you - Don't read this if you want a nice Gojo lol.

Comments and Reblogs appreciated <3

Part Eight - Masterlist - Playlist

Part Nine- Let it all Burn

Your POV

“You’re so foolish to trust him, we can do this without the Duke’s cooperation.” Nanami says, cupping your face tightly, and you sigh, shutting your eyes.

“I believe him-”

“How can you! Have you forgotten all the things he’s done to you?” Nanami demands, his voice so much harsher than you’ve heard it, making you back away a step, taking a breath.

“No, I have not, that’s why I’m leaving him, Ken. I don’t expect you to wait around all month, I already know that would be stupid and selfish. You do not have to stay with me-”

“I did not say I would leave you.” He whispers, but you see his brows draw together, you see the pain on his face, and you hate yourself more and more with every breath you take.

“Do not close yourself off, even after this annulment if I am to be alone, I will be fine, I will surely miss you sweet Kento, but I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy with you in my arms.”

“You’re miserable with me, you just won’t admit it, it drives you crazy and it hurts you. And that hurts me.” Your voice is hoarse now, as he shakes his head, denying his own truth. “You are hurting, be honest.”

“Because you’re trusting him, because I will not see you for a month? How can I be happy with that, when I want you to be mine, not his.” Kento’s voice grows more intense, as he’s looking down at you, taking your chin in his hands and running a thumb down your lip. “No I don’t want to share you, but at least I know you’re here, but now you’ll be with him only.”

He’s overwhelming you so much you feel your chest tighten, trying to focus on the right thing to say. “Things are moving so fast with us, I worry you’re not thinking rationally. You do not even know me that well to marry me so suddenly, I fear it’s your kindness, it’s your caring, your heart. Wanting to save me, care for me.”

He laughs then, but it’s a dark laugh, as he runs his hands down your body, pressing his fingers into your waist, against your ribcage. “No I do not think rationally with you, I’ve thought rationally my entire existence in my work, in my life, but with you I lose that completely, when I’m kissing you, when I’m inside you.” He’s pressing his body on yours, bending low as he murmurs. “There’s no rationale to how good you feel.”

You’re flushed, and overwhelmed, as you realize Kento has fallen so deeply, and you’re not sure you’re in that same way. You have love for Kento, you clearly have attraction, and it’s so easy to just be with him. You are happy, you enjoy him, but it’s not an all consuming need, and you don’t know what love truly is yet. You have never been taught such things.

Your mother told you nothing of sex, of marriage, and you had not even laid with your own husband, choosing Kento, and now your rash moment seems to just be hurting everyone. And why was Duke Gojo constantly on your mind, was it some trauma response as Kento theorizes, or is it so much more?

Is it the fact that his kisses destroy you?

Is it the fact that every day you feel worse for continuing with Nanami this way, but you do not know how to express it? And what future is there for you with him, surely your parents would disown you, society would disown you. And you do not mind such things for love, but you are unsure of everything, you wish so badly you could put proper thoughts together.

But how can you when you have Gojo acting…

Fuck, nice?

Was it some act, was it some game? And in the end, you need Gojo to end the marriage, you truly would have a horrible time without him, that’s where Nanami was a little wrong. You thought you were so sure of everything, but Nanami’s possessiveness and how deeply he feels brings a sinking feeling to your tummy, for fear of disappointing him, hurting him again.

It’s what you do, you hurt people, hurt them like you’re hurting, trying to find comfort in Nanami.

“I am not sure if I can return your love confession, that’s not fair to you-”

“You’re young, inexperienced, and this is new. I’m a very serious man, and I know what I want… and I take it.” He says softly, you sigh, biting your lower lip. “And I want you, I want to take care of you.”

“You do not owe me so much kindness.” You stroke his cheek with your gloved hand gently, and watch his lips set in a terse line.

“You have given me your body, your innocence, do you think these things mean nothing to me, like your… Duke thinks of them?” You blink a bit, hating the pain in his voice, but understanding it.

“I know they mean something, it was why I chose you to be my first.”

Kento sighs, pulling you against his hard body then, hazel eyes narrowing, thin nostrils flaring, you can tell he’s furious at the thought. “Please, don’t trust him, don’t leave me for a month to fall victim to such manipulation.”

“I don’t want to leave you! But I do want to help the villagers, and Satoru can help me with my parents even, that’s something we really need. You’re acting as if I will not face so many challenges-”

“Satoru, you call him Satoru?” He demands then, ignoring what you’re saying, and you sigh, shutting your tired eyes, feeling pulled every which way until you may break.

“Not to his face, never, I suppose I’m just sleepy.”

“Sleepy, why, were you just up all night with him?” It’s your turn to glare at him now, and Nanami rubs his eyes, exhaling and lowering his head. “Fuck, I’m sorry darling, I-”

“You said you forgave me, but you keep accusing me of doing more. I clearly broke your trust, and I don’t think that I can repair that.”

“No, no. I’m sorry.” His voice breaks, as he’s holding your hands and kissing them, sighing.

“I’ve given you every opportunity to run from me, to go be happy, you’re so handsome, so sweet, there is no way you wouldn’t find a lovely woman, with much less baggage. Please do not make me feel even worse than I do, I promise I hate myself enough.” You choke on the words.

Kento looks at you, stepping closer, brushing his hand down your cheek. “I do not regret meeting you, or doing this, but it’s killing me enough already. Now I must think of him near you and I don’t even get to see your pretty face?” His husky voice breaks your heart into pieces.

“Kento…” You’re crying now, and he’s swiping your tears, leaning down to kiss you, and you press your lips back, but when he has his hands gripping your hips, and then he eagerly starts to unlace your bodice, his tongue swiping in your mouth, you pause him, pushing him gently away. “We cannot, I gave him my word.”

His brows lower. “Your word? What about your word to me?” He says, and you lace up your bodice, blushing furiously.

“My word was to be honest, and I have been, I have told you what I did, and you are clearly still hurt. Perhaps-”

“Yes I’m hurt. But I still need you, it’s beyond wanting, I crave you, I’m falling so deeply, and now I’m terrified to lose you, because your Duke will manipulate you.”

“Ken…”

“You’re too innocent, you do not know what he could do.”

“I’m not so innocent anymore. I know you care… but I have an obligation here, and I think I owe it to try, if he is going to. It’s to end our marriage, and have all my dowry, which could go to my children some day. It’s a win win.”

“Not for me.” He says, and you feel your tummy lurch, as his words devastate you so much.

“No… not for you. Kento, here…” You’re taking off your necklace with shaky hands, as tears are burning your eyes, and Kento glares.

He stops your hands. “Do not take it off, it’s yours.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“You do, I just… I’m just upset. I hate him for what he did to you, and you’re so kind you’ll forgive him.” You lean back against the wall now, bones aching and exhausted, as you see the hurt you’ve caused by being so selfish, by wanting to be so happy with Kento, at his expense, falling deeper in self loathing.

“Perhaps you will find someone more worthy-”

“I want you.” He says again, softer, tilting up your chin. “I’ve wanted you since that night, when you ran off and disappeared. I won’t stop wanting you.”

“Kento…” He’s leaned down and kissing you again, tasting your salty tears, and he’s gripping you so tightly, holding you against him, but the kiss makes you sadder and sadder, his arms like a trap you wish to escape, and you hate yourself for feeling that way about him. “I am sorry that I hurt you, I never, ever wanted to.”

