#how are both he and gojo different as characters

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!?

Warnings- emotional, lots of feelings, regrets, mentions of depression (reader) mentions of each other's past, MUCH fluffier than the last one, slow burn is still being a slow burn, character development (we love to see it) and some kissing/making out, sexual tension WC this chap- 10k

A/N- Taglist closed- please comment/rb if you enjoy <3

<<<Chapter Five - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Seven>>>

Chapter Six

“I need a change of career.” He says again, and his manager sighs, shaking their head, as one of the directors comes up.

“Modeling, I have an agency.” He hands Satoru a card, and Satoru’s manager covers his face for a moment.

“Like nude modeling?” Satoru asks.

“Sure, or any kind, look at your bone structure? You’d make good money.” Satoru holds the card, flipping it around.

He was always a pornstar, for his adult life.

Can he do more than that?

He has more than enough money to damn near retire.

But how the fuck could he get you to forgive him for what he did, how could he ever get you back? Now that he realizes there is no one in the world for him but the girl he’s wronged. The one who doesn’t even realize how much he cares, because he’s not even said it, never articulated it. The girl who now wants nothing to do with him, how does he just let that go?

“Some people get burnt out,” Satoru’s manager mumbles, putting a hand on Satoru’s shoulder then. “Modeling huh, I’ll get some contacts together, and we’ll see about some different shoots for you.”

Satoru exhales in relief, what once felt like a perfect career truly felt like a fucking prison now. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, put on some fucking clothes.” Satoru smiles a bit, heading to the dressing room, looking at your name, your picture.

The sweet one with your big glasses, with your little peace sign, a sweet innocent thing he fell for, that he selfishly let be corrupted by his own needs and desires. And now he can’t help but have his own regrets, remembering you that night, the anger on your face, the way you kissed him anyway, the way you bit his lip so angry, dressed so fucking slutty that night.

He’d changed you, possibly forever, and you changed him, in ways you didn’t even fucking know. How the fuck can he just let you go?

*****

Six months since you said goodbye to Satoru Gojo

Being without Satoru made you realize how empty you were before him, god how much you miss him - how horrible you feel for sending away the man you love. How stupid you feel, there are so many times you look at his number, you changed his name to just Satoru now. Once, you got drunk and texted him, panicking when you realized that you had.

I am sorry.

That was the text, not some nude or something madly embarrassing, it was a simple apology. He’d written back to you the next day.

Don’t apologize.

That alone broke you down further, there was so much beauty in Satoru Gojo, so much sweetness there that you miss so desperately. How can you not miss him, the images spilling through your mind of Satoru behind you in that mirror - both times he had been. One at that club under heady lights, pleasuring you and whispering desperate in your ear- the other him being tender, sweet, caring.

That was the duality of him - the moments he broke down, and you saw so much more you wanted to know. Peel the layers back of who he was- ultimately, you didn’t know him any more than he knew you. It’s a reason you’re beating yourself up internally, wondering if you put too much on him.

But the love confessions that spilled from your lips?

You meant every word.

It didn’t matter that you didn’t know him completely yet, it was everything you felt from the moment he caught your eyes at the party. It was everything about him, how your lips felt against his, how you felt when he looked at you with those eyes - so beautiful, special, loved by his actions. Did the words matter so much?

They did matter to you, or you wouldn’t have pulled back. The days go by, the weeks go on, the months pass - it’s fall in LA now, it’s lovely and in the seventies, you’re just stuck inside today. Many, many days you do this, wallow in front of your couch, watch the same movies on repeat, over and over, falling asleep and dreaming of him, only to wake up from it and realize it’s gone.

The fact that you did this to yourself hurts more, that you pushed him away to find yourself, but are you finding yourself? You changed in ways you can’t go back to, you changed for him but also because of him, you’re just not the same girl. As you watch Casablanca for the millionth time, and Humprhey Bogart tilts up Ingrid Bergman’s chin, you’re in a mess of tears like you’ve never seen it.

You’ll always love him, won’t you?

You ended up cutting back graphic design hours, and soon you were dabbling more in photography. Though you had done a couple shoots with Jenna, you wanted to dabble in much more. Through some pretty good connections with the company you ended up quickly making a name for yourself, the money was good and you were diving into something full on.

The distraction was so needed for everything in your life, you know that you need to focus on something and maybe the pain will lessen from losing Satoru. You always wonder if he’s okay, if he’s doing well, you can’t help but ask yourself at times. Jenna ended up telling you he called that night, and for a while you were upset she didn’t let you talk to him.

But you think you understand, she just cares a lot. But to see you like this, still after months - shit, half a year - she mentions it again.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said last night. “I just… can’t.”

“I did hear he left the industry, shut down his OF,” she murmurs, eyeing the mess you are on the couch and frowning, she’s asked to clean for you numerous times, but you always refuse.

Your house is spotless, but your couch is where it’s real, the pain, the hopelessness you feel.

“I wonder if I was too harsh.” She says, her words surprising you then.

“Maybe you were, but it’s for the best I suppose.” You cuddle a plushie, resting your chin on it and sighing. “Even without the profession, I don’t know if he returned my feelings.”

So that was where the two of you left it. Even if Jenna should have let you talk to him and didn’t hide it, nothing had changed from that fact. Nothing changed when you told him you loved him, and all he said in return was that he wanted you. The feelings couldn’t align themselves.

The past six months were a blur, parts where you’re enthusiastic and so energetic, and many parts where you’re devastated and lethargic. The pain of not having him rips your soul apart, everything feels wrong about not being in his arms, you second guess yourself constantly.

Should you have kept it all going, should you have just let it be physical and held back your feelings? You could have been some OF power couple, in his arms and earning his praise - being his star. Sometimes you wonder if you were more okay with filming than you thought, and it scared you - but another part knows that just isn’t who you are.

You don’t touch yourself and think of him, you just don’t touch yourself at all, there’s nothing to be turned on about anymore. It’s like it was before you met him, except even little books and smut stories do nothing for you. All you picture is him in everything you read, to the point you find no joy in it, another thing about you fading in the haze of depression.

You know you’ve taken it too seriously, the feelings, the moments, the nights in his arms. You’ve let it consume you, and though you maybe ‘know yourself’ better from this, it doesn’t make it any happier, any easier. Every night you think of calling him, of just talking to him, but there could never be ‘just friends’ with him. You’re too deep in your feelings.

You want him in your life, so badly and tangibly, and it can’t just be fleeting - if it were, why is it still here, half a year later? Why does he dance through your fucking mind on repeat, living in your brain rent free, his big grin and just how sweet he was when you two were together. The way his hand caressed your cheek, you can still feel it there when you touch it.

When you look at the mirror you just look tired, the sparkle isn’t in your eyes, the color isn’t there, you brush on a little blush and add some mascara before a really big shoot, to look human. You practice a smile, you are truly excited, it’s a big opportunity for a huge magazine, and the first truly big one for you. You just have to shove down the gnawing feeling that’s always there.

Did you really make the right decision letting him go? Couldn’t you have tried to hear him out, to give him the chance?

The thoughts race as you head to the shoot, but when don’t they? When don’t you second guess your actions, wishing you’d been more upfront to begin with. Maybe Satoru didn’t know you fell in love, or maybe he didn’t believe it, maybe that wasn’t something he was ready for. You shove the thoughts back as you meet everyone, and that’s when you see him.

A head taller than everyone, the pretty face of the man you fell for, he’s wearing some insanely expensive suit opened up at the chest, buttoned down enough to show his bare chest, chiseled and cut as you remember. He isn’t smiling brightly, but he has a little tight curve to those plump lips, as he runs a hand through locks that look just a little lavender under the lights.

Your heart stops in your chest as the director calls you over, and his eyes catch yours, just like that night. His lips part just so, hands tensing at his sides, blinking snowy lashes so quickly like you’re an illusion. Your pulse races in your ears, you expected to hurt when you saw him again, you imagined you’d pass him by in a street one day perhaps.

But you didn’t expect the tenderness, the way you just want to hold his hand in yours is so vivid you barely bite back your emotions. You plaster on that smile, as you introduce yourself, and the girl with him is so sweet as she shakes your hand. The director explains the vision to you, as the people help decorate the set, and you’re finally there with Satoru.

He just stands there, staring at you so intensely, you feel it like a touch, you look down nervously, fiddling with your hands in front of yourself, as he drinks in the sight in front of him. “Still biting that lip,” he murmurs softly, you gasp a bit at it, eyes locking then. “You’ll have permanent marks there.”

“I think I already do,” your voice feels too good to his ears, it makes him ache as you speak, smiling so nervous, very much the girl he met that night. The different girl who just made everything stop, and you still have that effect on him, you still after all this time make his heart race. “You look amazing.”

“Makeup is weird,” you laugh softly, the sound like a punch to the gut for him. Just that sound alone, he’s missed so vividly, he realizes it then, how much he missed every part of you. It wasn’t just that desire for your body, though that’s there, it was little things like how the lights are hitting your hair, how your smile breaks his heart. “I really wanted to…”

“Me too.” You manage, the both of you don’t say it, not when you’re being pulled in different directions for a moment, but you feel it, everything he doesn’t say.

He missed you too. You can feel it. You can feel him, so close, his scent in your nostrils, the familiar cologne that you miss. He’s talented already, the poses he makes are beyond someone in this for a few months, impressive as he works everything, every angle so well. You can’t help but be so happy for him, to see him like this.

You know he enjoyed porn surely, but you remember the calls and demands stressing him out, it seems he’s a little more natural at this, a little awkward here and there when you’d ask him to touch the model and interact. But he picked up on that as well, you hear that most of his shoots were alone so far, so this was a huge one for him too.

To get a cover of this magazine was something anyone would covet, you can’t help but feel proud of him, smiling as you snap photos. Not a fake smile, a real one, for the first time in so long, knowing he was okay, knowing how badly you needed the reassurance that he was. Your heart aches deeper, ever deeper while you watch him look at your camera, smiling just so.

He’s heartbreakingly beautiful behind your lens.

Satoru struggles to focus on what you say, on anything, when you’re in there with him, when all he can think of is how badly he wants to hold you in his arms again. Things just were different now, like a piece of him was missing constantly, for a moment the void is full by just seeing you. He always wondered if you were good, if you were doing better, not getting hurt by him anymore.

Then he thought other things, of wildly showing up to your house, of begging you on his knees to take him back. Of asking you out truly and not whatever foolish shit he said to you. ‘A friend’ you were never just that, not from the moment he blew that smoke into your mouth and you trusted him so implicitly. The moment you left him was still the hardest blow he’s had.

A couple weeks hurt him more than the years with his only other girlfriend, and you two weren’t even ‘together’. But it hurt more than anything he could even try to explain, the thoughts racing constantly. Could he have said more, given you more, the longing is so tangible it takes his breath, while you work on posing them again, and take some shots from different angles.

“Tilt her chin up just a bit,” you murmur softly, as Satoru’s bright, swirling blue eyes look right at you, rather than the pretty model in front of him, and it’s like you can feel his touch, as if it’s your chin he’s gripping. “Look at her lips.”

You give a gentle direction, clearly pointing out the obvious, that Satoru can’t get his eyes off the girl he hasn’t seen in months, the one he dreams of every night. How can he see anyone else in the room? With a giant, fancy black canon camera, you bend down, snapping a picture, he stares in his peripherals as you do, then you’re on your knees, getting another angle.

He has wondered how you were, god he didn’t want to ruin your life any further, but being this close to you makes him ache, in so many ways. How your hair falls over your shoulder, how you angle your head to study them, now walking up and smiling, turning the model so she faces away from him. You brush her hair forward over a shoulder, taking Satoru’s hand then.

That’s when he feels it, like a shock rushing through him as you pause for a moment, giving him a sweet, sad little smile. “Touch her waist,” you put his hand there, and take her hand now, turning her. “And you look at him like this… perfect.”

You walk back to take another few photos, and you thought maybe after so long it wouldn’t hurt, but it does, like a fresh wound opening. You’re so proud of him for being at this quality of a shoot, but you can’t help but wish you were the one in his arms, even now. There’s not one night in the past months that he hasn’t haunted one of your thoughts - all of the what-ifs.

The shoot wraps up and everyone chit chats for a bit, you’re packing your camera up in your bag when he steps up to you, that black dress shirt half tucked in and unbuttoned, showing too much of a perfectly sculpted body made for modeling. You feel your cheeks heat up as you trail your eyes up and catch his boring into you the way that only he can.

“You’re a photographer now?” He asks softly, his tone is just so different from last time, from the cocky and conceited man, the smirk on his face replaced with parted lips, eyes studying you so intensely. You nod a bit. “That’s so badass, look at you.”

“Look at me, you’re modeling now.” You say softly, smiling up at him as his hand goes to touch your cheek, but pauses, knowing it’s not his place to do so.

Were you with anyone? Did someone treat you like you deserved?

Even if you were, god he just missed you, the presence, the lingering sweet scent in the air - those cupcakes you always smelled like, intoxicating. To imagine caressing your cheek he sees tint with color, to hear your little laugh again, rather than the tears he left you in. He clears his throat, letting his hand fall, flexing his fingers open as he sighs.

“I am… I don’t do… I changed careers.” He manages to say softly, you blink a bit in surprise at that.

“You don’t do um,” you trail off, clearing your throat. “You don’t shoot at all?” You’d heard rumors from Jenna that he quit, but she wasn’t sure if it was true. You hate the relief you feel when you shouldn’t. He shakes his head now, bringing you back. “Do you miss it?”

“No, it wasn’t for me anymore.” His voice gets husky, stepping just a bit closer as the workers take apart the set, but everything fades but him.

It’s always like this, the never ending need for him.

You feel like half your heart is standing right in front of you.

“Do you enjoy modeling, Satoru?” To hear his name from your lips makes his heart race, he nods quickly. “Then I’m very happy for you. I wondered how you were,” you blink back tears, and he catches sight of them glimmering under the set lights. “I think of you often.”

The words are there, you are afraid of them, but also you’re so tired of holding it all in. He steps even closer, making you swallow nervously, leaning down a bit, a hand now brushing your hair back from your face. The contact alone of his fingers brushing through your strands makes your heart hammer in your chest, eyes locking with his.

“I think of you every damn day,” his hoarse voice is so genuine, you’re so afraid to trust it, to believe it, but you feel it, something has changed in him. “I would love to just know how your life is going. If you’d just please, have coffee with me? Or just anything in the world you want.”

“Satoru,” he caresses your cheek now, uncaring of the eyes around you both, the little murmurs, his eyes are locked all on you, as he brushes aside a tear you didn’t realize slipped. “You really just want to know me?”

“I do, I want to know you, even if we catch up and you never talk to me again, maybe it’s what I deserve.”

“You don’t-”

“I do not deserve any time. But please,” his own eyes shut, as he feels you trembling as his hand slips down your arm, over bare skin. “I want to know you’re good, that you’re okay, just anything you want to share with me.”

You turn away for a moment, and he curses under his breath, afraid of your answer, but you’re swiping tears, trying to compose yourself. You feel so much in that moment, in how deeply you still love him, that you just have to take a moment, before turning back around, eyes glimmering as you catch him, staring down at his feet, nervous like you.

“I’d love to catch up, I’d love to know how your life is,” you almost break down, blinking tears as his eyes meet yours again. “How about now?”

“Now!? Shit, yes. Now.” You giggle a bit, as he smiles, so boyish and charming, splitting your heart into a million pieces as he takes your hand, pausing. “Is that okay if I…”

“Yes,” you nod, and he tugs you along, you hear whispers of the models around, who surely all had crushes on him, but Satoru’s attention is undividedly on you. as your heart races in your chest. Your fingers intertwined as he brings you to his car now. “Satoru you drive?”

“I do.” He smiles a bit, brushing his fingers across the sleek Mercedes. “She’s my baby.”

“Is she now?” He grins and nods, opening the door. “I thought you had no license, honestly.”

“I’m wounded! No, I just don't usually drive, this car is special. Here,” he latches your seat belt in, your breath catches, he's so close you feel flustered by him. He comes to sit and smiles at you. “Where too, my lady?”

“Your lady hmm,” you're teasing but the words melt you. There's so much unsaid between you both that you don't think coffee is going to cover it, but you're willing to try it as a first step. “The one by my place? I stress baked cupcakes I can give you when you drop me off.”

“How many this time?” He chuckles as he turns, backing up. It's crazy to even see Satoru holding a steering wheel, it's far too attractive. 

“Like only three dozen. And I have brownies.”

“Pot brownies?”

“No!” You both laugh again, it's so fucking natural, it's so easy to be with him like this. Like the night you met him.

It gets a little quiet then, as you sit in the traffic, and he puts on his music from his phone. It's a quiet song, filling the new silence as the two of you sit there, scared to say the wrong thing.

You take a breath. Looking at him, the sun bright through the car window, illuminating his skin. He peers right back at you, hands gripping the wheel tightly, exhaling. You barely blink back more emotions, reaching a hand out then, resting it on one of his.

“Shit, I missed that.” He whispers softly, taking your hand gently and kissing it. Your heart breaks further, until the pain is so deep you can't breathe.

“I'm so sorry I pushed you away, I didn't give you a chance to explain things.” Your words are broken and hoarse, Satoru shakes his head, back focused on the road as he holds onto your hand tightly.

“I'm sorry that I pushed you into something that you never wanted.”

“You didn't push me…”

“I offered it, and I knew you weren't that girl. I knew it, but I was selfish,” he looks back at you, sadness in his blue depths. “I wanted to have it all, my career, you, keep everything in my life the same. Just better. It was selfish.”