“I cannot bear it if you do this.” You’re a sobbing mess now, as his words hurt your heart, like he’s piercing a blade right between your breasts. “Kiss me, please, let me feel your perfect lips.”

You press yours against his again, as he holds you close, in his warm, cozy apartments, and you wonder if this is the last time you’ll see him. You wonder if he’ll find someone so beautiful and sweet and open like he deserves, and by the end of the month, you’d be all alone, on your own. No cruel… confusing… Duke Gojo, no sweet, perfect Nanami.

Perhaps just you and your thoughts.

Maybe that was for the best, so you would not hurt him anymore, and you could wallow in your own self doubts, free of Duke Gojo. You did want to be free of him, even if perhaps you all could get along somewhat at the end of this, Gojo could never love you, fuck he hates you, and you reciprocate it. Hate and toxic attraction was not love and could never be.

Nanami is kissing down your throat to your breasts, where they’re rising and falling with every breath, tongue hot and wet against your skin, his other hand slipping your skirts up. “Will you not even let me pleasure you?”

“I promised. I’m sorry but I cannot have him keep his half of the bargain if I am not going to.” You say softly, as his hands pause, and his hazel eyes are narrowed.

“Why keep your word of not sleeping with me, when did he care for your feelings?” Nanami whispers then, and you frown.

“He has been with no one for over a week. I do believe he’s serious about this, about righting wrongs.”

“It’s as if you’re giving him more care than me.” He whispers, and you can’t take it then, as you feel the pain setting in, the self loathing. “You had no problem letting him lick you, despite my feelings, yet you cut yourself off of me now for him. What am I to think?”

“Kento, I think perhaps we should… cool down on this.”

He glares now, jaw setting. “Cool down?”

“Yes it’s too much, too soon. It’s all so foolish! How can we have this happy life you wish when you don’t truly know me? When you cannot trust anything I say.” Your voice is breaking, and you see the hurt written on his face.

“There’s time to get to know these things, for now I just know I’m hopelessly in love with you. All of you.”

“You’ll be disappointed the more you learn.” Nanami’s normally warm and cozy apartments feel like they’re closing in, like they’re so tiny. “You’re a perfect man, Nanami Kento, I fear I am far from perfection.”

“You’re perfect to me. You taste and look like perfection, don’t you know?” He’s touching you again, until he’s on his knees, pulling you against him, looking up at you, and your heart breaks. “Do not leave so soon.”

“Kento, get up don’t…” You’re pulling him up gently, and he has tears in his eyes now.

“I’m asking you not to do this. Will you please not go?” He whispers, cupping your face, and you wish you could give him the answer he needs, but you know you need to do this. Everything is screaming it, even if you wish it would scream for you to stay with sweet Nanami.

“I must do this. I’m so sorry.” You say softly, and he chokes on a cry, just as you do, hating yourself so much you can’t stand it.

Why did you run to him?

Why did you put so much on him!?

And now you hurt him more.

But this is the right decision, your gut, heart, and soul is telling you, to try to help the Duke’s villages, to try to at least become cordial with him by the end of this. But hurting Nanami in the process was never your intention, clearly he would be far better off without you, and you don’t even know if you can keep on, with how far his feelings have gotten so quickly.

You ache to return them fully, you ache to love Nanami, fuck you do adore him, but this all consuming need he has, how he burns for you, you do not. Every time you try to tell him, he gives you an excuse, a reason, and does not let you finish your words, the ones constantly stuck in your throat.

“You’re making a stupid, foolish decision. Truly you are. I don’t know how much I can save you from yourself, Duchess.” He says then, and your eyes shut, your gloves are sticky with your tears as you wipe them off your cheeks. “You’re young and naive, you have no clue what you’re doing.”

“I may be young and naive, but I know I need to do this.”

“So then you’ll choose him?”

“I’m not choosing anyone, Kento did you not hear!? It’s to help me annul the marriage! To mitigate the insane consequences-”

“And spending that time with him, you’ll have no annulment, surely you’ll end up right in his bed.” You gasp now, and he curses, shaking his head.

“You’ve accused me of being a whore a few times now, granted you may be right, but you should have said so that day I told you. Rather than us…”

“Do you regret it?” He asks softly, and you shut your eyes, struggling as you feel nausea rolling in waves in your tummy.

Do you regret it?

Should you have left him that day, instead of letting this go further, letting his feelings get deeper?

“I do not regret the action, or choosing you, but I do regret not knowing how deep your feelings were, and hurting you by not sharing them fully back. I regret ever, ever hurting you. I regret ever talking to you that day-”

“Don’t say that!”

“Why, it’s how you got involved. I’d rather have wallowed in my self pity, perhaps just-”

“I don’t regret it, anything about you. How could I, when you’re the best I have ever had? The most beautiful?” You’re so drained, now, you cannot focus on his words, it’s as if there’s a throbbing in your entire body, as your throat gets tighter and tighter, and you’re rubbing it now.

“I should not have slept in your bed. Not while I was with him.”

Nanami scoffs at that. “He’s slept with half of London, you blame yourself!?”

“Yes, because now I’m no better. Nanami… here.” You’re taking off his necklace again, and he’s shaking his head, handing it back.

“Stop that, please. I’m still in-”

“We will talk later on, with cooler heads. For now, you keep this, for someone far better might require it.” You choke up as you speak, as you hand him the necklace gently, and he curses, pulling you to him, kissing you again. Something feels so desperate about it, like how Satoru kisses you.

Satoru, always on your fucking mind.

It’s not right to have him on your mind with Nanami, you’re not giving him your everything, and he’s giving you his absolute heart and soul. “Don’t do it. I cannot wait for you.”

“I do not want you to wait. I understand.”

“So you’ll break me?” He whispers, and you look away, eyes burning from your tears. “Break my heart, walking out this door, when you know you should be with me, you know how I’ll give you everything.”

“I don’t deserve your everything.” You break away then, and he’s behind you, pressing you against the door, hugging you tightly, burying his face against your neck. “Nanami, please let me go, please forget me.”

“How can I forget you, when my every waking moment is spent thinking of you, wishing you were in my arms, in my home? Knowing you’re with him, knowing he’s horrible to you. Knowing you’re not apt enough to… you don’t know enough to handle him.”

You blink a bit then, tensing in his hold. “Are you saying I’m not smart enough?”

“No just not… just stay, please? Or you will end me here completely.”

“I don’t want to end you! I never wanted to do this to you. You will not understand my decision, you may hate me for it, that’s fine. It’s what I’m owed for hurting such a beautiful person. A beautiful soul. So Ken, if I never see you again, if you find someone so much better, just know I will always care for you, and always be thankful. But this is best for you. You know it is.”

“You’re so foolish, Duchess.” He says with a sigh, finally backing up, allowing you a moment to breathe then, and you laugh without humor.

“Perhaps I am. I appreciate everything you have done, and respect any decision you make. Should I run into you again, I hope to see you smile.” He brushes a tear from your cheek then, turning your face towards him, pressing a kiss on each cheek.

“I see. Then I only hope you do not end up burned by your decision. I can no longer save you from it.” He says then, and the finality of it along with his tears devastated you.

You’re ruining something so good, but you must let him go.

Perhaps forever? You do not know.

Just yesterday you’d bought into the dream, of being happy, but you can’t take away Nanami’s happiness in the process. Surely he hurts now, but letting him go will allow him to find a true love, a woman that worships him just like he does, one that will love him so very much, as he deserves. Nanami Kento deserves everything.

“I wish you every happiness in this world. I hope I will become a distant thought soon.”

“You know it’s not possible to forget you. Good bye, Duchess.”

“Farewell, Nanami Kento.” You say then, and he opens the door, allowing you out, and you greedily suck in air as you do, on a foggy London morning. You feel your collarbone, the bare neck now, how quickly everything has changed.

You’re riding in the carriage later, replaying the conversation in your head. Nanami's words were not kind, but they were accurate. You are young, naive and foolish, and now you’ve likely lost him forever. All because you think that you should let him be happy, but he cannot see that now.

You want Nanami’s happiness, but you do not deserve it.

You did not deserve Gojo’s cruelty either.

But something about helping him, or understanding him…

You sigh as you shut your eyes, heading towards a man who ‘hates’ you, leaving a man that’s falling in ‘love’ with you.

Are you making a horrible decision?

Satoru’s POV

You walk inside the manor now, your cheeks puffy from crying, and your neck… it’s bare. The little gold necklace is completely gone, as you step inside, quietly walking up to where he is sitting at the dining room table, and he stands then, nervously assessing your face. He aches to touch you, but he’s so afraid, is he going to scare you, is he going to irritate you?

He used to care naught for such things, but now he longs to hold you in his arms, but what comfort would you find there? When he is the source of your pain, including what must have happened when you told your lover of his plan. Of course Satoru wants a chance before you’re gone forever, he does not deserve that chance, no, but he aches in his heart and soul for one.

“Is everything… Did something happen?” He asks, and you sit next to him then, not across like usual, surprising him.

“You’re asking me if I’m okay? Are you ill or something?” He snorts then, rolling his blue eyes, pouring you the nasty coffee you enjoy and handing you a cup. “And you’re giving me coffee? Are you seriously ill?”

“Can I try to fucking be nice?”

“Can you?”

“Insolent girl.” He sighs then, sipping his tea and watching you, your hands are shaking as you try to hold the cup, gloves soaked with what he presumes are tears. “Allow me?”

You pause then, your beautiful face looking up at him, lips parted, as he gently tugs on your gloves, revealing your delicate little hands. You say nothing as he holds them for a moment, as he sees that ring on your finger, he’s unsure why you wear it, when your marriage has been nothing for you. Five pretty little pearls on a gold band adorning your finger.

He wants to kiss your hand, how stupid, how foolish he is. What effects do you have on his psyche, on his heart, as he inhales your sweet scent, the scent that makes him ache with longing. You’re just letting him hold your hand then, as he watches emotions form once more in your glistening eyes.

“Thank you.” You say softly, taking the cup with a shaky breath.

“Why do you drink such a nasty beverage?” He asks then, and you blink just a bit, looking up at him.

“Do you actually wish to know?”

“That's why I asked.”

You sigh, setting the cup down, spinning the little rose gold spoon inside of it, before looking back at you. “I have asthma.”

Satoru is surprised then, eyes widening just a bit. “Asthma? Your parents never…”

“Yes, they did not want their daughter to be ‘not good stock’ as they said. What if I pass it to the baby and this and that. As if it’s so horrible, as if I’m less than for not being able to breathe.” Satoru remembers then.

‘Just breathe’

And the look on your face, incredulous, as you’d been clinging to your throat, then the pieces fall together, you’re always rubbing it, you have coughing fits he notices at night, always sipping coffee. And he, like a goddamn fool, has upset you over and over, probably making it worse.

“More reasons not to desire me I suppose.” You mumble, sipping your drink once more, and Satoru scoffs.

“What of it, you seem to have it under control, it’s not a flaw, it’s just… well, just who you are.”

You look at him in shock now, lips parted, and then you close them, clearing your throat, your lashes lowering over your eyes, casting shadows on your pretty face. “I appreciate that.”

“It’s nothing. So, what happened with your lover?”

You sigh, looking away, shutting your eyes, your breath catching just a bit, chest rising and falling. “I hurt him.”

“Hurt him?”

“Yes, by agreeing to this, but also… I had to let him go.” Satoru’s heart pounds then, for just yesterday he was so sure there was nothing he could ever do to have a chance. Not that he has one now, but some form of small hope blossoms in his chest, something he has never truly felt aside from that night in the carriage.

“You ended things?” He asks carefully, trying not to show how much hope was in his voice.

“It was necessary, I hurt him by my decisions. He has no trust in me. I’ve only served to disappoint.”

“Disappoint? He got so much of you, how did you disappoint?”

“I shouldn’t have even done it. It was rash and foolish. Now he’s completely heart broken, and all by my hand. I did not deserve him.” You cover your face now, your little sobs wrenching his heart. “I deserve nothing but misery.”

“What? Stop that. I…” Satoru’s tentatively reaching out for your back now, and you tense when he does, as he rubs your back up and down gently. “Is this… would you like me to stop?”

“No, do not stop.” You exhale, shaky as he pulls your chair closer, still rubbing your back. “Are you comforting me?”

“I’m sure I’m quite shit at it.” You giggle then, even through your tears, snorting with laughter as he pats your back now. “I’m so shit at it you laughed though.”

“Indeed, I did. Gojo, I would love to believe this, believe you can be kind, but I don’t know if I can. And I let such a good thing go, trusting you to keep our agreement, will you?”

“I will, if you want to end things, end things, however I can with our families. I will not make you stay.” Fuck he wishes he could, but he cares enough to stop keeping you in misery. You put a tentative hand on his thigh then, your touch burns through his trousers, it kills him how good it feels, but he stays still, watching you.

“I am trusting you, foolish as it may be.”

“I’m sorry you are… well, hurt. I can’t say I’m sorry he’s not fucking you.” You roll your eyes then, shaking your head.

“At least you’re honest.”

“I thought you loved sex so much?”

You worry your lower lip with your teeth now. “I suppose I embellished to hurt you more. I don’t know if I’m any better than you at this point.”

Satoru hates that he’s relieved. “You’re much better than I am.” He says quietly, as you fiddle with some stitching on his pants, his family crest, your fingers running around it, and fuck if it doesn’t make him hard, just that touch. God everything about you turns him on, just last night after leaving your room he’d had to make himself cum thinking about you.

What he’d said.

How you’d reacted.

“I told you about my asthma, tell me something. If we are to know each other somewhat.”

Satoru freezes then. “I will tell you something important if you can help me today. For now, I have something simple to share. I love horses.”

You smile then, so brightly, it stops his heart. “I also love horses. Do you enjoy riding them?”

“I do, it’s very calming, and freeing. There will be some for sale we may look upon while we’re there if you wish for one.”

“Oh, but I won’t even be here… long enough for…”

Stop those words, they kill him.

He already knows you’re almost gone.

“Well, you can take it with you if you choose, a gift from me. I notice your gift from your lover is…”

“Yes, I gave it back. He should bestow it upon someone worthy. This does not mean suddenly I’m yours, of course.”

“I know that.” He says softly. You nod a bit, standing and straightening your skirts, tilting your head a bit to look at him for a moment.

“I will freshen up and we can head to town?”