“I was selfish, I did it to make sure you wouldn't be with anyone else.” Saying it out loud hurts, but you feel the weight come off your chest, as Satoru blinks tears, falling across his cheek and glimmering in the sun.

“You just wanted to please me, I don't think that's wrong. It was wrong of me to let you.”

“Don't bear all of the blame,” you lean close and kiss away his tears, the two of you stuck in more traffic now. His car parks, as he brushes his fingers across your face. “I should have told you how much it all meant, it was never just sex for me. I wasn't honest with you.”

He nods just a bit, but you see it, the regret on his face. “I wasn't honest with you about anything I felt either. I want to tell you so much, but it's too late.”

“It's not too late.” He sighs, the traffic moves as you sit back in your seat. Clutched tightly, your little hand in his huge one, protective and sweet, you've never missed something so badly.

“You're not with someone?”

“Satoru I work, come home and wallow on my couch. I'm not dating,” he visibly exhales. “And you're not…”

“No one.” His words are quiet, your heart pounds so loudly in your ears as he eyes you again, blue storms swirling with so much. “If this coffee goes okay, can I have a date? A real date?”

You can’t help but get flustered, visible to him the way you nibble on your thumb and shift in your seat, eyes lowering. “A date?”

“A real one. Flowers or some corny shit, fuck I'll get a corsage.”

“Satoru!” You're giggling, he sighs then at how good that sound hits his ears. “It’s not prom, silly.”

“God I love your laugh,” you pause, looking at him then. “Never told you that. The sound does something. It's contagious.”

“I love your smile,” his lip trembles at your teary declaration. “I missed it so badly, I hate that I made you lose it.”

“I hate that I made you cry, I hate that I said that shit.” You shake your head then, biting down on your lip once more, at a red light. It casts a soft glow on Satoru's face, as he tugs it from your teeth. “I didn't mean it.”

“I know you didn't, I should have accepted the apology. I felt so… lost though?” He manages a little nod, as he drives again, and you two just listen to the music in the car until he's right at that coffee shop.

“I went there because I just wanted to see you, it wasn't just sex for me.” He unseatbelts you with a quiet click, a hand pressing on your bare thigh as he looks into your eyes. His minty sweet breath caresses your face. “It was never just sex and that scared the fuck out of me. I wanted to explain it away as simply amazing sex.”

“It was more for you too?” He nods now, cupping your face in his hands, resting his forehead on yours as you two take each other in.

“So much more. I have a lot to tell you about me, it's not all gonna happen today. But I want you to know. And I want to know you, your life, things I didn't even care to find out then. If you will let me.”

“I will, Toru.” The nickname ends his control, he kisses you, just a sweet pop of his lips for a moment, and you melt in his embrace, he pulls back and his thumbs brush over your heated cheeks.

“Sorry, should I not do that? Can I not do that?” His concern is written all over his face then, while the blue eyes assess you gently.

“You can do that,” you press a kiss to his palm, thumb brushing along his inner wrist now. “Is this a date too?”

“Fuck, anything is a date if you want it.” You laugh a bit.

“A date with the Satoru Gojo?”

“Only with you,” you both step into the cozy ambiance of the Cafe, bustling as always. The aroma of coffee beans and sweets fills both of your noses. “Go grab a table, I'll get us two cups.”

You're so pretty sitting there, chin on your hand resting just so, smiling and watching him when he's walking back. And all he can think is how precious and right you feel, as he sits next to you in the booth, and you two sip on the sweet foam of the mocha hitting your lips. He has just a bit of foam on them you tentatively swipe off, the touch almost doing him in.

Just that motion is damn near too much for him, your fingers on his lips as you smile, so nervous, bringing back that night. Did he fall in love with you then? Was something like that even possible? He can’t explain it any other way, from the moment he saw you and how you filled his mind, changed him forever. Your hand falls as he contemplates you carefully, scared it’s some dream.

“You remember my favorite?” He nods, not realizing just that speaks volumes.

You love him.

You're always going to love him.

You ache to say it, but you want that to be the right moment. The hurt is so raw and new, and you two both feel that tension, the way that you both feel terrible for how it all went, the way you missed each other. You sit next to him, a hand comfortably resting on your thigh, it feels so right, the touch. You’re so starved from the lack of him, the lack of his nearness.

“I want to learn anything you want to share.” You tell him softly, as he massages your thigh with his thumb in little circles.

“So do I. Where's photography fit in? Do you still do design?”

“I still do that, I think I needed a distraction. How did you get into modeling?”

“Really connected agents and being stupidly attractive.” You’re laughing, shaking your head. “Gonna deny it?”

“You’re ridiculous.” He’s grinning so big then, you know how terribly you missed that, tugging at your own lips in return, making you smile with him. “I love how your eyes light up.”

He pauses, heart hammering at your soft words, words you’ve held back, and he feels his own tumble out, when his hand squeezes your thigh gently. “I love how sweet you are.”

You feel it, that barrier falling, the one that’s terrified to open up again, but he’s trying to, you just see it. You take a breath, smiling with trembling lips. “I love how caring you are, how you notice things no one else does.”

Drawn to you even closer, he swallows nervously, Adams apple bobbing while he brushes your hair back. “I miss your scent, I catch a hint of it and look for you.”

“You do?” Your voice is soft, as the moment feels so surreal, you couldn’t even have dreamt this, pictured this. He nods quickly, while your hand rests over his, feeling the veins under your fingertips while you two cozy up in the little coffee shop.

“I do miss it, I miss everything. Not just… you know… that.” He blushes a little, rubbing the back of his neck as you feel your own cheeks heat at the memories.

“Me too. Everything.” It takes everything in Satoru not to kiss you again, not a sweet little press of the lips like earlier - he wants to make sure your mouth is swollen from his kisses. He wants you so badly it’s hard to think, to inhale your scent in his nostrils as he tastes your sweet skin, to just fucking hold you.

A mix of everything at once so overwhelming he is trembling, you notice and look at him, lashes lowering as your hearts both race, and his head leans down, coming to rest on yours. You feel tears pricking your eyes at how badly you craved this, craved his presence, in any form at all. You didn’t know this would be a possibility, the way you two speak now, the way you don’t stop the contact.

That first night you met, you two couldn’t stop talking, and for a shy girl like you it was entirely new, it was so different and special, all to happen again for you both, to be so connected and the ease that your words flow. It’s natural, so right to speak to him, to listen to him, as you both recount what you’ve missed in the months alone, making the longing even deeper.

You’d missed so much.

He’d missed so much.

Eventually taking far, far too long to just drink coffee together, he’s taken you back home. You hesitate a bit before inviting him in, remembering the pain of that moment you asked him to leave, and realizing what he’ll see if he comes in. He feels your hesitation, clearing his throat then, and taking your hand in his.

“I don’t have to come in if you’re not ready,” you shake your head quickly. “It’s understandable.”

“It’s not that at all, it’s…” your couch is a mess, the living room table littered with wine bottles and pizza boxes. You have been in such deep depression that the area alone stays messy, while you stress clean the entire house. How do you show him that side of you, a side you don’t know how to explain?

“You can just go in and bring ‘em out, it’s okay.” He’s smiling again, you sigh then, shaking your head.

“If we’re going to start over, I think you should know parts of me that aren’t the best.” He frowns a bit in confusion as you unlock the door, he remembers every bit of your home of course, but when he looks over to your couch he sees it.

He’s quiet as you shut the door behind him, tense as you know this isn’t how a normal person acts, the devastation you’ve been in, the place you rot away and cry about him. The place you numb yourself, after acting happy all fucking day, you know it’s not normal to be this affected by a couple weeks with someone.

But it was you, and you didn’t want to hide anymore.

“Shit…” He murmurs, you slip your purse on the counter, while he slowly walks up to you, hands on your waist, you feel the emotions you’ve barely held together about to crumble when he tugs you against him, wrapping his arms around you.

“It’s embarrassing, that’s why I hesitated.” You admit softly, letting him hold you right in your kitchen, but it wasn’t like last time - it was not sexual, it’s caring, it’s a tight hold you never want to leave.

“You were hurting that badly, why didn’t you just…” He exhales, kissing your head then. “You could have told me, fuck I’d have been here.”

“I pushed you away, I hurt you too.” Your words are true, he’s been devastated without you, but the physical evidence is glaring in how you took it.

“We hurt each other,” he admits, you nod, looking up at him and sighing, he tilts your ching up now, the feel of him against you filling things that were empty before and in his absence. “There’s so much I want to say, but for now… let me just help clean this up.”

“No, please, I’ll clean it before you come over again.” He’s already shaking his head. “Satoru, that's embarrassing.”

“It’s not. Where’s the cleaning shit?” He’s already tall and lanky in your kitchen, bending over and opening cabinets now. He’s doing anything to avoid the knowledge you hurt like that for so fucking long, the sweet and bubbly girl he met living like that breaks him so deeply he can’t even tap into how much it hurts.

“It was just… a spot I left that way I guess.” You grimace and help him then, grabbing trash bags as you eye the mess you’ve made of the couch.

It’s abundantly clear the spot you sat in for six months every day after work, while he starts throwing out empty boxes and bottles of wine with you. You’re not as embarrassed with him as you thought you’d be, he doesn’t make you feel that way, he just helps you, methodically throwing things out. The wine bottles clink as they hit, he eyes a couple of them and smirks.

“These are so cheap and shitty.”

“Well excuse me!” You’re laughing then, even through your tears, he gives you a sad little smile, continuing to tidy up. You tackle the table you haven’t seen in months with a sponge, he starts folding your several plush blankets all tangled up, frowning a bit.

“You sleep here too?” He asks, you nod a bit. 

“I would just watch movies till I cried myself to sleep.” You take a shaky breath, wiping the table down with a towel as Satoru’s lips open, as if to speak, but he just smiles again.

“I’ll take these out.” He walks the trash out as you go to the kitchen, spotless in comparison to that area, that was the one place you let it all just be chaos, let the hurt sink in.

Now he’s here, and you don’t even know how to act, you hurt him and pushed him away, and he’s here to pick up your pieces. He steps back in, walking over to you as you both look at each other, his hands slipping down your arms gently, you take several breaths, biting your lower lip as he tugs you closer. It’s quiet, all the things you both want to say on the tip of your tongues.

“I’m so sorry you hurt like that,” he finally says, cupping your face, you touch his hand and sniffle a bit, nodding.

“I hurt you too, though, I felt so horrible for it, I think it made everything worse.”

“Don’t,” he shakes his head now. “I didn’t know how to not be sexual, you were right about me.”

“But you-”

“No,” he puts a finger to your lips, sighing now as he feels them under his finger, smoothing that indentation of your teeth and watching your lashes lower. “The club, I just proved you right.”

You flush as you remember that, the wanton way you’d arched for him, how you’d squirted, sucked his fingers. God you were a mess for him so easily, after saying you didn’t want that you fell back into it with ease. If he were to do it now you would, but he keeps his touches chaste, careful, leaning down and tilting your chin up, letting you look into his eyes.

“I originally made it sexual then demanded more-”

“No, you needed more. You told me, and I didn’t give it. I…” he trails off, sighing now. “I never knew how to be affectionate, sex to me was affection. It’s all I knew how to do in that moment, when you needed more.”

“But you didn’t have to give more. That was me.”

“I want more, I still want more.” You can hardly comprehend that those words are coming from his perfect lips, your heart racing now. “There’s a lot I want to say, but I don’t think we should unpack this all today. And I want to see you again.”

“I want to see you again.” Your hand slips up his chest, as he wraps an arm around your waist. “Thank you for today, for everything. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I helped cause that depression, so of course I should help clean it up.” He’s emotional, imagining the girl he fucking loves - yes he loves you - just sobbing on a messy couch. He swallows it down, along with the urge to kiss every part of your body, knowing he just can’t right now.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” the sobs break now, you can’t hold them back when you’re in his arms, face pressed against his chest, body shaking as he tries to stroke your back, your arms. “I felt so horrible making you go.”

“It was the best thing, you deserved more than I gave.”

“Satoru! No…”

“Yes.” He cups your face, swiping your tears as he holds back his own, shaking his head again. “You deserve everything, fuck I was so unsure I could ever give it you you I never thought you’d even fucking feel that way for me.”

“You underestimate how amazing you are,” he nuzzles your palm when you lean up and touch his cheek gently. “You deserve everything.”

“I want you to know, I haven’t… nothing since you.” You blink in surprise, lashes still dripping tears that he presses sweet kisses on, bending at the waist. “I couldn’t be with anyone.”

“Me either, Toru.” He kisses you again, sweet and salty from your tears, as his own eyes get glassy with emotion.

“You promised me brownies and cookies, I earned my keep now.” You laugh then, it’s so freeing, his pretty grin just a little crooked as you step back.

“You did! Of course, come on.” You go to grab them out of the fridge, he hates that even now he’s eyeing your ass like that, he knows he can’t yet, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t desire your body too.

He’ll always desire you, every bit of you, the thoughts eating him at night, the amount of times he’s played with himself to your memory is ridiculous. But he is making sure that takes a back seat, what you need is comfort, clearly, the sadness just shows, like you’re keeping it together just a bit for him. You get a pretty flowery tupperware and start stacking them for him as he is enamored with your every movement.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says softly, you pause, snapping the lid on, all puffy cheeked from crying.

“I probably look like a mess,”

“You’re always beautiful.” He steps closer, kissing your forehead now. “Not just your pretty face or your sexy body,” now his voice drops an octave, fucking your mind, body and heart up as you look at the man you love. “Something about you, it’s in here, that shit sounds corny huh?”

“No, it doesn’t,” he’s touching your chest, feeling your heartbeat under his palm racing and fluttering. You put yours on his, feeling the slow athletic beat he’s always had kicked up just a bit. “You are too, Satoru, much more than your looks.”

Those words hit harder than he knew they would, it’s always been his looks, since he met his ex. Everything was his potential, and even if his personality was something that carried him, it always felt like people wanted him for his looks. His eyes, his body, his lips.

But you never just wanted that, he knows it now.

“Fuck,” he can’t even hold back this one kiss, the one where he’s pinning you against the counter, and you’re whining out, that cute breathy cry that ends him. “I missed you so fucking much.”

“Me too, me too…” your words are muffled with his lips, hungry and desperate on yours, the kiss he’s held for you for months, the one he played over and over in his head. If he ever got a chance, if he ever got to hold you again, he pours it all then, in that moment with you.

“Satoru…” You’re whispering his name as he bends over, taking over your senses, mouth devouring yours, so messy then, his tongue slipping in your mouth, possessing it. You cling to his dress shirt, nails pressing against his back over the fabric as his hands slip down your waist, gripping your hips and tugging you closer.

He whispers your name, a soft whine as he looks at you with those cerulean depths lit up, breaths faster, kissing you over and over, as if he’ll never get enough. You lose yourself, your entire body on fire - nipples pressed against your sweater, tummy clenched with the desire you haven’t felt once before or after him, your pulse racing in your ears.

“God I missed this,” he says then, breaking away to take a breath, you kiss him again, sweet, god you’re sweet. God he loves kissing you, holding you, looking into eyes behind fogged up glasses, so adorable it tugs at him with affection. “You’re so adorable.”

“I need windshield wipers.” He laughs then, a genuine laugh, as you giggle, he tugs your glasses off and kisses you again, hands gripping your face after he sets them on the counter next to the baked goods.

It wasn’t just an exaggeration, it wasn’t him making the thoughts more than they were, the kisses just were like this with you. Life altering movements of plush lips melding to each other, hands warming each other's skin, he can’t get enough - god he wants more, but he holds back, until he can’t anymore, tugging away just a bit and taking a breath, trailing his fingers down your curves slowly.

“I want more, I don’t want you to think it was just your body,” he says then, you nod quickly, understanding, even as your breasts heave up and down with your quick breaths. “God I wanna fucking tear this off you.”

“Mnh…” you bury your face against his chest, feeling his heart beat against your cheek quicker now, as you nod against him. “I want it too, Satoru I… I felt so sexual because I just already had feelings. It was always more for me.” He exhales, pressing another kiss to your heated cheek, blushing against his lips, hot to the touch.

“I knew that, and I still was selfish.” Admitting it sucked, it fucking hurt, but he knows he needs to do more, say more.

“So was I.”

“I don’t think you have a selfish bone in your pretty body.” You laugh softly.

“I do. For you.”

“Selfish for me?” His husky voice drives you insane, you nod when he moans, kissing you again, thigh pressing between yours, when he feels your heat it almost takes him out. “Fuck… maybe you’ll show me how selfish some day.”

“M-maybe I will…”

He chuckles again, pulling back. “You’re too cute.”

“Oh you always said that.” You’re smiling though, he sees it and it tears him up, how beautiful the sight is for his eyes again.

“You are cute, you’re adorable. I love that about you… I… deleted those, so you know, okay?” Your eyes widen in surprise then.

“You did?”

“The moment you said you regretted them, it wasn’t right to keep it up. I want you to know, no one knows it was you, I guess except your friend and me.”

“Of course, I knew you’d never share that information.”

“I shouldn’t have asked you, I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Satoru…”

“No,” he cuts you off softly, you’re back in his arms now, snuggled in his embrace. “I am furious I showed anyone that perfect pussy, y’know that?”

You pause at the declaration, looking up at him. “Really?”

“God yes,” he laughs without humor then. “I hate that others saw you, it was already making me angry, but I was so stuck up my own self.”

“Just know I forgive you, and I don’t blame it all on you.” He nods then, the relief from your words letting his broad shoulders rest just a bit. “Thank you for taking them down, but I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You did regret it.”