“Perfect, thank you.”

You smile again, so sweet and just a hint of one, but the way it makes you even more beautiful kills him. You head up the winding staircase then, and Satoru tries to control his breathing, tries to focus. He wants to make today and the rest of his time good for you, it’s the bare minimum he could do before you disappear, leaving a void he never knew was there.

He would need to tell you, explain, even if it makes no sense, even if it does not help him, purely because you deserved to know, at least some of what happened to make him treat you this way. Never an excuse…

Could he find the courage?

You two walk through the poor village, your hand rests delicately in his inner elbow, you look so pretty in your day dress, but when don’t you look pretty? Satoru wants to act as if this is real, that it’s no agreement, that it’s something true. Your face is scrunched up in worry as you look upon the acres of farmland and the conditions those are living in.

“Gojo… this is so… we must help them.” You look at him, your hand gently squeezing his arm, and Duke Gojo nods.

“Yes, I want to help them, it will be much more than a month of course, but I appreciate you helping at all.” You sigh now, as you all approach the main farmer that supplies the Gojo Manor with food and grains.

“Your Grace!” The farmer and his wife bow and curtsey, then look at you and do the same. “Your Grace!”

“No need to be so formal.” You say, and Satoru watches your soft smile as you walk up to them, they seem instantly enamored by you.

“We are here to discuss some better conditions, I know my father… was slacking when it came to this.” Satoru says, and they nod carefully. “Please, be honest with me so I may help.”

“Rest in peace to his grace.” Satoru tries not to snort. “But indeed, his short run as Duke was absolutely devastating to the villages, we had hoped that perhaps you would…”

“Hush, Richard!” His wife hisses, and Satoru holds a hand up.

“No, I need honesty. Go on.”

Richard sighs, wiping his sweaty brow. “The taxes have made it near impossible to do anything but break even, and we give as much food to the manor as we can, but here people are hungry” Satoru feels sick then, thinking of his conditions, thinking of how he let this all go, let all of this go because of his hatred.

“Cut the manor’s supplies by twenty-five percent, to start.” You say then, and Satoru smiles, as you look at him curiously, and he just nods.

“We could never!” Richard’s wife says, clutching the bodice of her old brown dress she wears.

“Indeed you may, we have a surplus. And Duke Gojo will lower the taxes as much as he can, it may not go back to how it was, but he can certainly lower them, yes husband?”

Fuck you’re amazing.

“Indeed, I will lower them… twenty-five percent.” He smiles at you, and you light up, nodding. Richard and his wife begin to cry, then they’re on their knees at your feet, you squeak adorably, yanking on them.

You bring everyone to their knees, don’t you?

“No, no! Get up!” You hold their hands and smile at them. “We will work on fixing this, you have my word. For now that will provide much needed relief.”

“You’re an angel, a godsend.” His wife says through her tears, and you pull a fancy handkerchief out of your reticule, handing it to her and holding her shoulder gently.

Fuck you are an angel. Satoru marvels as you start speaking to them both, and Satoru does not have to do much, not with you there, not with others around coming to you, and marveling at your beauty, and your kind nature. You are so gracious and sweet to every last one of them, taking your time as the Duke speaks to the men about the financials.

“Please make us a list of what you need. We can come and help with supplies or anything.” You say before you all leave. “Make a list for us, yes?”

‘Indeed. Oh, your Grace, you married an angel.” Richard says now, and you shake your head with a little smile.

“You’re… fuck, you’re incredible.” Satoru says as you all are waving goodbye and heading to the next person you must speak to. You blush prettily at that, looking nervously at the ground.

“You’re being so nice. It’s so weird?” He laughs a bit then.

“I was very nice once upon a time. Let’s say someone broke me. Like I clearly tried to break you.” He hates himself as he speaks, but you take his hand carefully for a moment, he feels the satin of your gloves before you pull away.

“I’m not broken just yet. Who's next?”

“The landlords of the village, I do need to speak alone to them, they do not respect women’s opinions. As if their wives aren’t smarter.” You giggle and the sound does things to his entire body. “Would you mind spending some time looking at the horses for sale as I convene with them?”

“Oh, of course. I will meet you there.” It’s so easy to pretend you both are a couple, so very easy to pretend that Satoru almost believes it, and so quickly. When he does finish threatening the landlords and getting them to lower their rents, he finds you petting a beautiful white horse and feeding it an apple. You look back at him, your curls bouncing as you grin.

Fuck, his heart stops completely, as the rays of sunshine bounce off your skin, making it glow, and he wishes upon anything he had not been so horrible, so foolish, because now all he will get are glimpses of you. There would be nothing else, once you are gone.

“Come here, look at her, she’s a beauty!” You say with a laugh, and Satoru takes a breath and comes over then, petting the horse’s face gently, she looks up at him with big brown eyes.

“Quite a beauty. Is this the one you want?”

“You cannot buy me a horse-”

“Why not, it’s a trifle to me. At least enjoy… before you leave.” He mumbles then, as the words hurt to say. You look at the horse carefully, then look at Satoru, smiling so cute, he watches your face light up. Today he’s seen you smile so much, he does not think he ever has before, not after what he’s done.

Is this who you are?

“That is most generous, Gojo. Thank you.” You hug him before you seem to think better, easing back with a tighter smile. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. Let me purchase it, we can have her tied to the carriage.” Satoru purchases the horse and can’t stand how adorable you are, it causes some twinge he can’t place.

Satoru had long thought you so beautiful, long wanted your body, long enjoyed how you challenged him, your strength and confidence. But now he’s noticing every little thing you do, every gesture, every soft smile, everything about you, constantly endearing you to him. He should not get so close, so hopeless, knowing you do not want him, knowing you can never be his.

How can he fall for you now? When you’re not his, even if you’ve ended things, it’s not as if you suddenly would forgive and forget what Satoru’s done, especially in just a day or two. His problem last time was that he did not give you time, he just expected things to happen, as things always have for him, as a Duke, but you were not some conquest or some quick thing.

You are so much more.

Should he have hope, or is he a fool?

Now you all are in the midst of a little fair, where there are all sorts of villagers dancing and laughing, and you look up at Satoru then, sighing. “Although they’re so very underprivileged, don’t they seem so happy? So much more happy than…”

“Than you?”

“Than us.” You answer, and he sighs, nodding.

“They do seem happier. Perhaps finding the joy in community, in lovers, in family, whereas we just play our roles. Though I suppose your role will end soon.” He can’t stop the hurt in his voice, and you notice, blinking back emotion. You shouldn’t care, why do you still care at all?

“Perhaps. I know I would find joy in children, in family. Oh, hello!” A little girl runs up to you then, practicing her curtsey, making you giggle.

“Princess, Princess!” She says to you, and you look like one, don’t you, it’s why Satoru says so. You are straight out of some fairy tale, and Satoru is some beast you’re stuck with, surely.

“Aha, I am a Duchess, so very close. He is the Duke, so almost a Prince!” She points to you, and he chuckles a bit, shaking his head as you bend down, uncaring of the dirt at the bottom of your skirts. In fact you seem more alive here than you ever have at a dance or at the manor.

Satoru watches you light up then, as you stand up and hold that little girl in your arms, with the biggest smile on your lovely face, fuck it lights everything up, a sight he never thought he’d see near him. Not when he brought you so much pain before, so much so he detests himself for it, for clearly dimming this beautiful, bright soul you have with so much darkness.

Your little laugh is precious as you hold onto the kid, playing with her ringlets, and the kid grins so big back at you. “You so bootiful Dushess!” She speaks, and even Satoru smiles, he can’t help it, the kid is so genuine, and you’re so adorable with her.

“Me, beautiful, oh thank you, but you are such a beautiful Princess!” You say to her, and then you take off that little blue tiara you have, putting it on her little head as you sit her down on the ground. The little girl lights up, running to Satoru then, tugging at his lapels.

“I is a Pwincess!” She says with a big smile, and Satoru can’t stop his chuckle, adjusting the tiara worth far too much to be something for play, but then he notices you watching him, smiling at him so big, nodding.

God you’re beautiful.

You’re just glowing as you whisper - “tell her she is one”

Satoru sighs, leaning down on his haunches now. “You are indeed a true Princess, look at you! Can you twirl?”

“Twirl? Hmm!” She spins and he laughs, then takes her tiny little hand in his, spinning her instead, and she giggles like crazy, then Satoru looks at you, your hand on your chest, your eyes glassy as you smile.

“There, Princesses twirl like that. Let me show you with the Duchess. May I, my lady?” Satoru walks to you and bows at the waist, you blush so pretty as you give him a delicate curtsey.

“Indeed, you may, Prince Gojo.” She teases, winking at the little girl, who is bouncing up and down, as other kids come up with their parents, smiling at you both. Satoru takes your little hand in his big one, the other on your waist, realizing for once you are wearing short stays and not a corset, and he can feel your waist.

He has to take a breath for a moment, as he spins you, and then looks at the children with a smirk. “We need music!”

“Oh, let me sing!” One of the little kids says, and then they are all singing together, quite horribly, making you giggle as you look up at Satoru, and fuck you take his breath away.

Could you ever forgive him, care for him, stay with him?

The thought of you leaving makes his chest hurt so bad it’s like someone is ripping his heart out, to know he pushed you right into the arms of another, he hates himself for it. He wants so badly to know you, and he loves what he’s learned today, that you would be the best mother in the world. That you light up around children.

Perhaps your baker would have given you those, but for a heartstopping moment as you dance in his arms, in the middle of a poor little village with kids singing, he wonders if he’d change his vow to not have an heir, if only it was with you. If only you would stay, he would do anything for you now, anything to keep this smile.

He knows he has next to no chance, he knows he’s only beginning to repair anything, but you make him want to dream of it, make him want to try. As he dips you over his arm, and whispers against your ear - “A pretend kiss, Duchess?”

“You’re such a cad.” You whisper back, as he leans you back up to stand, eyeing your beautiful lips.

“For the children!?” He whispers, looking at them, then at you, and you sigh, looking up at him and nodding with a little smile.

“For them.” Satoru cups your face and plants a sweet, chaste kiss on your lips, and everyone is cheering.

“Royalty!”

“So in love!”

“So romantic!”

It’s not true, you’re doing this because he’s got you in an arrangement, because he’s trying his best to hold onto you, to just get a little bit of your attention and time before you slip through his fingers. But he feels you tremble in his arms, your arms wrap around his neck, and when you pull back you are flushed, smiling shyly, before you compose yourself and grin at the onlookers.

After you all had moved on and were walking back to the carriage, Satoru takes your hand, and you pause, before removing it, looking up at him. He sighs, his own hand at his side, as he burns for you, for your affection, something he pushed and pushed away. You sigh then, as you all get to the carriage, and look up at him, taking his hand.

You make his heart falter.

“Sorry, you’re trying to be so much kinder, I do appreciate it. But I’m too afraid that it’s a lie, that I have lost someone who loves me because I am foolish.” Satoru nods then, thinking of that man on you, swallowing down the sickness.

“I have one thing to say. If you would let me.” You take a breath, nodding then, and he cups your cheek, looking down at you, and feeling you tense, biting your lower lip. “I wish that was our first kiss.”

Tears form in your glittering eyes, as you suck in a breath now, looking away and your lip trembles. You shake your head, and Satoru’s heart is pounding, he’s never vulnerable, he’s so terrified, will you shoot him down, and how will he react? He’s so fucking scared…

“I wish that was our first kiss too.” You say finally, and he gasps, as you then turn away, and his hand touches your waist gently, helping you up into the carriage. He comes to sit next to you and you take his hand again, carefully with a small smile. “I wish we… well I guess it…”

“Yes. I agree.” You pull away but he pulls it back, and your eyes lock, the breaths loud in the carriage as it rocks gently. “I know you’re leaving me, but could I please enjoy this while I can?”

“Enjoy my hand?”

“Yes.”

You nod then, pulling back and taking off your glove, smiling as you hold his hand so carefully, now bare, your skin against his making him yearn ever more. “You mean like this?”

“Yes. Thank you.” He murmurs, holding your little hand, and you nod just a bit, as the sunlight filters through the carriage blinds, and Satoru thinks for once, maybe he could open up, he could try even if it’s going to end in his own pain. Even if you’re too far gone, he cannot give up. He has to try for you.

“Today was beautiful.” You say after a few minutes of quiet, and he looks over at you now.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Don’t… please…” Your voice breaks, and he sighs, shaking his head and turning to you now, still holding your hand. “Duke Gojo…”

“I should have told you from the beginning. That night, our wedding night, how beautiful you looked, your lacy little outfit, your hair shimmering.”

“Don’t.”

“You looked perfect, your body I can only imagine fully, I’ve just seen it in pieces, but I know it’s beautiful. I know your heart is beautiful. I saw you today, uncaring of dirt, treating these people as equals. I have never met a fucking noble like that.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“I gave you no credit until now. None. I was horrible.” He hates himself then, as emotion wrecks him, emotions he wants to keep in as he cups your face. You have little tears glistening down your cheeks. “I know you’re not mine. But it was so beautiful to pretend.”

You grip his wrist, as if to take it off, but you don’t, you shake your head at him now. “Why did you do this? Why did you cause this? Do you not understand, if you did not, I would have… fallen… I…”

“What?” He asks quietly, and now you take a breath and shut your eyes, as you speak words he thinks are impossible.

“Even now, after all you’ve done, I feel things for you, I don’t know if they are hatred, I have no idea, but they consume me. Consume me so much I had to let a good man go, because you’re always in my fucking head. I hate it, I hate it so.” You take his hand off then, and Satoru exhales, as you swipe your tears off your cheeks.

“Do you think of me?” He asks, and you laugh then, without humor, eyes glistening with a sheen of tears as you study him.

“You are like a plague, a sickness, I hate it. I hate you so much, Satoru.”

“Satoru?”

“That’s what you hear!? Not that I hate you, that I hate what you do to me!? That I can’t rid myself of you? Even when we’re done, I have no clue if I will, thinking of your body on me, thinking of your lips on mine, biting mine. When I had someone perfect, and all I desire is you. I hate it, I hate it.” Your words get hoarse, as your breasts heave in your bodice, as your cheeks flush with anger, or more.

Satoru scowls then, grabbing you by your waist. “You think you don’t constantly consume me? I told you I burn for you, I meant it, in every way. Not just your body, not just your face, it’s everything, everything about you making me fawn over you like some stupid schoolboy. Just by existing you destroy me.”