“I didn’t regret being with you on video, I um… regretted others seeing it. Me and you? It felt too intimate, too special,” your hands entwine as you speak, his long fingers against your much smaller ones, feeling so warm and good. You shut your eyes as you try to gather your thoughts. “I regretted anyone seeing us together.”

“It was special,” his words bring your gaze back. “It was intimate, and I wish we kept it to us now.”

“You do?”

“God yes, the fact that anyone jerked it to you? Makes me unreasonably fucking mad now,” you bury your face against his chest again, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin. “All I could think was ‘pussy is mine’.”

You blink in surprise. “You thought that?”

“Did I think that, yes of course I did. I thought a lot I didn’t say,” he sighs now, kissing your forehead again so sweetly as his phone rings. He frowns, and you step back a bit as he checks it. “I’m suddenly free this Saturday, how about you?”

“I’m free!” You say it so quickly he laughs.

“Sweetheart,” the way he says it after so long makes you tremble with need, as he brushes back your hair. “I can’t begin to say how much I missed you.”

“Me too, god so much. Feel like you’re some dream.” He feels the same, god he does, like this isn’t real, when you two kiss again, this time it’s too much, he’s so close to losing his control.

Satoru’s hands are on your hips, while you feel like your home is here, right on his perfect lips. He’s delving his tongue in your mouth feverish and heated now, before he picks you up, thighs on either side of his hips, sitting you on the counter. You’re lost in him, like the sweetest drink or most addicting drug, arms wrapping his neck as his hardness presses.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he murmurs again, you whine and roll your hips, when he litters kisses down the side of your neck. “I miss this so much.”

“I miss it, I miss you. Need you.” He exhales at that, his hands slipping up bare thighs over your knee socks, thumbs pressing the softness of your inner thighs, you’re whining out at it. “I only want you.”

“God me too,” he’s so close to slipping those soaked panties to the side, as he tugs you closer, and you take a breath, trying to get your composure, lips swollen from his kisses. “So beautiful.”

“I feel beautiful with you,” he moans and kisses you again, hands pressing deep, so deep he’ll bruise you as they wrap your thighs, and he groans. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs as he pulls back, looking at you spread for him, picturing sinking to his knees and worshipping you. “You look too good, I need to go.”

“I feel the same. I think I should… bake more.” He laughs again, the sound so bright it melts you, as he helps you down, sliding you across his hard body slowly. “Bake a lot and then take a cold shower.”

“A cold shower sounds good to me too.” He cups your face then, tilting your chin up and brushing his thumb on your lips. “Make no mistake, we need time, but when you’re ready if I ever get another chance at you? I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk.”

“Toru mnh…” He’s moaning and kissing you again, it takes everything not to let him, not to beg for it. But you both need to take a breath. It’s too raw, it’s too fresh, and there’s so much. “I want to know so much more about you.”

“I do too. Not just every inch of your body, though that thought is raging,” he’s pouting and you’re giggling again, brightening your pretty eyes. “I wish I’d just listened to you then. But my feelings were hurt.”

“I get it, I really do. So, Saturday huh?”

“Saturday.” He kisses you again, and soon he’s walking to the door, as the memories of the last time he was here hit.

“Fuck,” you hate how they rush in, stealing your breath. He looks at you, frowning as he holds the little tupperware you gave him. “I hated myself for doing it.”

“No, sweets, don’t. Don’t hate yourself, okay?” You’re swiping tears again.

“I’m a mess.”

“Beautiful mess,” his words make you lean up to kiss him again, his free hand wraps you, while the two of you stand in your quiet entry way, just the sounds of your breaths and kisses filling the room. “I want you to be my beautiful mess.”

“I want to be yours.” He sighs, kissing your palm and then your hand, things he never thought he’d do, but he wants to with you.

“I don’t want to fuck this up, I never thought I’d even see you again, not even sure I deserve to kiss you.”

“Let me figure out what you deserve, what I want. Okay?” He nods then, swallowing nervously and taking a breath. “Text me when you get home safe.”

“I will, good night sweets.” The little nicknames nearly do you in again, when you smile and lean on the doorway, he’s waving when he gets in his car, hesitating before he pulls off.

What if he doesn’t see you again?

The panic sets in his heart, he knew he missed you, but he didn’t know the depths of the fear until now, as he sees your hand wave back at him, sees your silhouette in the doorway. He steps out of his car, walking back up as you shut your door, stepping forward when he’s kissing you again.

“One more.” He murmurs, so sweet you’re done for, god it’s all back - it never left - but being in his arms? His presence? His desperate needy kiss?

You’re hugging him over his shoulders, kissing him right back, the sky is all pinks and golds as the sun sets, casting shadows on that silvery hair, bringing out the little streaks of lavender. You’re taking a slow breath, heart feeling like it’s whole for the first time since that day you sent him away, the day you did the thing that hurt you the most, but he’s here.

He’s here.

All of him.

“Sorry,” you shake your head, cupping his face. He’s a couple steps down as you stand on your deck, enough you’re almost face to face with him. “I can’t help it.”

“Don’t say sorry, I love your kisses. I missed them.” He moans and kisses you again, feeling your gravity tugging him so close that it feels wrong to back away. “You could just stay and cuddle? Or just stay. You don’t have to go home if you don’t want to, you know.”

“If I stay no way it’s just fucking cuddling, you’re expecting too much from a former pornstar you know,” You blush then at his insinuation, when he backs away again. “Good night baby.”

“Good night again, Toru.”

He laughs as he goes back to the car, your heart hurts when he drives off, but the weight feels so lifted, the sorrow and self loathing of pushing the man you love away. It was so hard to let that go, to let go his tears when he begged you to keep him around, but now you know it was the right decision, as you pass by a freshly cleaned couch later that evening, eyeing your phone.

You always sit there, but tonight instead, you go to your room, the bed you’ve not gone near in so long. You snuggle up, pulling up a book for the first time in months, and you can almost read it, but you’re so stuck in your thoughts of him, of his kisses and his pretty blue eyes, of the energy of him, his scent left behind. A scent you missed so fucking badly.

Instead of wine and pizza, it’s a water bottle next to your nightstand, when you get it - his text.

Satoru - I got a little busy. I'm sorry, I’m home now. Suguru was having a moment

You - that’s fine! I’m glad you’re home safe

Satoru sighs, looking at the phone as he lays in his bed, picturing you right here in his arms, he’d stroke your hair, he’d press kisses along your skin. He’d hold you here forever if you fucking let him. Even now, there’s so much more he has to say, but he wants to give you the perfect date, one you deserve. He wants to share more of who he is with you.

Today, seeing that side of you made it so much more raw, the pain you must have felt, how hard it was to push him away. He never resented you for it, even though it killed him, deep down he knew why you did it, but instead of trying to fix it, he made it all fucking worse that night.

Satoru - I can’t wait to see you again.

He’d never say that before, he’d have made some sexy joke or some silly comment, not just be vulnerable. And it was terrifying to do it, his heart hammering in his chest as he sits up in his bed. He looks next to him, remembering you right there, remembering fucking you all night, waking up and fucking you again, but he thinks of all the times he could have done more.

Just held you, just kissed you, of course he wanted you - god he’s never wanted anyone like you - but he wishes he did even more. Hold your hand, at that damn dinner said ‘no she’s my girlfriend’ fuck he wanted to. He wishes he could have held you so close to him, let everyone know you’re his. Friend, what a joke, he never was your friend.

He always wanted more and didn’t even know what it was.

You - me too, I’m so excited!

He’s torn between being so happy and smiling, but also feeling that sadness of seeing that couch with you. The pain he saw in your eyes that night at the club, but he was so consumed, he couldn’t realize what was glaringly apparent. Your confessions he was so fucking scared to return.

He can’t wait to say it, that he loves you.

He never thought he’d get a chance.

You- I hope you have sweet dreams Satoru.

He smiles at that sadly - It’s been nothing without you, darkness.

You bite your lip as he types - It’s been nightmares for you.

Satoru- you too, sweetheart.

The two of you can hardly stand it, feeling each other’s kisses lingering on your skin, inhaling the scent of each other in your nostrils. Hugging those pillows tight and picturing each other. But for once, instead of you sobbing and him tossing and turning, the two of you fall asleep, wishing Saturday would come quickly, so you two can start over again, and not fuck it up so badly.

we will get back to this being sexy next chap aha

Taglist 1 - @juicu @kalulakunundrum @gojoswaterbottle @aldebrana @simp-plague @wedojustbevibin @lucciferr0 @officialholyagua @privthemis @coffee-and-geto @homesickes @msniks @emi311 @mai-505 @ren-ren23 @yihona-san06 @emochosoluvr @sylvermoon @bunheadusa @karvokr @starmapz @queenexplosonmurderr @musiclover2119 @saitamaswifey @reagan707 @midorissi @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @itsinherited @maisiefrancesca @gyarubunny @theonlyhonoredone @chosslut @simperisksksk @xlilycoco @howlsdarling @femaholicc @maymaymarch @miseryyouth-99 @swoozleee @zeunys @cryingdevil @leafynightmares @princess-bblgm @gojosconsort @insomnicshello @joonunivrs @myahfig4 @silviscosplay @iluvjjkmennn @nutellajade

[mooningningg]

ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇx, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡᴇʟʟ.

Gojo, Toji, Sukuna, and Naoya.

Genre, fluff. Notes, requests please?

Gojo Satoru

You didn’t even mean anything by it.

“I went there once… years ago. My ex took me on a trip there.”

Silence. Then:

“Ohhh,” Gojo hums, lips pulling into a wide grin as he adjusts his sunglasses, “Your ex took you to Kyoto? Wow. Must’ve been super romantic. Did he also buy you, like, a plastic fan and tell you about his favorite anime character?”

You blink. “Satoru—”

“No, no, I’m just wondering how that even worked,” he continues dramatically, hands flying in mockery. “Like, did you both cry over temple aesthetics together? Or did he just cry when you made him pay for dinner?”

“Satoru.”

He gasps and clutches his chest. “Was it serious? Were you gonna marry him? Did he also wear sunglasses indoors, or was that just a me thing?”

You groan and look out the car window as he starts driving.

Gojo huffs and mutters under his breath, still loud enough for you to hear. “I’d take you to fucking Paris and still get compared to discount Kyoto boy Then louder: “Bet he couldn’t even make you laugh. With that basic-ass itinerary.”

“…Satoru.”

“I’m not mad,” he says, sulking like a kicked puppy. “I just think he’s a clown and I’m better. That’s all.”

Toji Fushiguro

You’re sitting on the couch together, talking casually, when it slips out.

“He used to cook that for me too—my ex, I mean.”

Toji stills, fork halfway to his mouth.

You glance up. “What?”

He chews once. Slowly. Sets the fork down on the plate.

Then he looks at you with that Toji Fushiguro face—calm, blank, unreadable—but there’s a flicker of something behind his eyes.

“That so?” he says flatly.

“It’s just something he used to—”

“Didn’t ask what he used to do,” he cuts in. He leans back against the couch, eyeing you like he’s re-evaluating your entire life choice. “He still breathing?”

“Toji.”

He gives a single dry laugh and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Just curious. You talk about him like I’m supposed to give a shit.”

You open your mouth.

He leans closer, resting an arm on the back of the couch, voice dropping low.

“You’re in my house. In my shirt. Eating my food. Think I wanna hear about some guy who couldn’t keep you?”

The silence is thick.

“…You jealous?” you ask softly.

Toji’s gaze stays locked on you, jaw tight. “No,” he says. “I’m pissed off. That’s different.”

Sukuna

You’re both lying in bed. The fan is whirring. Your legs are tangled under the blanket.

“He used to hate when I did that too,” you murmur without thinking, resting your cheek against Sukuna’s bare shoulder.

Sukuna blinks. His whole body stiffens.

“…The fuck did you just say?”

You look up. “Huh?”

“Who the fuck’s ‘he’??” he spits, eyes narrowing like you just cursed him out.

“My ex,” you mumble, suddenly feeling like you poked a wolf.

Sukuna scoffs, shoving the blanket off his chest. “You’re thinking about that limp-dicked shitbag while you’re in my bed? Christ, what is wrong with you?”

“Sukuna—”

He’s already on a roll. “Don’t even remember his name and you’re over here reminiscing like it was some great fuckin’ love story. I bet he couldn’t even make you cum.”

You shove his arm, blushing. “It wasn’t like that—”

“Oh, I know it wasn’t,” he snaps, curling a hand around your waist and yanking you closer, voice dropping to a hiss. “Because if it was, you wouldn’t be in my bed now, would you?”

You pout. “I wasn’t comparing—”

“Good. ‘Cause there’s no fuckin’ competition.”

Naoya Zen’in

You’re walking together through a quiet plaza when you laugh, pointing at a little restaurant tucked into the corner.

“My ex took me there once. Weird food, but kinda charming—”

Naoya stops in his tracks.

You keep walking. “Naoya?”

He catches up. Doesn’t look at you.

His voice is dry. Deadpan.

“Wow. Great. Let’s talk about your ex. That’s exactly what I wanted to do today.”

You blink. “It just popped in my head.”

He scoffs under his breath. “Of course he’d take you there. Basic-ass place for a basic-ass man.”

You try to smile. “Jealous?”

Naoya glares. “Jealous? No. I just think it’s fucking stupid to bring up someone irrelevant.”

“Wow,” you mumble, “calm down.”

“I am calm.” He speeds up his walking like he’s storming a runway. “I just don’t like talking about people who aren’t worth shit. Especially while I’m holding your damn hand.”

You jog to keep up, barely holding in your laugh.

He mutters, “If I see that guy in public, I’m tripping him. I swear to god.”

[rawjutsu]

chapter two.

pairing: snow leopard hybrid!gojo x bunny hybrid!femreader

keep up here

while you’re not fully adjusted to city life yet, it’s getting easier. you don’t think you’ll ever be completely accustomed to living with gojo satoru, but that’s getting a little easier too.

you’ve learned some survival tricks. like always showering before him. and always putting on a sweatshirt—or at least a bra—before you leave your room, because he loves keeping the ac cranked to arctic tundra levels. another thing?

don’t try to befriend him. because he will take it too far.

you’d figured, since you're stuck living with this guy until you can afford your own place, you might as well try to get along. you can’t help it if your rabbit instincts scream predator every time he so much as glances your way—but you can try to ignore them.

it starts with dinner. you’ll never forget the first time you sit across from him at the little kitchen table, sliding over a plate of leftover sushi rolls with a shaky little “thanks for letting me crash here” smile.

satoru freezes mid-bite, blinking like a cartoon character. then he flashes you that grin that makes your fur stand on end.

“aww, how sweet. bunny girl’s finally coming around.”

now… dinner becomes routine.

you still flinch when his knee bumps yours under the table, but the urge to flee has dulled into a low, steady thrum instead of a full-blown siren.

dinner was tolerable. then satoru started insisting on tagging along for errands. he called them “roomie bonding days.” grocery shopping. helping you lug a new dresser up five flights of stairs. even walking with you to the landlord’s office to drop off rent checks.

it was weirdly domestic. and the rabbit part of you—wired to crave comfort and routine—secretly loved it, no matter how hard you tried to stifle it.

like now, when you’re checking out at the grocery store and satoru swipes his card before you even unzip your wallet, the old lady cashier squints at the two of you and makes a little noise.

“you and your boyfriend make quite the pair,” she says, nodding as she bags up satoru’s absolutely unholy mountain of meat.

you laugh politely. “he’s not my boyfriend, ma’am.”

satoru’s already grinning. “nah, but she wishes.”

you scowl, but the old woman completely ignores him.

“oh, that’s a relief,” she says, casual as anything.

you both blink. “…oh?”

she hesitates, then continues, “well… the world’s different now, i know that. but a small hybrid like yourself should really be with others like you. biology is biology,” she adds, like she’s saying something wise, not offensive. she flashes gojo a tight little smile. “it just wouldn’t work.”

you open your mouth to laugh awkwardly—keep the peace, be nice—but then something warm wraps around your waist.

you freeze. it’s satoru’s tail.

it curls around you like it belongs there.

“oh, it works, lady,” he says, dangerously smooth. “matter fact—”

he reaches toward the display near the register, grabs something, and slams it on the counter with a smirk.

“—ring this up for me.”

you look down. your brain short-circuits. a box of extra extra large condoms stares back at you.

the cashier sputters like she’s choking on air.

your mouth opens. no sound comes out.

then satoru hums, looking thoughtful. “hmm… actually, we don’t need ’em.” he grabs your hand and the rest of the bags in one go, then drags you out of the store before you can even breathe.

satoru, to his credit, doesn’t say anything about the deep flush still burning across your cheeks as you storm down the sidewalk, fuming and trying to match his long-legged stride.

“she was an old lady, satoru! you could’ve just ignored her!”

he shrugs, cool and unbothered. “i don’t stand for discrimination.”

“no, you just love humiliating me!”

“humiliating?? that old hag should be the one humiliated.”

“oh my god—the condoms, satoru!”

he stops walking abruptly, turning to face you. there’s that little smile again—and even with his sunglasses on, you can feel the glint in his eyes.

“huh. so that’s what this is about. you mad i didn’t actually buy them?” his voice drops an octave. “don’t worry, little bunny. i’ve got some back home.”

your eyes go wide. "you're an idiot!" you hiss, dropping your grocery bags to the hot concrete. “and you can carry these yourself!”

you whirl around and storm off toward the apartment, small fists clenched at your sides, ears twitching in agitation. your face is burning so bad it practically sizzles under the sun.

you’re back at the apartment, curled up on the sofa and angrily flipping through channels, trying not to feel guilty about ditching him to carry all those bags in the heat.

when he finally walks in, he’s glistening with sweat, white bangs plastered to his forehead, tail swishing like an agitated metronome.

he drops the bags on the kitchen counter with a dramatic sigh. “do you not know what a joke is?”

you scoff. “a joke? it’s a joke to imply you’re having sex with me?”

gojo groans, dragging a hand down his face. “that wasn’t about you. i was putting that crusty old fossil in her place.” he mutters the next part under his breath, “clearly we’re not having sex…”

you don’t hear it.

you frown. “you kept going, even after we left the store!”

he sighs again, this time deeper. “okay. yeah. that was too much. my bad.”

you blink. he looks—ugh—actually guilty. which is disarming. and yeah… he’s still sweaty. you sigh.

“it was a lot. but… i get it. in your own ‘satoru’ way, you were just standing up for yourself. or… for us, i guess. it’s not easy dealing with people like that.”.”

he doesn’t respond, just gives a vague nod, and you grimace.

“also,” you say quickly, “not to excuse your behavior or like… totally erase my anger, ‘cause i am still upset—but i get kind of extra sensitive when my heat’s coming. around certain themes.”

gojo’s expression flickers.

“themes?” he echoes, but his voice is suddenly lower. throatier.

you wave your hands like a maniac. “like—sex themes! i mean—not like sex-sex, just… the concept. and it’s hot! like, the weather is hot! it’s just… a bad combo!”

he lets out a slow exhale and makes a small “oh” sound, lips forming a perfect o. but there’s a tightness in his jaw you didn’t notice before. you think he’s looking at you, but you can’t really tell behind those stupid sunglasses.

“gotcha,” he says a little too fast. “so—no more sex jokes for now.”

“forever,” you deadpan.

“right. yeah.” he waves you off vaguely, turning around and practically bolting toward the hallway. “i’m gonna shower. i’m all sweaty thanks to you. don't bother me.”

he disappears into the bathroom before you can blink.

you frown. that was weirdly abrupt.

later that night, you’re buried in your sheets, eyes wide open as you stare at the ceiling in the dark.

you’ve flipped your pillow three times. turned on the fan. turned it off. even pulled out your phone and scrolled mindlessly through apps you weren’t even looking at.

but nothing helps.

because all you can think about is that damn box.

extra. extra. large.

you groan and bury your face in the pillow.

did he grab it just to mess with the lady? or… had he actually known exactly what size to reach for?

you shift in bed, thighs pressing together as an ache begins to settle deep in your belly. it’s stupid. hormonal. biological. you’re pre-heat, and your body’s craving comfort, intimacy—touch. but even knowing that, your brain still clings to the memory of gojo’s smug grin, his tail wrapped protectively around your waist.

your ears flatten in frustration. you are not going to think about him while you do this.

but ten minutes later, you're digging in your nightstand, grabbing your little pink vibrator. the second it buzzes to life, your breath catches.

you bite your lip and carefully pull your thin shorts down, exposing skin that’s already flushed and damp from the heat. the vibrator presses against your inner thigh first, teasing your sensitive skin as you close your eyes, trying to drown out every noisy thought.

your breath hitches when you finally slide it between your folds, soft and slick. the vibration throbs in waves, teasing your clit, sending sharp jolts of pleasure that make your toes curl.

your free hand grips the sheets tight as your hips start to rock involuntarily, seeking that perfect angle, that perfect pressure. your body trembles with each pulse, hot and sticky with sweat and desire.

you try not to think about him—his long legs, the way his tail sways, those mischievous dark eyes behind the sunglasses—but every memory is like a spark that sets your skin on fire. you imagine his fangs sinking into your neck, his rough tongue flicking over your skin, and your knees clench tighter.

the buzzing grows louder in your ears, mixing with your ragged breathing and the faintest whimpers that escape your lips. your ears flatten, cheeks burning as you squeeze your eyes shut, picturing the way your nose scrunches when you glare at him, how your floppy ears pull back in fear or frustration.

you’re so close now, hips trembling with the delicious tension, your heartbeat pounding in your ears like thunder.

you don’t know it, but just a wall away, satoru’s eyes snap open.

his ears twitch.

and then flatten back against his head.

the low, steady hum of your vibrator is faint—but he hears it. he can’t not hear it. his hearing picks up everything. the way your breathing catches. the soft shuffle of your sheets.

and that tiny, nearly inaudible moan.

gojo clenches his jaw so hard it aches. his fists twist in his sheets. his cock is already hard, throbbing against the band of his sweats, angry and hot and desperate.

but he doesn't move.

he just lays there, teeth bared, tail flicking in agitation.

this is your fault.

you're the one touching yourself.

you're the one being unbearably cute and annoyingly sexy without even trying.

and he's the one losing sleep over it.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

taglist: @satorupied, @mashtura, @auucz, @littlemissfix-itfic, @luv3nti, @sukunawhores, @nx-0w, @rh-tg1, @sugacor3, @victoria1676, @arabellasolstice, @qardasngan, @entr4p3, @maddy24207, @maah-sama, @izzybluebells, @penguingirlanzu, @levislug, @moonlight-inthe-sea, @coffeeluvr96, @surethingmoto, @shokosbunny, @kaboomkayla, @ddumgum, @nanam1nz, @universal-s1ut, @sixtiesweetheart, @sleepyyammy, @ilovebeansyay, @mxlktae, @gojousatoruswifey, @haithamsbb, @storuhrts, @satorugirlie, @aldebrana, @00anymous00, @lilychan176, @xxwelshqueenxx, @misswonderfrojustice, @thikcems, @pickledsoda, @19catspiledontopofeachother, @fanf1ctionislife

[burgojo]

THE PRETTY RECKLESS. FUSHIGURO MEGUMI / M!READER

summary. "my parents aren't home" is a hell of a text to get from your reserved boyfriend. now you have to see what's going on, don't you?

wc. 7.4k

tags. smut | sub bottom megumi, top reader, they're both 20yo+, reader is described as big + fights like a brawler (to fit with megumi's shikigami [:), fingering, oral + rimming (megumi receiving), brief thigh fucking, size difference (skinny megumi (it's the gojo genes, it's out of my control)), belly bulge, multiple orgasms, untouched orgasms, doggy style, light mind break/humiliation. gojo makes an appearance at the end.

notes. ngl aging up characters feels a little strange to me? idk if i'll do it again lol

[ requested ]

Megumi is sore, tired, and cranky. Crankier than usual, anyway. His state wasn't helped by his boyfriend, who seemed to have limitless energy and always had a one-liner on hand, who had skipped him back home, planted a kiss on his lips at his doorstep, and promptly skedaddled before Satoru found them canoodling. His mood had soured immediately upon his departure.

His rush to get away was inconsequential, however, as Megumi later found a handwritten note on the kitchen counter regarding Satoru's cross-country midnight snack run.

Megumi's thumb hovers over the 'send' button on his phone.

Come over. Gojo's out.

He debates the idea.

His vices get the better of him.

His phone pings. I love it when you're rebellious! Be there in ten.

Ten minutes? Knowing you, you'd only need five. You liked him so much it was rather embarrassing, and he never hesitated to tell you so – all you did, however, was grin brightly at him and agree.

Regardless, this gives him a few minutes to kill. He'll clean up his room before you arrive.

Six minutes later, there's a soft knock on his balcony door. He glances up from where he sits on his bed, tugging his headphones down around his neck. Beyond the glass are the twinkling night lights of Tokyo, steel spires and reflective glass points jutting up into the black night sky. Unfortunately, he can't see any stars, but the little red lights blinking atop skyscrapers are calming enough.

He sets his laptop aside and rises to his feet. He slides open the door and glances up.

You grin down at him, stuck to the side of the building by the palm of your hand and the soles of your shoes. You look quite comfortable, crouched against the glassy surface, despite being thirty storeys up from being a pancake on the footpath.

"How's it hanging?" you greet with a wave. "All clear on the inside?"

"Mhm." He nods. "Come on in. Cold outside."

He turns, leaving the door open. You land on the balcony with nary a sound, kicking off your shoes and tucking them in the shadowy corner between his potted hosta plants. It was a space he made for you, as he shared a balcony with Satoru, and it wasn't visible beneath the broad hanging leaves unless you crouched down.

You slip inside and lock the door with a soft click, watching with a soft smile as Megumi taps away at his laptop, completing a section of his mission report. He doesn't like to leave paragraphs unfinished.

While he scowls at his screen, you dip into his bathroom to wash your hands and fix your hair. It gets windy after you clear the twentieth floor.

You waltz out, humming softly and shucking off your jacket. You toss it over his desk chair. "So, you called for me? What's on the itinerary tonight?"

He shuts his laptop, setting it aside. He wiggles his toes in his socks, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Dunno. Didn't think this far ahead."

"Nah, I don't believe that for a second. You're always thinking. 'The quiet ones have the loudest minds', right?"

He rolls his eyes but allows a small smile to tug at his lips. He leans back on his palms as you take a seat on his bed, draping yourself over his sheets. You prop yourself up on an elbow, and the twist of your body offers him a straight-through view down the gape of your baggy t-shirt. He stares, unabashed, as he replies.

"Mm... I'm definitely thinking of something right now."

Your grin turns sharp. You tilt your head. "Like you weren't thinking this the first time you texted me, Megumi. You have exactly two thoughts about me, and you're not calling me a loudmouthed idiot so I can only assume it's thought number two."

"You are a loudmouthed idiot." He allows you to scoot closer and slip his headphones off from around his neck, setting them next to his laptop on his bedside table. You hover over him as he settles back into his pillows with a soft sigh, spreading his thighs to fit you between them. He places his hands on your waist. "You going to put words in my mouth, now? Gonna guess what I'm thinking?"

You grin, rolling your hips against his. He sucks in a breath. "I could put a few things in your mouth... 'Words' aren't on the list."

"You're a dog," he mumbles, pale cheeks flushing. "Stupid."

"Oh, you like it," you say playfully, patting his cheek. "Getting shy, are we? C'mon, Megumi, don't clam up now! Tell me what you want from me. If I need to be, I can be quiet."

"Tsumiki's not here this week," he mutters, lifting his hands to your shoulders and tracing your collarbones. "No need."

"Well, all the better for me, huh? I get to pull as many pretty sounds out of you as I want and nobody can stop me." You tug on the bottom of his basketball shorts, sliding it up his leg. You sit up, pulling Megumi's thighs on top of yours.

He stares down at himself, his cheeks reddening. Christ. He swears one of your thighs is as big as his waist. He shudders out a breath as you tug your shirt over your head – grabbing it from the back of the neck in that Hollywood-jock way – and toss it aside carelessly, all too eager to put your hands on him.

"This is what you wanted, right?" you ask, tugging up his shirt to reveal his lean stomach. You place a hand against it, measuring the size, and Megumi twitches in his shorts. "Otherwise, shirt goes back on and I'm raiding your fridge."

He rolls his eyes, grabbing your hair and yanking you down to push his mouth against yours. You groan softly and he pulls at your belt, deftly undoing it with one hand. It eventually slips off the bed with a soft clink, but neither of you care.

"You can steal the juice after you fuck me, you walking stereotype," he mutters against your lips. "Unfortunately for you, no one here drinks."

"Damn," you say, not particularly disappointed. "Is it orange juice?"

"Yeah. The expensive, sustainably-produced kind with the pulp."

"That might be better than any vodka. Quick, strip for me. I wanna see what other fun stuff you have in the pantry. Do you have any square watermelons?"

Megumi kicks you in the hip, making you flinch and groan. "I'll break up with you if you're only with me to steal my food. You also can't eat square watermelons."

"Sorry, sorry," you wheeze, massaging the achy spot on your ribs. "Bad joke. I'm with you because I think you're cute – and hot."

He huffs, pulling his arms back and crossing them over his chest. "Uh-huh... You know, I'm not sure I'm in the mood anymore."

"What?" Your eyes widen. "Wait, Megumi, baby, I really am sorry! How do you take your apologies? Poached, fried, sunny-side-up?"

He gives you an unimpressed look, jade-green eyes boring into you. A brush of your hand over his shorts tells you he's not not into it, but you doubt your jokes are helping. You've got to get back onto his good side.

"I'll eat you out," you murmur, mustering up all the sincerity you can in your expression. "Wouldn't you like that? You'd shut me up, wrap your pretty legs 'round my head. Win-win, huh?"

He considers your proposition, pressing his knuckles to his mouth. You shift and inch your face closer to his pelvis, playing with the elastic band of his shorts. You cup his thighs, one in each palm, and Megumi ruffles his dark hair with a sigh and slumps back into the sheets.

"Yeah, fine. Whatever. Lube's in the drawer." He jerks his chin in its direction.

"Fuck yes," you breathe, scrambling over and digging around for it. The drawer also contains a notebook, an old high-school pencil case, and a worn copy of Tolkien's The Two Towers. Two highlighters and a pencil rattle around freely, and you don't doubt that he's done some light annotation work within the book's margins.

"This is another reason I love you," you say, pulling out the nondescript white tube. "Great taste in literature."

"Classic for a reason," he mutters, accepting your kiss. He tugs you back in for a deeper one, warm lips moulding so perfectly with yours. He hums softly and lifts his hips to help you shimmy off his shorts and underwear. His pretty pink cock twitches under your heavy gaze.

He rolls his hips against your thigh impatiently. "Well?" he prompts, lifting a brow. "Apologise away."

"Right, right." You uncap the tube and slather your fingers in a generous amount, pressing the tip of your middle finger against his taut hole. "I'll be gentle."

"I know."

You ease each knuckle into him, slow and steady. He clenches at the cold feeling. He's tight with just one finger, and you're honestly still surprised he manages to fit you at all.

"I have to prep you so much. Like a virgin," you mumble, breathy and awed. He clicks his tongue, his voice steady even as his hole flutters around your finger.

"Shut up, you're so embarrassing." He scowls. "Not my fault you're huge."

"Eh..." You shrug, working him open gently. "Am I big or are you small? Seriously. Puberty did nothing for you."

"I'm taller than Yuji. That's all I care about."

You chuckle, caressing his thigh. His hole, wet with lube, sucks you in eagerly. You chance a second finger, and his back arches as he grips the sheets, a staccato sound between a gasp and a groan escaping his throat.

"Tall and pretty," you hum, fucking your fingers into him. You scissor them when you sink in to the knuckle, brushing his prostate, and his cock twitches where it lays on his stomach. "Like a model."

"Ah, good. I'm your trophy boyfriend." His breath hitches as your fingers glide against that spot inside him. "Fuck. Less talking, more doing, babe. Want your mouth on me."

"Yes, dear," you reply teasingly, sinking out of his vision. Your hot breath fans his cock and his eyes flutter shut as your soft lips close around his tip, lapping at it gently. You hold it up with the vee of your fingers, your warm palm splayed across his stomach to keep him down. Your other hand works him open, slick sounds echoing off the walls of his room.

He's not generally a loud lover, which is a right shame because his moans are addictive. You just have to work hard for them. He exhales sharply, fingers digging into your scalp, as you take him in your mouth down to the base with ease. His thighs tense and he tosses his calves over the breadth of your shoulders, digging his heels into your bare back. You radiate warmth like a damn heater, and the room's already beginning to feel stuffy – or maybe that's just him.

You hum quietly around his cock, making his back arch with the vibrations. You press on his prostate at the same time and the pleasure bites its way right through him, sharp and sweet. He curses under his breath, tugging his shirt up around his chest to give you better access. You thank him by kissing his tip, flicking your tongue against the wet slit, and engulf him to the root.

He moans your name, reflexively tugging you further into him. "Shit��! Fuck, goddamn—"

You pop off for a breather, smirking as he instinctively pushes your face towards his cock. "Got any more swear words for me, baby?"

"Yeah, here's one. Fuck you."

"Eh." You waver a hand. "Technically, you already said that."

"Suck my dick."

"Good job! That's a new one," you hum, and oblige with a grin. You use the distraction to slip a third finger into Megumi and his back arches, hole clamping down around you. He struggles to relax – you can only fit them in to the second knuckle – and you pop off to coo softly, reaching for the lube and applying more. He squelches when you push them in and you press gentle circles into his hip, watching your fingers sink into him carefully.

"You're doin' great, Megumi," you murmur, and his heart skips a beat. "Sorry, I need to reposition. You – are coming with me."

He gasps when you tug him down his mattress by his ankle, closer to where you kneel at the foot of his bed. You part his thighs again and return your fingers to his hole, pumping them slowly. You blow cool air against his tight pink rim and he hisses softly, a complaint already rolling around in his mouth.

The words promptly die in his throat when you give his hole an experimental lick.

"Oh, fuck," he nearly whimpers, eyes screwed shut as you dip your tongue into his ass. His hand twists in the baby hairs at the nape of your neck and his hips jerk into your mouth.

You curl your fingers, pressing harshly on that sensitive bundle of nerves, and he jolts with a harsh gasp. You lave at his tightening pink hole and he digs his heels into your back as you flick your tongue against him, matching the pace of your fingers.

You're still gentle – just unrelenting. The slick sounds of your fingers filling his hole are filthy, and excess lube smears against his ass with a lewd shine. You bury your face in his ass and your other hand holds his leaking cock out of the way, flattening it against his stomach, and he can't help the jolt of pleasure that runs through him at the sight.

It's like his cock isn't even there anymore. You're so concentrated on eating him out that this little part of him has gone forgotten – not like it really matters, though, because holy shit, your mouth is incredible, quick and dextrous. You barely have to breathe. Guess all that talking really does help with other things.