“You destroy me.” You’re crying fully now, and you shock him then, bringing him down to meet your lips.

You’re kissing him!?

Satoru has always kissed you, mostly when you fought, when you were so sexy when angry he could not stop himself, when you pushed him to the point he could not hold back any longer. But now you’re pouring your passion into his lips, and he pulls you against him, moaning into your lips, tasting your sweet lips, drinking you in, as you’re even closer against him.

You pull back, shaking your head at him, struggling to breathe. “I hate that I want you, I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t!” You smack at his chest then, and he lets you, he deserves your hits he deserves none of your kisses, none of your kindness.

“I know you shouldn’t. I know.” He brushes your hair back, falling out of your perfect little coif, and you’re trembling in his hold, as he looks at you so lovingly, as the carriage is reminding him of that night, the night he tasted you.

“Why do I want you?” You are asking yourself more than him, as he’s right against your lips, as you breathe each other’s air, as he can feel your pulse racing under his thumb as he feels your little wrist in his grip. “I’m a whore, you’re right.”

“You are not a whore. I should have never called you that. I’m… fuck I’m so sorry for saying it, for blaming you. I just… I wanted to be your first.”

“You didn’t deserve to.”

“I know.”

You sigh then, head falling back as he pulls you into his embrace, as he feels you tensing, then relaxing in his grip, now one of your thighs is over his, and he’s slipping his hands up your skirt, inch by inch, watching you and waiting for you to tell him to stop, but you don’t. You’re just watching him, as he reveals your legs, clad in little white stockings with bows.

“Like the wedding night.” He murmurs out loud without realizing, and you shift, even closer, it’s as if you’re both drawn to each other like magnets, like he’s drawn to your gravity, and you his, as he’s consumed by images of you. “I should have given you a true wedding night. Not having you crying and hurt. You should never forgive me, never, for any of it.”

“I know I should not. I know.” Your hand runs down his chest then, as Satoru’s hand is even higher, and he finds you, soaking wet and dripping, and he moans as he feels you, so slick. You cry out, head falling back, hips rolling for more. “I should not want you. I hate it. I hate you.”

“You should hate me.” He whispers, as he slides a finger in your tight entrance, watching your eyelashes flutter, as your breath quickens, and you whimper from the back of your throat, making Satoru so hard he can’t stand it, it’s painful. When he leans down to kiss you again, lips hovering. “Let me make you cum, please, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Fuck it means so much to him though.

“I shouldn’t be doing this, I’m stupid.”

“So am I. But you’re not stupid, it’s… something between us, I’ve never felt it, even with my… with my ex. Ever.”

You look up in surprise, but then just moan out loud when he finds your clit now, and he can’t stop himself, he’s dragging you on his lap, you’re straddling him, as he fingers you, as you’re soaking his hand. And you’re clinging to his shoulders, kissing him desperately, messily, unpracticed still but fuck you’re good at it, as he pumps his fingers in your eager little cunt.

“Fuck you’re beautiful.” He whispers, enamored by the goddess on his lap now, and you’re clenching around his fingers now, gasping. “That’s it, cum Princess.”

Your POV

Satoru makes you cum right on his long fingers, so easily, so hard you’re blinded, as your entire body overheats, and you’re trembling in his hold, as he presses you down now, and you feel it, his length so hard and pressed between your lips. You moan out, grinding and rolling your hips, and fuck you want more, you can’t take it, when he looks up at you with those blue eyes.

When those elegant fingers unlace your bodice, and he’s sucking a nipple into his mouth, pressing up, and your head falls back, as waves of pleasure roll through your body, then he’s kissing you again, and you can’t think, you can’t function. You need Satoru Gojo like you need air, and you’re horrible for it, for wanting him so goddamn bad.

You break away and his pretty lips pout, thin brows draw together. “Please, it doesn’t have to-”

“It means something. It does, and I don’t know what it fucking means. I don’t know anything, Satoru.” You can’t help it, but feel vulnerable in his strong arms, and he’s cupping your face so delicately.

“You can still leave me, I understand. Just let me please you again, and again, until you pass out from pleasure, until-” Gojo’s desperation, his pleading, and his stupidly pretty face do you in.

You’ve fought it so long and you’re weak for him.

“Fuck it.” You pull back then, to his shock, unbuttoning him eagerly, and his eyes are wide in shock, as his own breaths hitch, and you find his length with your hand, stroking his pretty cock, watching his own head fall back.

“Oh my god I’m fucking dreaming.” He whispers, as you’re stroking up and down, feeling his hot skin, he’s so hard for you, and he’s kissing you again and again, moaning into your mouth. “Fuck I could cum just from that. Pathetic for you, fuck you.”

“Fuck you, fuck you. Hate you Satoru.” You whisper, then he scowls at you, gripping your hair.

“Should fuck that bitchy mouth.” His aggressive words just turn you on more, and he stops himself. “Fuck I shouldn’t say that, I’m sorry, I’m trying to-”

“Fuck my mouth then.” You say, earning him sputtering at you, before he’s pushing you down on your knees in the carriage, and he’s shoved his cock in your mouth, and you’re so wet it’s stupid, as he groans, hitting your throat.

“Fuck, feel so good, slutty throat, isn’t it?” You just nod, pathetic like he is, you want him to call you it, you love his cock hitting the back of his throat, love him moaning, whimpering above you as he’s cupping your face. “Oh my god, fuck.”

“Mmm.” Is all you manage, as you’re playing with your pussy under your skirts, aching for him.

“So slutty, you’ll play with yourself? No.” He yanks your hand off now, sucking on your fingers and groaning. “Only I can touch you.”

You pull back then, letting him go with a pop of your lips, eyeing the precum on his tip, before looking back to Satoru, glaring. “Only you!?”

“I want to fuck this attitude out of you.” He whispers, as the carriage stops then, and you realize what you’re doing. You hurriedly run out, leaving him to adjust himself and chase you, you can’t breathe, fuck you can’t… “Please, please… don’t leave, don’t run from me. Please it can mean nothing if you want. Just use me.”

“Use you… what… I…” Satoru stops you in the halls again, pressing you into that wall he’d had you on before, barring you with his arms on either side.

“You can still go. Just please, give me this moment, I have never wanted someone like this, I’ve never needed someone like this.” You shake your head, trying to come to your senses as he’s consuming you. “I’ll just make you cum, you don’t have to touch me again.”

“I liked touching you, sucking you! Fuck you for that!” You shove at him, and he exhales, so tall over you, so beautiful as his face is so close, as his hand slides to your bodice, undoing it lace by lace, and you’re on fire for him.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You do!”

“I don’t. I hated you because… fuck… you look like someone, who hurt me, okay? Just like her.” He’s cupping your face, and you blink in surprise, feeling him open, feeling his vulnerability. “It’s no excuse, and I can explain more later, but please, please let me keep touching you, I know I don’t fucking deserve to, but please.”

Satoru finally confirms what you thought.

You want to know more, but your addled, overheated mind can only think how much you want him. “It doesn’t mean I’ll stay. It doesn’t.”

He’s unlaced you fully now, and unzipping your skirts, letting them fall to a pool at your ankles. You’re in just your chemise now, nothing else, and in the middle of the manor, where any servant could walk out. You are on fire everywhere he touches, everywhere he kisses, as he picks you up now, your stocking clad legs wrapped around his hips.