He murmurs something, fisting the sheets until his knuckles go white. You can't hear him over the obscene sounds his slick asshole is making when you push your fingers into him.

"What was that, baby?"

He grunts softly as you jab his prostate. He shudders. His breaths are quick and shaky, his hands constantly switching from gripping the sheets to your head. He peels his eyes open, resolutely staring at his ceiling and not at you.

"I'm close," he whispers, body jerking as you shift the arm pinning his hips down. Your nails scrape over the underside of his cock. "Oh, shit, shit, shit – your tongue—"

He can almost feel you smirk as you double your efforts, fingers digging into his stomach to keep him from bucking up into you. Your fingers twist and curl, opening his tight ass up so nicely, and your tongue traces his twitching hole, lapping up his flavoured lube.

Then you slip your long tongue in with your fingers.

Megumi seizes, thighs clamping around your head, and you groan in pleasure as you feel him jolt and tremble under you, his cock spurting across your hand. Hot streaks of thick come spatter his stomach and it flexes as he gasps and pants, rocking your face into him and pulling on your hair so hard it almost hurts. You tug on his cock absently, smearing your palm with his release.

When he returns to his senses, he lets you go, legs falling limp like jelly to the bed. He shudders and shivers, gulping down breaths as his lashes flutter. His hair is extra messy, jutting out in every direction across the sheets.

You coo his name, eyes clouded with lust as you grin lazily between his legs. You rest your head on his inner thigh and he twitches, sensitive. With his eyes on you, you bring your come-sticky fingers to your mouth and wrap your lips around them, sucking them clean. A pearly droplet rolls down the side of your palm and you twist your wrist to lick it up, long scarlet tongue running from wrist to pinky. He shudders out a wanton sigh.

Despite the sight making his cock twitch with interest, his brow furrows. He needs to regain a sliver of dignity. "You're – You're such a pervert..."

"Says the one who loves getting his ass ate," you tease, running your tongue over your palm. Your other hand has disappeared out of sight, and he assumes being trapped in your jeans isn't fun. "You came because of it. You're such a nerd."

His frown deepens. "I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not."

You roll your eyes and grin, rising to your feet and shuffling onto his bed. You tug insistently on his shirt and he allows you to slip it off. "Agree to disagree?"

"I don't like agreeing with you about most things, generally."

"My god, you're such a bitch," you murmur, chuckling. You grab his thighs, pressing them together, and toss them over your shoulder, slotting yourself flush against his ass. He gasps, face pink. "Fine, back to basics. Are we dating?"

"Y-Yes." His palm is pressed against the thigh of your jeans for his own comfort, unused to being manhandled in such an open position.

"Do you think you can come again?"

"Yes."

"Want it hard?"

"Yes."

"See? Not so hard to agree with me."

"None of that is agreeing," he says in disbelief. "Those are yes-no questions. How did you even graduate from high school? Hey—!"

You shove your cock between his thighs, the hot tip gliding against his balls and settling against his base. You have both of his legs in one arm and you kiss his milky calf teasingly as you lean forward, gently fucking your cock into the space between his thighs. He's slim enough that a good portion of your dick peeks out from the top of his thighs, rubbing against his tight balls.

"D-Don't you dare come from this," he huffs, staring down at your thick cockhead as it pushes past his creamy thighs and slicks up the inner sides with pre. "I didn't tell you to come over just to have you bust like this. I want it inside."

"So demanding," you say impishly, rutting into him. "But alright. I like to spoil my princess."

He hums, ignoring the way his thighs twitch each time you rub up against them. He's still a little shaky from his high. "Good."

You lean down, making his breath hitch as you test his flexibility, and kiss his neck. You tug a pillow down for him. "Love you."

"I know, you big sap," he says, but there's less bite in it than usual. The corner of his mouth even curves up.

He sinks into the pillow below his head as you thrust into his thighs, eyes fluttering shut with a soft, preparing sigh. Your precome makes the glide smooth, and you press his pale thighs together. You pull away and tilt the head of your cock further down, pressing it to his tight hole. Gently, you push in.

Megumi's expression tightens and his body rolls and flexes, fingers twisting in the pillow. You soothe him with sweet words, and he nods in agreement, relaxing as best he can.

"Good, Megumi," you murmur, watching as he relaxes enough to fit a couple more inches. He flinches when your hot touch traces his cock. "Doing so well, baby. Just like that."

He lets out a shaky noise, nodding. He makes an aborted motion to brush his chest and you take note, reaching up with your spare hand to circle his nipple. He arches into your touch, his slick gummy insides rippling against your cock. You groan softly as he blushes dark, the sensitivities of his own body betraying him.

"S-Sorry," he whispers, his tight walls massaging your cock as you rock shallowly back and forth. "You're – big. Ah, hnn..."

"Nothing to forgive, baby. Tell me to pull out and I will, yeah?" You laugh softly despite yourself, squeezing the side of his thigh. "Stretching my little boyfriend... Kinda an ego boost. Nobody else can make you feel like this, right?"

"I've – hah – never had anybody else, you ass," he breathes, and you know he intends it to sound a little mean, a little disparaging, but he's so flushed and his voice trembles in the middle, and it's just cute. His fingers twitch before curling into balls, tugging at the pillow corners.

Your cock sinks in a little deeper. "Mmhm – my pretty little virgin. Takes cock like a champ, though, doesn't he? Such a good boy for me," you purr, distracting him with your words while you coat your cock in an extra smear of lube. You push back in and he lets out a sound startlingly close to a mewl, eyes rolling back briefly as your hips meet his ass.

"F-Fuck," he pants, open-mouthed. He looks and sounds absolutely wrecked, his hole scraping your shaft with each thrust. "So deep – ohh, fuck me, fuck me, c'mon—"

Your jeans zipper presses into his ass as you grind into him. Something about you being half-dressed makes his stomach flutter. Is it because it feels needy, like you couldn't even wait to undress him properly before taking him as yours? He gnaws on the inside of his cheek to keep back the dangerous noise that threatens to bubble out of him.

"You're so pretty when you're being fucked open," you chuckle, making him gasp. "Got a face like a model, body like a porn star... This tight little hole takes me so well, doesn't it? Stretches you nice and full. Drives me crazy, watching all this dick vanish inside you like that," you hum, huffing a laugh. "Like, where does it all go? Not all in my sweet little boyfriend, surely."

"I-Idiot," he gasps, covering his mouth to muffle his moan. "You're being so – so dramatic."

Humming thoughtfully, you lean forward, pushing his slim legs higher. His wet warmth hugs your cock tight, a slick little sleeve for you to enjoy. "Am I?"

You draw your hips back until only the tip rests inside him, then snap your hips forward and sink your entire length into him. He gawps, a few little gemstone tears glittering at the corners of his dark green eyes, and he scrabbles at your hips, fingernails catching in your belt loops and pockets but never really sticking. He lets out his first real moan of the night, sharp and breathy.

"Hnnnh..." He whimpers, eyes dazed as he gazes up at you. His throat bobs and his hair bounces as you fuck him with quick, deep strokes, dragging past his hot, swollen prostate with each thrust.

In a fit of desperation, he pulls at his own asscheeks, spreading himself open and begging wordlessly for more. It's hard to keep himself open with the lube making everything slick and warm, and he ends up clawing at himself as he pants, mewling softly as you tug his body down into yours and fuck him harder. Your skin slaps wetly, loud and lewd.

His cock throbs, twitching where it leaks a pool of pre onto his belly. "C-Close, 'm close," he keens, unable to bring himself to care about the degenerate way he's acting. Your cock knocks the breath out of his lungs, and he loves the way the rough denim of your jeans rubs his ass raw with every rolling grind. His fingers dig into the meat of his ass. "I – ah, hah – close – babe—"

"Yeah, me too," you huff, embarrassingly into the sight and sound of him falling apart. His asshole squelches as you fuck into him harder, rocking the mattress dangerously, and you brace against the bed, pinning his legs to your shoulder when they start to jolt and kick. His feet bob in the air and he greedily drinks in the way sweat shines on your skin and gathers in the dips of your muscles.

You're just so big. You're the close-up brawler to Megumi's ranged attacks, and you've been fighting side-by-side for so long that Megumi's rustier than he should be when it comes to serious threats shoving themselves in his face. It's so much easier to let you at 'em – and a lot more fun to watch you come trotting back to him to have the blood wiped off for you.

He feels so fucking tiny under you like this, gone dumb on your thick cock pounding him into the mattress. He can't get enough.

He comes first, barely about to stutter out your name before his orgasm slams into him, knocking the thoughts out of his head as he feels a sudden warmth flood his guts. His silky, gummy insides ripple and tighten, milking your cock with every aching hot throb, and you groan lowly, fucking him slow and deep through the sea of pleasure.

When you pull out, his hole clenches – and doesn't close. Thick white come dribbles down his ass, pooling around his twitching hips. The sight's enough to reignite the flame in your lower stomach.

You set Megumi's legs down as quickly and gently as you can, before rolling him over onto his stomach and tugging his hips up towards you. He gasps, barely about to get out a questioning huff before you're slamming back into him, fucking the come back into his hole.

He cries out – and immediately slaps a hand over his mouth. His dark hair bounces as he jolts back and forth on your cock, his ass slapping against your hips.

How are you already hard? Sorcerer things, he supposes faintly, because his own cock is filling again. His sticky insides feel so good and sore, perfectly shaped to take your dick, and he clamps both hands over his mouth, falling forward onto the bed. The angle slants his hips up and you crush his prostate on the first thrust, making his toes curl and an embarrassing high-pitched noise to slip out between his fingers.

"Fuck, baby," you whisper, grabbing his wrists and pulling them away. You shift your grip to his upper arms and fold them back, using them as leverage to fuck into Megumi's quivering, dripping hole. "Wanna hear you. There we go. Be nice and loud f'me."

He shakes his head, screwing his eyes shut, as you tug his body backwards onto your lap, letting him feel your hot, pulsing cock resting against his walls. Fuck. The way he's forced to move with you when you do makes him weak in the knees. Good thing you're holding him up.

"Me-gu-mi," you tease, shifting your grasp on his arms. You fuck him lazily, strokes long and slow, and by the way his sigh quivers and his head droops, you know it's not what he wants. "I won't let you come before I hear your lovely voice."

The lean muscles of his shoulders and back flex as he tests the grip you have on him. Broad shoulders, little waist – a proper pretty boy. "H-Hurry up. Gojo might return soon."

"So?"

His head snaps back, a glare harsh on his flushed features. "Don't 'so?' me. Hurry the hell up or you're doing the walk of shame back to yours. Alone."

"You're so mean," you say breathily, grinning. "Love that about you."

He clicks his tongue. His dripping cock is aching to be attended to. "Yeah, well – shit!"

His cry is unobstructed and wonderfully clear. You lean down, taking a peek at his face, and it's almost enough to make you come on the spot. His swollen lips are parted, his blush dark and high on his sharp cheekbones, and his hair sticks to his temples. His eyes flicker towards you, his absurdly long lashes fluttering. His chest heaves.

"Th-That's a dirty trick," he stutters, chancing a glance down. His eyes squeeze shut as his throat bobs harshly.

You tease, "Like magic, huh?" You roll your hips forward in such a way that it has Megumi's chest constricting, as if halfway to tears. A bump protrudes from his flat stomach, a sight made even more obvious when he inhales, his panting breaths shallow but heavy as if he's run a marathon.

You lean back with a chuckle and set a hard, steady pace. Megumi tenses, legs shuffling weakly beneath himself, and can't swallow the embarrassed little sounds that slip out between his clenched teeth. Strings of those noises escape him and his fingers flex, balling into fists. He'll take his dignity to his grave if he must.

Well, that's your purpose, isn't it? To bring him to his little deaths?

"You feel real good like this, baby," you croon, voice low and sweet. He shudders, swallowing roughly, as your cock pistons in and out of his abused hole. Damn it – he can feel the filthy mix of lube and your come dripping down his thigh with each clap of your hips against his ass. "And you're so sensitive, aren't you? My cock hits all the good spots in you, doesn't it, nice 'n' deep... Doesn't it make you wanna let go?"

"I-It's – hah – It's humiliating," he hisses, even though he knows you're right. It's the same story that always goes like this: him refusing, him struggling, him getting devoured by his own lust and submitting like a crashing plane submitting to gravity.

"No, it's cute." You pound into him, merciless and unforgiving as you chase your high.

There's something addicting about being used like this, held in place like he weighs nothing to you. You fuck him like a toy, his come-slick insides gooey and hot, and it can't be his fault when he comes if he can't get away from you, can it? It can't be embarrassing when it's not his fault, and if half the pleasure comes from submitting, then that's not his fault, either.

You're mean. You're making him like this.

A soft, breathy moan escapes into the air.

At the sound of it, your grin takes on a dangerous edge. Megumi's ass is red and tender, the steel rivets of your jeans and the stiff zipper making him twitch and shudder as they scrape against his skin. Your hips quicken, the headboard rocking alarmingly close to the wall, and his mattress creaks as you yank him back to meet you halfway.

His pitiful cock swings between his thighs, dark red and throbbing. It looks painful. You have half a mind to relieve him – but he's so pretty when he comes untouched, and you must have a masochistic streak in you because watching him struggle and come from the smallest bit of friction pleases you like nothing else. His dick pulses with a spurt of clear pre and he inhales with a shaky whine, squeaking quietly and stiffening when you tug his arms further back, making the arch in his spine more pronounced.

His hips jerk. Every time his cock smacks his thigh he moans, warm wet insides rolling as he heaves around you. The bulge in his belly appears and disappears with your thrusts and Megumi's head is foggy. He scrabbles slightly in place, half of him wanting to run away while the other half can't get enough. Unable to choose a side, he can only kneel there, pierced on your cock, and sob out a wet whimper.

The sound is music to your ears. His gasps are whinier, more involved, and you can tell his control is slipping. He no longer gnaws on the inside of his lip to keep himself silent.

Arousal curls hot in your lower stomach. You cock throbs, leaking inside him, and he heaves out a shuddering moan, tilting his head back as his slippery walls squelch around you. His tongue flicks out to wet his lower lip. He aches.

Megumi whimpers and barely has time to open his mouth. "C-Close—"

His expression tightens. His eyes roll back.

He seizes. Pleasure slams into him like a tidal wave. He lets out the sweetest whines as his hips twitch and he thrusts against air, creamy white come splattering his stomach in thick ropes.

His sudden vice-tight heat yanks you over the edge with him, surprising you. You gasp and groan as he keens, stuttering incoherently as his puffy hole milks your cock as if it was made for it. Your fingers tighten around his arms, your cock slamming deep inside him and flooding his stomach, and he has no strength to do anything but quiver and moan, hips still jolting erratically as come dribbles down his shaft and balls.

You tug him into your chest, hooking your chin over his shoulder and grinding into him as he rides out his high. You watch him with soft eyes, panting softly, as his hips slow. Eventually, he slumps against you, chest rising and falling breathlessly. A hand curls around the back of your neck and remains there, warm and shaky.

"Damn," he whispers, finally. Your cock twitches, the aftershocks of your high still buzzing along your nerves, and he lets out a deep exhale as the clarity sets in. "That was..."

"Good?" you offer, one big hand splayed gently across his chest. He nods, closing his eyes, and lets his head fall against your shoulder.

He licks his lips. "Grab me a glass, too, please."

"So presumptuous," you murmur, kissing his neck. You wrap a hand around his thigh, lifting him off your lap. He winces slightly, messy hole clamping around nothing, and sinks forward into his sheets, content and boneless. "Lemme clean you up first, yeah?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, burying his face into his pillows with closed eyes. He runs a hand through his hair and hums sleepily. "Thanks, sweetheart."

The pet name feels soft and warm falling from his lips. You kiss his shoulder again before dragging yourself reluctantly out of bed, and your fingers trail down the length of his arm as you pull away. He shifts his hand to let your touch linger as long as it can.

Clean-up is quiet. He's acquiescent, allowing you to manoeuvre his body how you need to. Sometimes you think he's fallen asleep, but then he'll shift to make it easier for you. Your Megumi was never so selfish as to leave you without some pillow talk.

"You know," you begin, breaking the silence, "I may have gotten too impatient."

"How so?"

"I didn't bring a spare set of clothes, and, well..." You gesture vaguely down at your stained jeans. "Oops, right?"

Megumi stares. He turns away and chuckles, nestling into his pillows. "You can steal some of mine while you wash yours. Whatever fits. You can grab your clothes in the morning."

You press a kiss to the back of his neck, making him laugh softly at the tickling feeling. "Ooh, I love a good sleepover. Thanks so much, Megumi."

He hums in response, and if he peeks while you strip and search his closet for his baggiest casual pieces, no one will ever know.

Later, Megumi watches from his place atop the kitchen counter as you pour two glasses of orange juice. His legs swing lazily off the edge, and he accepts the offered glass when you turn around. He downs half the thing in one go, exhaling afterwards in something like relief. You lift a brow, amusement tugging at your lips.

"What?" he mutters, shoving your shoulder as his cheeks glow pink. "You're tiring."

Your smile grows cocky as you fold your arms over your chest, raising the glass to your lips. "Nothing. I'm just... learning things."

"Oh, fuck off," he scoffs, sipping his glass at a more considered, moderate pace. His gaze follows you as you slip between his thighs, one of your hands resting on his thigh. "You already know what you do to me. You haven't learnt a thing tonight."