“I know. I know. Let me have you cumming on my face again, let me drink every bit of you, please. There is no one I desire as you.”

“Liar, liar!” You cry out as he’s kissing you again, as he’s grinding his hips and pressing against you. “Liar.”

“I was a liar. I was. Not now. You are a madness, a black hole, sucking me in every minute you breathe.” You can’t take it, as you’re letting him carry you, as he’s shutting the door to his room, and you glare at his bed.

“How many whores came on it? I won’t fuck you on it.” You say then, and he grins like a little shit head.

“You are going to fuck me?”

“No!”

“Hmm. They’ve been cleaned. But I can fuck you on the wall, like a pretty little slut, is that what you want?”

You scoff, shoving at him. “I don’t want you. I don’t like you. I hate you.”

“Mmm, I know, Princess.”

“Not a Princess- fuck!” Satoru’s slipped off his coat, his shirt, and you drink in his perfect body, as you slide your chemise down now, and he’s staring at you, dropping to his knees, mouth dropping open.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous. Every bit of you.” He presses kisses on your tummy, as you feel emotions consuming you when he pulls down your stockings gently, as you feel Satoru’s energy taking over, as you cannot stand hardly from just his breath against you.

“I should not want you. I should not. I hate myself for it.”

Satoru looks up at you, his blue eyes swirling as he inhales you, mouth kissing your pussy just the slightest bit, making your hips jerk, as he throws a thigh over his shoulder. “I hate myself for hurting you. I hate myself so much.”

His words break you, you can’t stop the tears, of desire, hatred, confusion, of everything, of his vulnerability as he kisses your inner thigh, biting it hard, and then the pain makes you even wetter. “I hate myself and I hate you.”

“I hate myself for making you hate me.”

“Fuck… fuck just…”

“Just what?” He raises a brow, and you glare.

“Just…” You press his head against you now, and he moans, tongue lapping at you as only he can, as if he knows every spot, every inch, fucking you with his tongue as his nose bumps your sensitive clit, then he’s sinking two fingers in, and you’re cumming embarrassingly fast, as he drinks you. “Satoru!”

“Oh my god.” He groans, vibrating you as he continues fingering, looking up at you. “I can do this all fucking day. Nothing else.”

“Mmm, liar, you liked me sucking you.” He smirks then.

“Are you talking shit to me, insolent brat?”

“Sure am. Fuck you for being that good at this. Ah!” He’s sucking on your clit now, humming on it until your knees get weak, and you knock him down to the floor, eagerly grinding on him again, and he flips you on your back, the cool marble against overheated flesh, hovering over you.

You can’t speak then, not when he’s covered in your slick all over his face, not when he’s shoving two fingers back in, watching you fall apart hungrily on his goddamn floor, and you’re writhing under him. “Want to be fucked on the floor, maybe you are just a pretty little whore.”

“Oh fuck you, Mr. I fuck the brothel. Hate you.” He chuckles then, pulling out his fingers and sliding them in your mouth then, making you choke out as you taste yourself.

“Shut you up. Ah!” You bite his fingers now, and Satoru winces, shaking them off and laughing like a psycho. “Evil little bitch.”

“Cruel, mean ass fucking Duke. Hate you, mmm.” Satoru’s cock is at your entrance, and you’re cumming just from it rubbing on your clit, he gasps then, his jaw clenching. “Mmm!”

“Cumming from that, are you so pathetic, Princess?” He whispers, and you glare up at him, on your elbows now, he shoves you down, thigh high over his arm, and he looks at you, eyes darting back and forth on your face. “Ready to actually get fucked, like the pretty slut you are?”

“All talk, aren’t you, bet you- ah!” Satoru’s cock has shoved fully inside you now, and you’re shuddering as you try to take it, as he’s filled you so full, and he pauses then, lips parted, looking down at you.

“Fuck.” He whispers, leaning lower, a hand sliding up your ribcage, his forehead resting on yours for a moment. “You feel better than anything. Perfect.”

For once, the word does not hurt.

Because Satoru feels perfect inside of you.

“So tight. So wet. Oh my- fuck-” Satoru slides out, then back in, and you’re screaming out at it, at how he’s grinding his tip on your cervix, something you’ve never felt, so intense you’re shaking. “Beautiful.”

“Oh shut up, fucking… don’t make me like you… just… fuck me, ah!” Satoru’s stroking in you now, and your head slams into the floor at how good it feels, as he’s moaning over you, kissing down your throat, your breasts, fucking you harder and harder, so hard it hurts, but you want it you want- “more, more.”

“So slutty, need to get fucked good huh?” You say nothing, and he slams into you hard, and you’re cumming again, so intense you can’t see, everything goes blurry, and he then is pulling out, making you whine. “Cock hungry, aren’t you?”

“Fuck off, Satoru. Fuck-” He picks you up now, throwing you on his bed, and slamming back into you, groaning as he rolls his hips, as he snaps them into your pussy over and over, and you’ve never felt that good. You’re losing yourself in him, in his cock, his hands, his lips, his everything.

Just physical, it has to be, you can’t love him.

You can’t, you won’t, you never will.

You’re stupid.

But fuck his cock is wrecking every thought you had, and where Nanami at this point would be done, this psycho is just getting started it seems, as he’s pulling both your legs up, fucking your deeper. You’re clinging to his blankets desperately as he pumps, and your head is going side to side.

“Gonna fucking ruin you, Princess, for anyone.” He whispers, shoving your thighs against your breasts, and you’re gushing all around him, as he pumps so deep. “Make your cunt mine.”

“It’s not yours. It’s not. Ah! Mmm!” Satoru’s turned you then, and you’re on your tummy, panicking, looking up at him. “What are you doing?”

“Gonna fuck you like this, Princess. What, thought you were so experienced, huh?” He slides his cock in as you’re on your tummy, and he’s so deep like this, you feel him everywhere. He takes you over, as he buries his head against your neck, biting it, his hand sliding low as you’re shattering, unsure of your existence.

“It’s too much, too much.” You whine out, and he laughs then, psycho ass duke, rolling his fingertips on your clit, and you can’t take it, your head falls back, and he’s got a hand around your throat.

“Too much, Princess? What he couldn’t fuck you like this?” He shoves in so deep while he’s squeezing your throat, you feel like you’re floating. “You like it, me choking you, don’t you?”

“Fuck you.” He smiles against your cheek, his silky white hair tickling you, moaning into your ear then, sounding so sexy it pushes you over the edge.

“Feel her pulsing around me, fuck she wants my cum, doesn’t she? Slutty cunt, fuck I almost would just to feel it.” His words are madness, as he keeps squeezing, as he’s slamming his cock inside you, and you can hear the squelching wetness as she sucks him in, greedy for more, until your orgasm rocks you. “Oh fuck, that’s it, Duchess, that’s it. Cum all over me.”

“Hate you, hate you.” You whisper out, but you hate yourself, because you have never felt this good. He’s tilting your head now, slamming his lips against yours, in a mind numbing kiss, his cock working you over and over into oblivion, your walls clenching around him, you hate how you can’t imagine not having this.

“Could’ve been doing this, fuck I’m stupid fuck. I hate myself.” He huffs the words, then your eyes lock, and your vision blurs on his pretty face. “Best I’ve ever had, ever.”