"I'm always learning about you," you say with mock seriousness, lifting a finger. The movement bunches up the sleeve of the navy zip-up hoodie around your bicep, straining ever-so-slightly – your voice brings Megumi back to the topic at hand.

"For example," you're saying, "you still have the tickets from our first date, which is downright adorable."

"You don't?"

"Not pinned up like you have do. I don't want them to fade, so they're very carefully tucked into an old notebook – from the same year we got together, of course." You tap your chin. "Doesn't Gojo tease you about it?"

"Given that he's been banned from my bedroom since I was fifteen, no, he doesn't." He presses his thumb and forefinger to his forehead, making a face. He ruffles his hair. "I really need to get on with the whole 'finding my own place' thing. We're just so central with this apartment, and honestly, with the way Gojo reacted when Tsumiki moved out for university, I'm not sure he won't just cry when I leave."

"Aw. You really care for him." You pinch his cheek. He pouts, pushing your hand away.

"Stop it. I want more juice."

He hands you his glass. You roll your eyes fondly, grinning as you reach over and grab the carton. You step closer, hooking your chin over his shoulder, and fill both glasses behind his back. He presses his cheek against your collarbone, one arm draped over your shoulders.

"We could always move in together," you offer. "You did mention it once or twice."

"Hm. I guess so."

"Why do you sound so surprised? You brought it up first."

"I dunno. Guess it feels like a big step. Feels a lot more weighty when it's not just a passing thought."

"We'll think about it some more. Honestly, with how you were acting earlier, I'm shocked that you're still awake," you tease, passing him his juice. "Maybe tomorrow you'll wake up and go, what the shit, that was a terrible post-sex idea, and clutch your head with second-hand embarrassment."

He huffs and levels you with a look. "It can't be that terrible. Rent is expensive. Roommates are always viable. We just have the option of sharing a bed – and that means more fun-money for plants."

Just as you set the carton aside, the front door beeps and clicks open. Megumi freezes and can't get away fast enough.

He locks eyes with that stupid black blindfold.

A wide, smug smile creeps over Satoru's face. He knocks the front door shut with a kick of his heel, and he practically skips out of his shoes.

"Well, well, well! What do we have here?" he drawls, a sizeable white bag hanging from his fingers. In his other hand is a soda drink with a colourful print on the sleeve. He gestures broadly with the cup. "YN! Haven't seen you in years! How've you been, huh? You know, if I didn't know that I was your absolute favourite teacher, it'd feel like you've been avoiding me. All your messages come through Ijichi! You can't spare a few minutes to pop by my office?"

He pouts, waiting expectantly with a hand on his hip. You feel like a deer caught in headlights.

"Uh," you say intelligently. You are suddenly aware that your shorts sit several centimetres too high to be reasonably called 'basketball shorts' any longer.

Megumi clears his throat, moving you aside to hop down from the counter. He stands in front of you, which gives you a few precious seconds to pull the sides of the zip-up hoodie closed over your bare chest.

"You're back early," he says, in lieu of anything else.

"I mean, it is—" he flicks his wrist and glances down "—two in the morning. Speaking of – you boys should be in bed. One of you, at least. I can't control kids who aren't my own!" He laughs to himself.

"Keep calling me a kid and I'll treat you like an old man, gramps," Megumi threatens. "Got the hair and humour for it, too."

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," Satoru replies breezily, tugging off his blindfold and wrapping it around his wrist the same way a girl would with hair ties. He steps forward, dumping his bag on the end of the counter and taking a loud sip from his drink. "You're just jelly that my hair does what I tell it to. Mm – actually, now that I think about it, I've got something else to say."

He takes three long strides forward and pushes Megumi aside to stare you down. You start, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Gojo," Megumi hisses, but goes ignored.

"Now, I can excuse bullying Megumi for his stick-in-the-mud personality, but I draw the line very firmly at breaking his heart." He stares up at you with a tilted head, blue eyes half-lidded and leisurely as he flicks his finger against your chest. It's a motion that looks frighteningly familiar, and you almost step back as he moves further into your space. His Infinity presses lightly against your skin, crackling with power, and you can see the slight shimmer of it pulsing from him. Despite the ease he uses it with, it feels as heavy as lead.

"Gojo, stop – I'm not a child."

"While I do feel a teeny bit insulted that Megumi would hide this," he gestures between the two of you, "from me, I get it. I mean, who's good enough for my itty bitty Megumi? Not a lot of people, I assure you. Most people are dicks. And when I kill things for a living, I could see how that'd make a kid nervous. Need I remind you of how good I am at my job?"

"No, sir," you squeak.

"Great. And, being that you were one of my students, I shouldn't have to mention just how much pain I can dish out."

"That's right, sir."

"Nor will I have to remind you of what happens when I do a little..." He flutters his fingers, mimicking a magician's flourish, and forms a tiny ball of Purple at the tips of his fingers. The pale glow illuminates his face from below.

His eyes bore into your skull. The air is sucked out of your lungs.

"Gojo!" Megumi yanks Satoru's arm down, dispersing his technique, and shoves himself between your bodies. He glares at him. "What is wrong with you? I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm far too old for you to be playing 'protective dad' over. Legally, I could volunteer for the military, kill a man, and drink myself to death tomorrow if I so wanted. I should be allowed to choose my own partners."

Satoru eyes you for a moment longer, then glances down at Megumi and his whole look changes. He deactivates his Infinity, the air around you becoming ten times lighter, and pouts, ruffling Megumi's hair – Megumi grimaces.

"You are! I'm just exercising my right to do some light boyfriend-threatening," he whines. "I've always wanted to do that! And you know I wouldn't actually atomise you, don't you, YN? You're my favourite ex-student!"

"R-Right, sir..."

"I mean, I would still hunt you down like a dog if you ever hurt Megumi, but I'd make it quick!"

"Gojo," Megumi groans. "Please leave us alone."

Playfully, Satoru salutes, winking knowingly at Megumi. "Gotcha. Boyfriend stuff, right? I'll leave you two lovebirds alone, now." He skips away, waving a hand over his shoulder at the bag of snacks on the counter. "Have a peek, take what you want! Mostly, I went out for a walk. I just liked the colours of the packaging. Cheerio, kids!"

As he vanishes into his room and closes the door, Megumi sighs, letting his head fall into his hands. He turns to you, grabbing your hand. "Sorry... Maybe we should've just stayed in my room. Are you alright?"

"I'm, uh, not gonna lie," you chuckle nervously. "I wasn't expecting..." You flick your fingers.

He purses his lips, squeezing your hand. "Neither was I. He got serious with this, of all things? Ridiculous."

You wrap your arms around him – because having a black hole pressed against your throat was terrifying – and he rests his arms over your shoulders comfortably. You bury your nose in his hair and mumble, "You're the one running over to my place next time."

He nods against your shoulder. "Happily."

[dollniu]

guilty pleasure.. — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS — things that secretly turn jjk men on!

CHARACTERS — sukuna, gojo, ino, hakari, higuruma, choso, toji

CONTENT — skirts, stockings, whispering, ear-biting, scent, neck kisses, lingerie, nipple play, praise kink, licking, choking, biting, bondage

A/N — MDNI 🔞, if you have any suggestions for posts reblog or comment 💋

RYOMEN SUKUNA

- neck. he lovesss neck kisses, especially while you’re riding him

- lips. anything to do with his mouth on you, biting, licking, sucking, eating you out, all of it

- clothing swap. he gets off seeing you in his robe, he hates how hard he gets from seeing you 🤭

- vocal. loves it when you scream his name, makes him go even harder 😋

- degradation. he’s less than nice in bed and will make you feel like a pathetic little sex toy to him, calling you cruel names just for his own pleasure 🤭

- sadism. the sound of him spanking your ass, the yelp of pleasure you make when ever he slaps you, pushing your head into the pillow whenever he fucks you from the back.. he can’t get enough.

SATORU GOJO

- scent. he loves ur scent, the perfume/cologne you wear makes him weak to his knees.

- accidental touch. he loves it when you touch his lower back, he always gets embarrassed when he arches his back and lets out a little gasp of desperation 🤭

- angry sex. he finds it hot when you’re mad at him, like he could fuck the anger out of you and have you going from angry to begging

- teasing. seeing you squirm whenever he gets so close to you, touching you in places where he definitely shouldn’t be, dirty talking, he loves seeing the flush in your face!

- clothed sex. loves it when you grab his dick through his pants 😋

- breast play. this man LOVES TITS, he will plunge his face into his tit and swallow them while playing with your nips and still get hard.

KINJI HAKARI

- cat ears. secretly loves cat ears and will def fuck the shit out of you while you wear them

- shorts/skirts. he’s an ass kinda guy so seeing your ass poke out through tight short shorts or mini skirts sends him into a frenzy

- choking. while he’s fucking you from the front with his hand wrapped around your neck 😫

- lingerie. spoils you in expensive victoria secret lingerie that he picks out just for you, he loves seeing you slowly take it off in front of him

- pinning. pinning you against the wall is probably his favorite thing to do, seeing you struggle to move against his grasp gives him a hard on immediately

TAKUMA INO

- cockwarming. this man can’t get enough of how good you feel when you’re wrapped around his dick, your pussy swallowing his length like a good girl 🤭

- begging. this man will BEG for you to let him cum and he loves it, it goes both ways as well. he loves seeing you under him, a complete mess, fucking you while you’re begging for him.

- blindfolds. silk ribbons wrapped around your eyes leaves you on edge, wishing you knew where he’d touch you next, where he’d lick you, how he’d fuck you, just what he’ll do to you.

- dry humping. the intimacy of it all feels so filthy, but ino absolutely loves it. the friction of the cloth between you too is so hot for ino and he will do it whenever y’all are lying in bed together!

TOJI FUSHIGORO

- raw. this man will fuck you raw and never uses a condom (no lube no protection!) the feeling of him pounding you and feeling your slippery walls wrap around his dick is an immediate orgasm for him

- daddy kink. we’ve all called toji daddy at least once and it’s all he needs to be fucking you all night long.

- face fucking. there’s nothing toji loves more than slamming your face down his huge dick! and he always cums and makes sure you swallow all of it. 😋

- size difference. we all collectively know that toji has a big ass dick, plus he’s just huge in general! he’s the type of guy to get off just looking down at you as you look up at him with fuck me eyes.

CHOSO KAMO

- overstimulation. our sensitive man choso LOVES being overstimulated. he will go round after round even after cumming 10 times consecutively.

- praise. he loves holding up your face when he’s fucking you and staring into your eyes, telling you how good you’re taking him. “such a good girl”

- edging. it goes both ways. leaving you on the brink of cumming only for him to stop just before you’re about to release just to see you begging on your knees. but when he’s getting the most toe-curling blow job or handy? edging him is the most pleasurable yet hated thing to do to this man and he will be left a whimpering MESS.

- hair pulling. when he’s eating you out, he loves it when you grip at his scalp and push him further into your cunt!

HIROMI HIGURUMA

- 69. we all saw this coming, our big nosed king loves pleasuring you while eating you out. sitting on his face while he can barely breathe can make him cum just thinking about it. but while he’s getting a blow job too? orgasm after orgasm.

- maid dresses. it was a secret he kept to himself until he saw you all prettied up in a maid dress where he lost all self-respect and fucked the shit out of you

- glasses. he loves seeing the way your glasses fall down your face while he’s fucking you against the wall. plus it’s just a preference

- thigh riding. he loves the sounds you make whenever you’re riding his thigh, desperate to cum and pussy practically drooling all over his thigh? his absolute favorite.

- face sitting. like i said before, this man loves oral sex. like he WILL keep eating you out even when you’ve already came, that’s how much he loves your taste ♥️

[snail-day]

Rahhh I feel like a broken record saying this, but I just, ugh. Satoru is just such a yearner. Masks himself with smiles, pretending there’s nothing behind those pretty eyes. But really, he craves love. Craves it so deeply that the very act of being loved repulses him. It’s too much. He simply doesn't know what to do with it.

I just think Satoru in love is a mess, not in the way people expect. He’s not stammering over his words, not showing up at your door with hundreds of roses. He doesn’t have time for grand gestures like that.

He’s the type to stare at his phone longer than he should, the screen time stacking up in seconds. Just scrolling through your Instagram, pausing on that photo you always say you’re going to delete. He really wishes you wouldn’t because while you see imperfection, he sees someone who might as well have hung up the stars.

He’s the type to hover over his keyboard, those slender fingers typing and deleting the same message five times, wondering what would be too much. Would a heart emoji scare you off? Do you actually care about what he ate today?

Kicking his feet under the blankets, a few roll-arounds, when you text him “Goodnight” or “Good morning.” He bites down on a smile when you call first, just to tell him about a report or how your students are doing.

The Satoru with a crush: waking up earlier than necessary, neglecting the sleep his body begs for just to see if you’re online. If that typing bubble will pop up. If maybe - just maybe - you’re retyping too. If you crave him, even a fraction of the way he yearns for you.

He’s brushing his teeth at 7 a.m., frustrated, because you still haven’t texted. It’s only been two hours but it feels like forever. A foamy grin takes over his face when he sees the typing bubble. He checks, read receipts off. Just in case. He can't be caught looking desperate. Can't break down that wall just yet. Using his ego as a barrier to the real him.

Then the chime. Your message. Choking on toothpaste. Satoru has to pace his apartment like an idiot to calm down. A little circle around the coffee table, just to burn off the nerves. The soft patter of his giddy footsteps. Then he finally types back, “Good morning :)", though what he wants to say is “Did you sleep well?” or “Did you dream of me?”

And then, his smile falters. Do you think of him as Satoru, or as Gojo Satoru? Because there’s a difference. To mask the loneliness, swallowing the negative thoughts, he imagines you still curled up in bed, cheek smooshed into your pillow. Wonders how warm you’d be. If he were there, would you two stay wrapped up for an extra hour? Would you press a sleepy kiss to his cheek? Would you peck his face as many times as he would to yours?

When the silly little crush turns into something more - when it becomes a relationship.

Your mug sits next to his in the cabinet now. You brush your teeth together in the mornings. A playful nudge here and there. Giggling when he tries (and fails) to perfect an omelet. He makes character bentos for you on his day off, baby-blues crinkling with every smile.

And still - Satoru tries to play it cool. He wants to love you like a dog loves its favorite person, unconditionally, shamelessly, wholly. He wants to claim you as his and forget the rest of the world.

But he’s scared.

Scared that if he reaches too far, you won’t be there in the morning. That he’ll lose the luxury of placing his toothbrush next to yours. That there won’t be any more grocery trips where you both pause in the sweets aisle for far too long.

Scared you’ll pull away the second he starts reaching for miles instead of inches.

So he smiles. He jokes. Keeps the Gojo Satoru mask on. Because love is terrifying. It’s carving out your heart and handing it to someone, hoping they don’t drop it.

The first argument starts over something stupid. Most do. But it spirals. You don’t understand why he’s distant. Why he won’t let you all the way in. And he doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s terrified.

Because loving you means showing you the sharpest parts of himself. The ones buried behind smug grins and careless jokes. And he’s not sure you’ll still love him once you see them.

So he says something awful.

“Let’s break up.”

The words leave him in shards, clawing their way out of his throat. Words he doesn’t mean. A defense mechanism that works too well.

You freeze. He sees it in your eyes, shock, then hurt, then that dreadful look like you’re already pulling away.

And maybe… maybe that’s what he wants.

Because if he ends it now, if he’s the one who walks away, then he doesn’t have to know what it feels like to lose you for real. Doesn’t have to picture your body in a morgue because he couldn’t save you. Doesn’t have to imagine the world moving on without you in it.

It’s easier this way. That’s what he keeps telling himself.

Even as he stares at that imperfect photo of you still sitting on your Instagram while all the imperfect ones of you together are long gone. Scrubbed clean, no more cheeky smiles. No more subtle photos of you both on dates. As if pretending you never happened will make it hurt less. But it doesn’t. He’s left behind with nothing but the silence. And the tears that fall quietly onto the screen, threatening to like that photo from ages ago.

You forgot your toothbrush. But you left your house key.

His bed is still cold.

And god, he wishes you’d just send one more text.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

How do you think Nanami would announce your pregnancy to Gojo and the jujutsu high cast…. Possible fic idea?

Rainbow Baby

Tags: Nanami x fem!Reader, ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, TW- mentions of a previous miscarriage, (is not described, but it’s heavily referenced), grief, tooth-rotting fluff at the end, happy ending that you and nanami deserve.

An: This is def not the fic that I accidentally wrote about the wrong character for. I definitely did not write this entire fic about Satoru before rereading your request and seeing that you clearly wrote for Nanami.

Nanami is a private man — not secretive, just private. While he loves when you visit school to see him because your presence eases his weary mind, he doesn’t flaunt you around to his coworkers. It’s honestly just a known thing around the school that Kento has a very pretty wife who he doesn’t introduce to anyone.

There is only one exception to the rule: the man who isn’t afraid of anything and has no concept of social boundaries, Satoru Gojo.

Nanami watched in utter disdain as Satoru always found a way to inset himself into yours and Nanami’s conversations. He never bothered to hide how much Gojo gets on his nerves.

However, Satoru gets a pass. Nanami may shoot him death glares and give him short, irritated responses, but Nanami will never shoo him away.

Satoru gets a pass because he was the one who made sure you and Nanami didn’t drown in grief when you two lost your first little one.

Nanami hadn’t even told anyone that you were pregnant yet — it was so early on. You two were still enjoying keeping it a small secret between you two. However, Gojo picked up on it immediately after seeing you. You weren’t showing, but he could see the small bundle of yellow and orange energy radiating from your tummy with his six eyes.

To Nanami’s surprise, Satoru didn’t make a huge deal out of it. He shook Nanami’s hand while whispering a quiet congratulations into his ear. Nanami laughed as he realized that Satoru knew, and he pulled the white haired male into a hug.

Satoru immediately knew something was wrong when Nanami didn’t show up for work the next week. Deciding to check up on his friend, he stopped by yours and Nanami’s house.

Nanami looked like a wreck compared to his normally put together self when he answered the door. His skin was pale, dark bags under his puffy red eyes from crying. He was wearing a shirt and grey sweatpants. You looked even worse…

Satoru didn’t need an explanation whenever the small bundle of energy was no longer present in your tummy.

If it wasn’t for Satoru, Nanami was sure that the grief was going to consume both of you. You were… you were understandably a wreck, and Nanami was so heartbroken himself that he struggled to hold you together. He was the man of the relationship, but he lost a child too. He had to witness his wife go through the worst pain imaginable, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Satoru checked up on you two often. He never mentioned what he knew, which was comforting. He was just always there with a kind smile and food plus desserts. Even though you and Nanami barely would eat anything, Satoru would come over anyways.

He was the only thing constant and stable in yours and Nanami’s lives. He was the only one who knew, and he helped you two out with a level of empathy and care that Nanami didn’t know he was capable of. The house would get cleaned. Food would be served. Different bills and other miscellaneous items ended up being paid.

Soon, the grief became easier to deal with. You and Nanami learned how to cope with the loss and start living again. The grief books lie by the way. You never truly get over the loss of a baby. You just learn how to live with the subtle ache in your heart.

It sneaks up on you sometimes. You see a small baby on tv, and you’re in shambles. Nanami watches Kusakabe announce his wife’s pregnancy, and he has to excuse himself to the restroom for a breather.

Satoru spent father’s and mother’s day with you and Nanami. It’s not like he had any family to celebrate with anyways. He brought you two gifts - making sure to remind you two that you are still parents. Your little one just isn’t on this earth.

So when you see those two pink lines on a test a year later, you feel your heart stop. You can’t take another heartbreak. You’re so scared; you don’t even want to tell Nanami. You two weren’t exactly trying for another baby, but you weren’t preventing one either.

You and Nanami celebrated, cried, laughed, rejoiced, mourned, grieved, every emotion hit you two like a truck when you revealed your pregnancy to him.

You don’t stop by the school for a little while. You and Nanami are both not ready for Satoru to find out… especially not during the first trimester when it’s possible that miscarriage can happen again…

Once you hit 20 weeks and know the baby’s gender, you finally think it’s time to let Satoru know. Nanami reluctantly agrees — also because Satoru has been hounding Nanami for weeks about where you’ve been. Satoru misses the cookies you’d always bake for him.

“Do you have plans for dinner tonight?” Nanami asks the white haired male at work that evening. Satoru immediately perks up, knowing this is basically an invitation to come over.

“Nah, I was thinking about getting hot pot. Why?” Satoru asks, trying not to sound overly excited, but it’s a rarity when Nanami formally invites him over. He also hasn’t seen you in so long. He wants to spill all the new tea to you since you like that sort of thing, unlike Nanami.

“My wife baked those cookies you love so much. You should stop by tonight.” Oh, and Satoru was getting sweets? Hell yeah.

Though, the cookies wasn’t the biggest treat of the night. When Satoru enters your home behind Nanami, he walks to the kitchen where you’re standing over freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Your tummy is rounded, and there’s a strong accumulation of golden energy residing in you.

“You’re-!?” Satoru’s eyes widen and he flicks his head quickly between you and Nanami. Your husband playfully rolls his eyes, but his smile tells you everything you need to know. He’s proud to be announcing your pregnancy.

“Yes, she’s pregnant.” He answers with a laugh, and Gojo pulls him in for a tight hug. Even if Satoru lacks some social skills, he’s able to read people like a book. He knows that this is all you and Nanami have ever wanted — a little family to call your own.

Now, imagine his big blue eyes welling with tears when he sees the cookies have writing on them.

“Nice to meet you, Uncle Toru!”

Now, imagine how fucking ecstatic Nanami is when he finally gets the privilege to announce your pregnancy to the rest of the school. He’s private with his life, but after everything you two have been through, he happily announces your pregnancy to anyone — everyone.

Oh, and your baby girl, Satori, was born happy and healthy. Besides you and Nanami, Satoru was the first one to meet your sweet baby. Yes, he cried like he was the baby when he found out about her name.

[nana-au]

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘, 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘

Satoru Gojo ♡ short drabble

₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: Your best friend gets jealous when your childhood friend reenters your life

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: not proofread, sensual teasing (no smut yet), jealousy/possessiveness ...if that is something you dislike

₊˚ପ⊹ an: i’m baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. srry this is short, my mental health and work have been kicking my ass </3

MDNI

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Satoru Gojo doesn't know how to admit his feelings to you - or even himself really. He's already weighed out the pros and cons when it comes to confessing to you. He's thought of every scenario possible while he lays awake in his bed at night, the moonlight peaking through his curtains illuminating the smooth skin of his chest as he lays deep in thought.

He was content with keeping his feelings to himself for quite some time. It used to be so easy. All he had to do was look into your soft eyes, listen to your melodious laughter, and smell the sweetness of your shampoo to be certain he didn't want to do anything that might risk him never being able to experience you again. That was until your childhood best friend made a reappearance in your life.

He tried so hard to be cool with him - to be cool with how close the two of you were even after all that time apart. Hanging out with the both of you felt like third wheeling. You two would walk side by side, leaving Gojo to walk on the sidewalk behind you. You both shared inside jokes that Gojo wasn't privy to. He would stuff his hands into his pant's pockets, eyes piercing a hole into the back of your friend's head. He couldn't even offer a smirk when he dragged laugh after laugh from your shaking form. You would look at him questioningly, silently asking if he was alright. If you didn't look so worried, he wouldn't have even bothered to assure you he was fine. But you did look worried for him, and it crushed him. So he would put on a brave face.

Satoru had no choice but to deal with it. You weren't his. You can have friends. It shouldn't matter to him how close you both were. He was okay with the fact he would never be with you in that way, just to make sure he wouldn't risk the possibly of never seeing you again. Keyword: Was.

Your bothersome friend had invited himself to yours and Gojo's plans, again. He didn't even bother hiding his icy glare this time. It was maddening how you let him rest his arm on your shoulder or that you didn't notice him sniffing your hair every time he whispered a joke in your ear. Gojo and you had started a movie marathon when your friend invited himself inside your home. After an entire movie of watching that asshole piss all over you, marking you as his, Gojo decided he could no longer sit idly by.

At the end of the first movie, you took a moment to use the bathroom, and when you sat back down on the couch Gojo didn't waste a second pulling you into his side. His arm wrapped around your back and rested on your thigh, brushing against your bare skin. Your eyes grew wide, looking shocked at Gojo's actions. It wasn't rare for you two to cuddle, but something felt different about this time. His hand squeezed your thigh when he noticed your friend looking at the way he held you. Fortunately for the both of them, you were still unaware as to what was occurring.

Halfway through the second movie you began to realize you had no idea what was even going on in it. You couldn't keep track of the characters - you were utterly confused by the plot. Nothing was making sense. Especially not the way Gojo was toying with your shorts and breathily laughing into your ear at the movie's jokes. You wouldn't have even realized the movie was a comedy if not for the way his breath caused your hair to tickle your neck.

Your friend sat at the other end of the couch, his chin resting on his hand that was propped up by the arm of the couch. He was silently seething, unable to pay attention to the movie, but for a completely different reason from you. Gojo could barely contain his amusement at finally being the one dishing out misery, not the one receiving it.

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your hip, his thumb digging under the waistband of your shorts. Unfortunately for your friend, Gojo was not going to hold back. And unfortunately for you, his touch was driving you crazy. It took almost all of your energy focusing on not rubbing your thighs together, ignoring the heat between your legs begging for some relief. You had spent most of your friendship ignoring your own feelings for Satoru, not believing he could ever share the same feelings that you have for him. (You both are sooo stupid) But the way his long fingers subtly squeezed your bare skin so close to where you have dreamt of him being, you weren't sure how much longer you could keep your desire inside.

Gojo had no intentions of letting you out of his reach for the rest of the day. When you decided to order a pizza, Gojo made sure to note that your friend parked behind the both of you, so he should be the one to go and pick it up. He had to give it to the guy, he was a trooper. He sighed loudly, begrudgingly agreeing and finally leaving the two of you alone.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Smut is to be continued...

pt. 2 out now

[monstas1ut]

Characters when they’re breeding you :)

SASUKE UCHIHA, SATORU GOJO, EREN YEAGER

Contains

__ +18 black coded reader, female reader, Squirting ,creaming, the word slut, impreg, breeding, size diff, teasing, pussy eating, talk of getting reader pregnant, unprotected sex

___brown skin can be dark, light, medium color.. whatever. brown is brown.. and it's gorgeous

a/n

__ I’m so sorry I didn’t post in a year I think lmao. Idk what happened. Forgive me :(

Sasuke Uchiha

It’s not unknown, everyone has heard his preaching about his clan and he wants to restore it. However, most people are more of speaking behind his back. How can he restore a clan when he is the only one left and yet he’s cold, frosted and lonesome? Where is the woman of his dreams? It’s merely the fact of his life, and frankly, even he knew it. Appearing to everyone in Konoha, he’s lonely, an outcast, forlorn.

That truly wasn’t it. The male simply didn’t want to settle for a woman that wasn’t worth his while. This man came from a family filled with talent and ruthless power. Indeed, he could’ve easily rushed into a relationship, however he would like more of a stable relationship. Now, justified, he is fucking a woman that bared no ring on her finger yet, but she was still his.

How could anyone not tell? The second she decided to move into the village, Sasuke found himself staying longer rather than going out on ventures. Everyone figured he’d just gotten tired, and that’s when women of all different shapes and sizes would line up. Unfortunately, they just didn’t understand… They didn’t get it.

“How come you’re so strong, but you can’t give me more..” Those words were like a black feather running down your back. All you could feel were your knees giving out, your body seeping into the bed. But Sasuke wasn’t having that… no.. he needs you to cum again. He needs you at your most neediest, he needs to warp your mind. Maybe it was manipulation, but you enjoyed his dick so much.. how come you weren’t trying to give him a baby already?

Okay.

“Sasukeee, shit~! Stop- gonna make me squirt..” Your words fell on deaf ears. Truly, the Uchiha couldn’t care or give a damn. Besides, you didn't taste bad at all. The male’s tongue was not afraid to slip into regions nobody has ever been before. Your pretty, glistening, brown lips were dripping in juices and saliva. It was a mess, and Sasuke purely enjoyed you in such a state. He’s not known to be with many women but he knew what he was doing. Seeing how you were slipping right through his fingers from pure ecstasy, seeing your pussy gush from just a bit of sucking on that clit… It was easy… But Sasuke would’ve been curse you if you weren’t so damn beautiful.

“There it is.. Don’t make it difficult next time.”

This man couldn’t hide it. He was entranced, he was deeply in love. If you could see him right now, your pussy juices dripping from his face, his right eye was now a deep red that showed the uchiha’s purpose. Red, menacing and ruthless.. while the other stayed that pretty purple. His senses, they were all on you. His eyes half lidded and his lips almost parted from each other as his fair colored cock slipped right back into you. Right after slurping on that pussy like a good smoothie.

It turned your world quick. He slid in like a key, it was perfect. Those veiny hands touched your shoulders, causing you to shiver as he ran down your shimmery brown arms, right to your wrists. Your pretty, fucked out face was pushed firm into the bed as you had no leverage to keep yourself up. Drool seeped out of your mouth onto the sheets as your eyes yelled with hearts.

You loved this man. Should you give him children? No… yes? Your mind was all over the place, but it stayed stuck in the gutter.

Sasuke kept both your wrists, pulling them back as he watched you give in. He could physically see it happen to you. It actually made his eyes widen just a smidge as the blood continued to run to his cock. Fuck. Were you really giving up? He noticed your tone, how your moans were more like chirps, whines. He didn’t stop. His thrusts were rough yet so slow and dangerously addictive. Each thrust gave a flutter to your insides, the ripples of your ass got more intense with each one. Sasuke damn sure didn’t take his eyes off of that, he loved the way that brown mound of an ass slapped against him. It was so far from ugly.

“What are you going to do for me…” His voice was grazing your skin, his breathing only getting louder as he held back each moan… The mattress was poor, all of the convincing, the pleas.. the mattress was just as broken down as you. Your walls were so nicely abused by this man that you had to thank him. You truly did! And as your next orgasm began to fall, you did too.

“Oh-oh-.. fuck! M-Imma’ give you a baby.. my- fuck Sasuke! Imma have your baby-..” it was so hard for you to speak, and yet you spit it out. Oh, you got to hear the pathetic groan of Sasuke.. just continuously diving deep into you as he let go of your wrists unwillingly. It’s like his hands got weak. You noticed this and practically gasped before lifting your upper body and he just knew his time was done.

Sasuke uchiha took pride in himself, but this? You were such a little sex demon.

“Yeah.. imma give you all your fuckin babies.. get me pregnant.” Now sass revealed, and Sasuke was trying to bite back his words and imagination. It was going wild while he noticed you bouncing back on his cock. It was disappearing every second, your pussy just swallowed it up with each bounce. He couldn’t even keep up… no, he kept thinking about that round belly.

His fingers were digging so hard in your hips they may leave marks. That’s how you knew he was so close.. he was right there. It was true, Sasuke’s breathing was getting heavier, quicker.. and his grip on you was tight.. but not as tight as your pussy.

“Too fucking tight.. take it… take it all then.” Although his voice was deep, he couldn’t hide that sharp, whistle of a moan that slipped by when he pushed forward, just balls deep in your brown pretty pussy. You couldn’t breathe, but you felt the warmth and splash of cum in your pussy. It was so much, it happened so quickly..

And all you had to say was that you’d have his babies…?

“All that cum…” You whispered as his head was resting on your upper back. You could feel his breathing all hot on your back as he was actually rubbing his thumbs gently on your hips. He was such a meanie but sometimes he just knew when to be nice. He was going to have to be nicer when you’re plump with his kids…

Satoru Gojo

You merely believe he’s joking. Literally, you didn’t blink an eye. Perhaps that sent a terrible message to the jokester. Fanning your hand at him, watching a shitty little documentary about something boring. The clocks in your head just weren’t turning correctly. But seriously, how could they when this grown man was pouting?

“Y/n… I want a baby. I wanna dress him up in identical clothes.” He said, you remember it clearly when he said this. He was not serious, couldn’t be. That little laugh that came from him, his animated expressions of demonstrating having a child. “Yeah okay Gojo” you spit out, only to turn back to your phone without having another thought about it.

You literally signed your name on the dotted line.

“You promiseeeee?”

“Yeah yeah..”

That’s what you said, and Satoru nodded. Now why did you believe that was the end of it? Probably because your boyfriend is a jokester and he plays too many games. You could tell when he was joking or being serious right? Or maybe you just weren’t looking at him and taking him seriously? It was the latter.

The whole day was filled with normalcy , nothing said of a baby nor a child. It was supposed to be a joke.

“Na ah ah… Keep them just~ like~ this~… Makes ya’ look even prettier this way” The male was piercing you with his words, they dug right in you just like his cock. He was just simply admiring his work, watching you fold your legs in a pretzel by his command. He really took a liking to this position, especially since he could hold onto your ankles.

All you did was shakily breathe out, your eyes filled with gloss and regret. Why didn’t you believe him? Now your pussy was getting all ruined and messy. And he was chuckling about it!

“Atta girl..” he spoke, the steam of his words burning right through you as you squeezed your eyes shut. Embarrassed by your gushy noises coming from your needy cunt, you decided not looking at Satoru would suffice. However, he just wasn’t having that.. first you don’t believe him, now you didn’t want to look at him? You were going to be teased today, you deserved it.

“Look at me, pretty. Watch me put a baby in you, since you thought I was jokin’..” Satoru didn’t miss a beat, his cock going in and out and in and out. You were forced to stare at him now, but you got butterflies looking into his deep, light blue eyes. They glowed with intent on getting you full with babies. But you couldn’t look at his cock going in and out. If you did, you’d see your lower stomach just bulging out ever so slightly. He was so juicy and big. His cock was as pale colored as him, veiny and had an ever so slight curve that would tease at your g-spot. And the tip of it was so pink, just as pink as your insides.

“S-Sat-…”

“That’s not my name.. Say it full out for me” His smirk was laced throughout his words as he watched your eyes roll back. Those pretty russet colored breasts were bouncing so much he could internally laugh at your predicament… Sure, you looked beautiful but sometimes it’s funny when you’re wrong. And you were wrong about it all. “Satoru… Satoru baby..” you choked out, your legs slipping from the pretzel position as you became tired.. but he just gave a little shrug.

It was alright, because he pressed his lanky fingers and his palm against the underside of your thighs and he pushed forward. You were folded up again, yet in an entirely different position as you watched him concentrate. He couldn’t stop, not for a second. Those burly arms of his were flexing as his pretty blue eyes watched your pussy eat his cock up. He was enjoying the show… and he enjoyed it even more when your eyebrows were all furrowed. He only looked up at your face once to experience heaven.

“Satoru-… O-Okay~… J-Just dump a baby in me- fuck.” You finally said it, and you threw your head back as he sped up his thrusts. His white locks of hair looked like the sun up above as he had a daring smirk on his face before he got serious. That pussy was talking to him, and he’d be dumb not to respond.