“Liar. Manwhore.” You kiss him brutally, a hand reaching back to pull his hair tightly, and he moans at that, fucking you harder, each thrust smacking your ass, making it jiggle.

“Little slut. Wanna be fucked mean, don’t you?” He fucks brutal then, slamming your cervix, gripping you and gasping. “Oh my god, cum again, fuck cum again. Slutty fucking cunt gripping me too good.”

“Fuck you, Satoru- ah!” You scream out as you do cum one last time, fuck you’ve lost count, you’re weak and going numb as he thickens inside you, pulling out then, jerking himself into his hand, whimpering as he cums, hunched over as if in pain, and you carefully sit up, watching him breathlessly.

Satoru’s hand is covered in thick white ropes, so much of it, still pouring out of his pretty pink tip, his eyes fluttering shut, lips parted. You’re trying to catch your breath at what just happened, you feel as if you’re going to fall off the edge of the world. He looks at you then, as you look at his cock, fuck you could suck him again, he tasted so good, how does his cum taste?

Why do you think this way!?

“Let me… don’t leave, please?” He pleads, and you nod a bit, as he comes back with a washcloth, carefully wiping you, lovingly almost, what a joke, studying your pussy carefully with a smirk.

“What?”

“Beat her up.”

“Oh god.” You smack at his hand then, rolling your eyes. “You’re such an immature man. Boy I should say.”

“Boy, huh, how many times did you cum?” You’re blushing then, as he’s leaned close, kissing your lips once more. You bite him, glaring. “You’re so adorable mad, you know that?”

“You vex me so.” You push him off then, trying to catch your breath, as the reality sets in.

Nanami was right.

You ended up right in his bed.

As if reading your mind, Satoru sighs, brushing your hair back. “I’ll still allow you to leave, even if we’ve consummated the marriage.”

You look at him in shock then. “You will?”

“I gave you my word. I don’t want you too, but I will not hold you here if you still want to then. I swear it.”

“But why?”

“Because you deserve that choice, the one not given to ladies. You deserve to leave me for what I did.” He blinks away tears, lingering on his white lashes, and you break into pieces, falling deeper into his gravity, into his black hole.

He seems to feel you’re his black hole.

How do two black holes work? Do they destroy each other?

“I must… I must go.” You say softly, and he shuts his eyes, resting his forehead on yours now, nodding.

“I don’t want you to go. But I understand. I wish I could… bloody hell this is stupid. Wish I could hold you.”

“Hold me?”

“Yes, I ache to hold you every night. But I’ve brought it all upon myself. Thank you, for this. I did not deserve it, did not deserve to feel you, and your tight little pussy, watch your beautiful face, touch your perfect body. None of it. Thank you.”

“You’re thanking me?”

“Yes.” His eyes lock on yours when he pulls back, and you can’t put two and two together.

“I can’t trust you yet.”

He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I know.”

“If I fall, you’ll just get a new mistress, flaunt her, you’ll-”

“There will be nothing after what I just felt with you. You’ve ruined me, Duchess, ruined me forever.” His words are hoarse, and so easy to fall into you have to pull away, shaky as you stand, he has to steady you. “Do you want to know more about her?”

You nod, you’d been so overwhelmed you could not remember anything for a moment. “I would, yes.”

“Get rest tonight, I will share with you tomorrow, after we take care of more pressing issues with the village.” He slides your chemise on, and touches your shoulders with his hands, even that action makes you ache for more, as your pussy throbs from his cock still, aching in ways you never have. “Thank you for everything today, even if it’s just once.”

His eyes, his face, his lips, his vulnerability, it’s too much. You lean up then, as he bends down, kissing him, letting him hold you. “I shouldn’t have.”

“You shouldn’t have, but you did. I’ll dream of it.”

“Shut it, Satoru. Fuck you vex me.” You kiss him again, before dragging yourself away, taking several breaths. “I still hate you.”

“You should.” He takes your hand, kissing it then. “There’s no excuse for anything I’ve done. I will never be able to make up for it. But I hope… tomorrow you’ll understand me more.”

“I hope I will as well. It was all I ever wanted.” Your voice breaks, and you turn away then. “I bid you goodnight.”

“Good night, Princess.” He pulls you back, tilting your chin up, kissing your forehead, and you melt from it. “Thank you.”

You cannot speak, you just leave quietly, back against the large wood doors, eyes shutting as you try to compose yourself, as you try to understand what happened, but there’s no words for it. You’d loved what Satoru did, you’d loved his cock inside you, loved him biting you, calling you a slut, loved him taking you from behind, consuming you utterly.

You are shaking as your Nan prepares a bath, and you can’t even speak to her, as you sink into the hot waters, remembering every bit of his touch. Is that what sex truly was, when you felt so much? Nanami had been so sweet with you, Nanami had professed his love, begged you to stay, but you left him.

You’re horrible.

Because Nanami isn’t even in your mind, unless you force him there, unless you make yourself think of him. It’s all Satoru Gojo, your mean husband, a cruel man who had destroyed you, a man that had fucked women right in front of you. A man that had pushed you to lose your innocence, when perhaps you would not have so quickly, perhaps you’d have thought better.

If he did not destroy your mind, your psyche, your soul. But you wanted to forgive everything when his pretty face looked at you like that, when his eyes gave you that gaze that made you feel so desired, like you were the only thing that existed for him. Nanami had never looked at you like that whatever the fuck that was.

You should scrub Satoru Gojo off you, but instead your mind is filled with images of him, that sweat dripping down his straight nose, his lips reddened from your kisses, the way his eyes rolled back when you sucked him. Instead you relish in it all, in a man you’re going to leave, in a man you don’t know, that made your body come to life.

You sink into the tub then, into the water, scalding hot, and you hope it burns you alive, as you scream out under the water in frustration.

What the fuck were you doing?

A/N: Lots of people are torn on this story, as they should be! Some people don't like the Duchess, she's not perfect as perfect characters bore me, I like complex ones. This was always a gojo/reader even if I really am confusing and hurting people lol. Love ya'll who enjoy my mess, Nanami isn't gone from the story by the way!

Taglist : @kalopsia-flaneur @bunheadusa @7thsthings @disilluzions @chiyokoemilia @antisocialinlw @Sukunassfinger @lelsforlino @peppertoastuniverse @muvasuperior @prince-wyiilder @lavender-hvze @ssetsuka @labelt-san @sadmonke @philiatothephobia @ambiguouslady42 @stromynight @dreamygirli3 @jjknanamin @jazlenekasi @victoriaaaa00 @wuvnada @valleydoli @nanasukii28 @sw3etnena @dark-agate @tamaki-simp @yuuuumii @givluv2tyy @webshooterrr9 @miizuzu @thikcems @erensblackwife @murayamayoshiki-lovergurl @airandyeah @jaylenezzz @blue-musingss @huuuhwhaat @teacupwaifu @makingtimemine @saccharinesatoru @sunnyviewsblog @nanananananaiknow @spookyblackhottie @ekaterinatepes @murayamayoshiki-lovergurl @szna

Until the next one, dear masochist readers

Part Ten

#gojo x reader #jjk smut #satoru x reader #gojo smut #arranged marriage #duke gojo #silent serenades #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x female reader #gojo x f!reader #bridgerton au #royalty au #jjk

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