The bed was making noise with each thrust, and Satoru gripped your thighs tight. He tightened his core and gave it all he had, turns out that was just a bit too much for you because you were already creaming on his pretty dick. It was an artistic expression.. just coating his cock in your cum, it made him chuckle.. a moan following it.

“Messy…” Satoru muttered before the thrusts ceased and he slid out of your pretty little gaping hole before gently slipping two lanky fingers into you. It made you jolt with pleasure and overstimulation. It made you look at him with confusion, but you were too late. His cock slid right back into you, and his fingers slipped into his mouth.. just tasting every bit of your naughty substances.

“Oh my god-..” you moaned loudly, feeling like you were going to cry from the deepest sex you’ve ever experienced. But you weren’t the only one. Tasting your sweet cum while digging in your pussy with his tip was the best feeling ever. And Satoru was not one to keep his moans to himself. He made sure you knew your pussy was the best.

“Gonna have my baby right?”

“Yess-.. all of them…” you cried out, gripping the bedsheets and damn near tearing them.. that’s before you heard the prettiest, deepest moan. His blue eyes were filled with intense energy and warmth, that’s before you were filled with the same things… warmth and his energy.

“Damn right”

Eren Yeager

“You think I’d look cute pregnant or would I look ugly?”

Eren looked at you while you had stuffed clothes under your shirt. You shaped it so it looked like a belly, and to be fair.. you looked cute. Not saying that because you were his girlfriend, but just in general. He kind of rolled his eyes though. “Cute. Why would you look ugly” his tone sounds like he’s uninterested, but his heart thumped in ways he couldn’t explain. He never really thought of you pregnant.. and why the hell not?

“Dunno. I just can’t see it.” You added as you removed the clothes, only adding fire to the already burning house that was laying on the bed as it watched you in the bathroom mirror.

That’s when said house stood up and with a sigh he and his tall form was now behind you. His long, brown hair tickled your head while his hands grazed against your ass before stopping at your hips. He was bare at the top… scars and battles from the war on his chest that showed his strength.. truth be told, it made you wet.

“Can’t see it? Well maybe cuz’ it’s not real. See.. women get a glow from pregnancy.. not sayin you ain’t already got that.. but it’s a different glow.” Eren explained gently as you felt the cold touch of his chain behind you.. just whispering against the back of your neck. You stared at him in the mirror as he smirked with those pretty white teeth. “And how do you know all that..” you purred, almost teasing him.

“It’s a real thing.. some women get it. But you’re so gorgeous, I just know you’d turn even more heads than you do already, baby” He stopped to look at you, but not in the mirror.. from the side of your face before he kissed your jawline. “Eren… you don’t know that though-..” “wanna bet?”

The little sex fairy put an arrow right through the both of you. Had you not looked at him in a sultry manner, Eren would’ve probably let it go. He hasn’t thought about babies.. but the second you say something about pregnancy and he’s all over it like white on rice. To be fair, it was quite pathetic in a way, and he’ll admit it.. but he got weak thinking about you just all chunky with his kid.

Eren’s imagination was bright and sunny, and his determination was just that much bigger.

“R-Right there….” You sharply breathed in as you watched the man in the mirror. His veiny, scruff hand around your throat with ease. He was treating you like a puppet, making sure you stayed in the same position, and moved to his heart's content. “I know baby.. I know..” he practically cooed, his other hand caressing your thigh that was up on the sink counter. It was jiggling just as much as your ass was as he gave slow and soft strokes inside of you. This was one of Eren’s soft days.. Free from anger, free from frustration.. he has been like this for awhile now.. maybe after being discharged he’s calmed down.

Sex with him now is like a sweet sensual melody… and as of right now, he needed it to be.

“What am I doin right now, baby..”

“Y-You m-makin love to me..” you slurred out, eyes slowly rolling to the back of your head as you choked back a moan.

“Thats right… and why am I going so deep..”

“So I can give y-fuck… so I can give you a baby..” you moaned out sharply as the once cold, marble counter was now filled with the warmth of your body heat and the warm sex you two were taking part in.. The floor beneath you both was a bit wet, Eren didn’t care… He never did care for mess. Especially now.

“Thats right… Give me that reward for beating this pussy so good.” The words Eren spoke were like vibrations to your clit. It shook you to your core, like it was on the highest setting. He knew what to say and what buttons to press in your mind. Not only that, but he knew this position was so deep. You were opened up like a slut, and the way your pussy was gurgling on his cock was just embarrassing.. but that showed just how open it was.. how stretched it was for him and him only.

Eren loved it, let alone your tears falling down your face. It made him speed up. The small little decor on the sink’s counter was pushed off by accident, and your body was now being lifted from the floor a bit as his thrusts were now close together. You couldn’t feel the floor with your foot.. and the other was perched on the counter still.

“Eren!.. oh- fuck me..” your mind was spinning. It’s like you could feel each vein of his cock on your pink walls. You could feel your pussy crying for release, your orgasm at the tippy top. It was like a waterfall, your body trembled, but you could tell you weren’t the only one reaching that high.

Eren got quiet. And everytime he gets quiet, he starts biting that bottom lip of his.. he gets all red in the face and his brown hair starts to stick to his forehead a bit. His eyes spark focus, and he will then drop his head back. You watched it in the mirror, his every move.. that’s before he looked at you in the mirror once before a husky chuckle left his lips.. a moan escaping from his throat.. it was from the depths of his heart..

And his cum straight from his heavy balls went straight into your wetness. Your body took in every drop, every single one.

“I-Ion know if that did it or not..lemme try again”

ⓒ Monstas1ut .do not copy

[chuulyssa]

୨・──── ALL I WANT IS LOVE THAT LASTS, IS ALL I WANT TOO MUCH TO ASK ? ────・୧

pairing ⸺ satoru gojo x reader

teaser ⸺ trying to mend your broken bond with gojo satoru becomes difficult at the entrance of a rival, and you are torn between love that aches and love that heals. will satoru be able to win you back in time — or will the scars of yesterday refuse to tie you to a love that was never meant to be?

SECOND IN ARRANGED. [GOJO SATORU X READER]

READ PART I HERE

content ⸺ fluff, mostly f!reader, heavy angst, misunderstandings, mutual pining, slowburn, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, love triangle, shitty choices, implied abuse, jealousy, implied torture, implied slavery, mentions of grape, death, massacre, murder, royal!au, magic!au, historic!au

count ⸺ 22k + 2k

author’s note ⸺ so this marks the end of the series with gojo! watch out for ones with other characters <3 this came out way later than i had expected it to, oof. sorry to keep all of you waiting! for some reason tumblr is not letting me post the whole thing, so if you want to read what happens after 22k words, i’m leaving the ao3 and wattpad links as well.

🎧 ao3 wattpad

Three years had passed since that incident. You were now twenty years old, working a respectable job at Jujutsu High as a teacher. It was nice to utilize the knowledge you had gained back at the School of Royalty. Jujutsu High, as a school, was similar to the one you used to attend as a child, except the children here were far more humble.

You preferred this over anything else though. You wouldn’t want to spend the rest of your time around spoiled kids who had never heard the word ‘no’ in their lives.

It wasn’t necessarily the kids of the nobility that you despised, but rather the ideologies they carried with them. You still cringed remembering Kamo Alina babble about traditions “back at her kingdom”. Perhaps you had hatred against all noble clans, except your own, the Gojo clan, of course. The rest seemed too hollow and self-absorbed, and their kids seemed either too coddled or too burdened.

You were in charge of the first years at the school. You had few students, but they were all the best ones you could ask for: Maki Zenin, Toge Inumaki and Panda.

Maki was from the Zenin clan, whom you knew to be cunning and sly. She was very different from what the papers said about her lineage though — Maki had a knack for being good at fighting and war skills, whereas her clan was famous for running with their tails in between their legs from their opponents. You had caught the little girl staring at you more than once during your training sessions with Utahime. It was nice to have her watch; perhaps it was best that way for her to learn the things you did as well.

Toge was from the Inumaki clan, and used to speak in only food ingredients to not accidentally curse those around him. And finally, Panda was the ‘son’ of Principal Yaga, and a cursed corpse.

Here, you were glad you weren’t in charge of shaping heirs of stupid clans in a factory. Rather, you were to train and enhance those who were willing to learn. And in this humble, quiet school, you had found something even the nobility, who looked down upon the place as often as they could, could never offer to you: peace.

Things back at home… weren’t the best. Satoru was almost always away for ‘missions’ with Suguru, and it had been a long time since the two of you had even seen each other, let alone talk. You couldn’t recall the last time you both even sat together in the same room alone. He never told you where he was going, and you never asked — what was the point after all? He wouldn’t say even if you screamed at the top of your voice.

His mother had quite a few times tried to fix the situation between you two, but it never worked. Satoru had developed a strained relationship with his mother as well. After all, she had a hand in keeping the secret of your engagement from him, so how could he trust her again? Every time she tried to help, the gap between the entire family seemed to widen even more. It didn’t help that his father had stopped talking completely to his mother as well. There were rumours around the clan that the leaders were sleeping in separate rooms after that incident with the Kamo clan. You would have felt bad for her, if you didn’t feel worse for yourself.

Shoko had decided to pursue her medical education in a different kingdom. There was a void from where she had left, and although you were happy for her that she was able to live her dreams, the emptiness you felt whenever you reread your old letters made you feel sorry for yourself.

Utahime had been the only one to stay back with you. When you told her about your plans to teach at Jujutsu High, she immediately dropped her own things and joined the same school. You would often feel guilty for leading her to a different path than she had originally intended, but she would constantly reassure you that she would never have it any other way. At the school, the two of you would fool around with each other a lot, but the hollow space left by the old memories of the others would always nag at your brain the second you were by yourself.

Dinnertime at the table became a quiet affair. Oftentimes, while playing with the food on your plate, you missed the old banters between Satoru and his father. It almost felt like a distant memory from a whole other timeline, as if those little moments never happened at all. You usually ate your dinner alone in your room now, since it wasn’t worth coming all the way to the dining room anymore. Satoru’s father ate out every day, and his mother used to be the only one to eat at the table. If it weren’t for her, you wondered if you would be eating at all.

This night seemed like any other night when you had decided to eat at the table. Yet you couldn’t look up at your mother’s face and into her eyes. She looked paler than ever as if she was sick. Her eyes seemed hollow and dark, and if it weren’t for the tight grip she had on her chopsticks, you would have wondered if she had any strength in her left at all. After finishing your food quietly, you set your chopsticks down, and were about to stand up to bow and leave, when she stopped you.

“Stay,” she said this one word softly, and it took everything in you not to collapse in her arms at the sound of her weak voice. She didn’t look at you directly, but rather somewhere on the table, and she looked as if she was lost in thought, though you knew she had become this way ever since that night.

You sat back down, and stared at her as her grip on her chopsticks tightened ever so slightly. She opened a quivering lip to speak. “My son... my Satoru... He’s never been this upset… at me.”

You swallowed. He had never been this upset at you either. He had never been upset at all. You used to wonder if Satoru Gojo even had the word ‘upset’ in his dictionary. And now that was all you could see.

“I just hope…” she trembled slightly, “... that you can find it in your hearts to… to forgive me.” She looked up, and you looked away, for you knew the sight in front of you wouldn’t let you breathe another moment. You knew she was holding back tears. You were too.

“There is nothing to forgive,” you croaked out, hoping what you were saying was making sense. “I just wonder if this is worth going about if he isn’t happy with it.”

“It’s not, you’re right,” she murmured, looking back down to her plate. “I was a princess. I was told I could never be wrong. Yet here I am, hoping I am not, even though every cell of my body tells me I am.” Then she looked right into your eyes, and something in your heart broke again at her state. “Would you want to marry someone who was not him?”

You stopped. No. No, of course not. No, you would never, ever even dream of marrying someone that wasn’t him. But what could you do now? What could be done? If he did not want it, then how could you? How could you do something like this to him against his will? So slowly, you nodded. “Perhaps I could think about it. But not now.”

“I understand. Goodnight to you.”

“Goodnight, mother.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

“Good morning, Miss!”

“Good morning, Miss.”

“Salmon.”

“Yes, yes, good morning to all of you. Hurry up now, the first class starts in 15 minutes,” you said swiftly, waving at the kids. You turned to Utahime, who was staring at the parents dropping their kids off to catch some hot single dad she, or rather you, could have a chance with. “What class do you have first, Miss Transfiguration?”

“The annoying third-years,” she grumbled. “How about you, Miss Charms?”

“My first years. I’m charmed.”

“Sure, you are.”

You watched the carriage Maki had stepped out of. It was rather modest for someone of Zenin lineage. But what really caught Utahime’s attention wasn’t the car — it was the man who stepped out to escort Maki.

He was tall, with dyed blond hair that shimmered under the morning light, and striking brown eyes. Utahime froze.

“Wow.”

“What?”

“Wow. Is that… him?” she whispered, gripping your arm.

“Him?” you asked.

“The guy! From years ago!” she hissed as if that explained everything.

You raised an eyebrow, watching as the man exchanged a brief word with Maki before returning to his carriage. “Iori, you’re not making any sense.”

Utahime pulled out her wand and immediately began tapping it on her temple at a rapid pace. “Don’t you remember when those exchange students introduced themselves? In the hall? That cactus transfiguration kid? This is him. Look.”

A floating picture hovered in your hands. It was slightly blurry, moving up and down serenely, but you could make out the younger version of the man fixing his carriage in front of the school gates clearly. You blinked at the picture, then at Utahime.

“You… remember him enough to produce this complicated magic?” you asked, though you didn’t know whether to be amused or alarmed.

Utahime shrugged unapologetically. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief. “‘hime, you’re a stalker.”

She grinned, utterly unbothered. “A resourceful stalker, I’d say. Anyway, don’t you think he’s—”

“Don’t say it,” you warned, already seeing where this was going.

“—handsome?” she finished, her grin widening mischievously.

You groaned, covering your face. “Utahime, he’s Maki’s guardian. You make it sound like I’m ready to adopt her or something. That’s weird.”

She waved off your protest, nudging you playfully. “Come on, he’s single. Uh, probably. And if he’s not, well, that’s just unfortunate for him.”

“Why are we even talking about this?” you muttered.

“Because,” she said with mock seriousness, “you’ve been single for far too long, and this is an opportunity. So…” She leaned closer. “Why don’t you try flirting with him?”

You stared at her like she’d grown another head. “Preposterous. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” she teased, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

You glanced at the man who was now pulling away in the carriage looking like a war hero, and then back at Utahime. “Because I don’t feel like dying today. You know, the Zenin clan and all of that?”

She laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as you both headed back inside. “Suit yourself, but just know — I’m rooting for you!”

“Utahime,” you sighed, “you’re impossible.”

But her laughter was infectious, and you couldn’t help it.

You smiled.

──── ୨ৎ ────

The staffroom was unusually quiet, save for the faint scratch of your quill against parchment as you graded the first-years’ essays. Utahime, however, was anything but quiet. She had perched herself on the edge of your desk, her hands gripping the back of your chair as she swung it gently back and forth.

“Flirt with him,” she said.

“No,” you replied flatly, not looking up from the parchment.

“Come on, just a little?” she coaxed, leaning over your shoulder and nearly smudging the ink you’d just scrawled across a particularly poor attempt at a levitation charm essay.

You leaned back slightly, giving her a deadpan look. “Utahime, I am trying to work.”

“And I am trying to help you!” she shot back, as if her nagging about your love life was an act of selfless charity.

You sighed, putting down the quill and crossing your arms. “For the last time, I am not flirting with Maki’s guardian. That’s weird.”

“It’s not weird. It’s romantic,” she argued, dragging out the last word like it was a persuasive spell. “You’re single. He’s single—”

“We don’t know that he’s single,” you interjected, but Utahime waved you off.

“Semantics,” she said. “The point is, he’s clearly into you. Did you not see the way he looked at you yesterday?”

“The reason he even looked at me was because you shoved me in front of him like a sacrificial lamb,” you retorted.

“Details,” she said breezily, now swiveling your chair side to side. “But seriously, what’s the harm in a little bit of flirting? He’s charming, dashing, hot, and you’re… uh, you…?”

“Wow, thanks,” you said dryly, though you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

She grinned. “See? You’re already warming up to the idea,” she leaned in close to your face.

The door swung open. There he was, the same man both of you had just been talking about. He took one look inside the room and raised an eyebrow. Your eyes widened, because of course, without any context it looked like you and Utahime were just about to kiss. You shrieked and pushed her away and she laughed at you, though she stopped when she saw the man judging her silently. Maki face-palmed behind the man.

“Excuse me if I am interrupting something intimate,” he looked at you. “We had an appointment regarding Maki’s performance, yes?”

“Ho ho ho! Yes you did!” Utahime giggled and left the room, and it seemed like she had taken all the comfort out of it too, leaving you, him and Maki standing in it, staring at each other awkwardly. Maki coughed loudly and excused herself, and you made a mental note to reduce some points on her essay.

You cleared your throat as he took a seat across from you. His presence seemed to shrink the staffroom. He leaned back in the chair as if he owned the room. You focused on the stack of papers in front of you, determined to act professional. In your mind, you could hear Utahime’s voice still echoing: Flirt with him!

He folded his hands on the desk and his gaze flickered briefly to the papers in your hands before locking onto your face.

“I have to ask,” he began casually. “Are you and that colleague of yours… together?”

You froze mid-flip of Maki’s report card, staring at him as if he’d just asked you to duel. “What?”

He leaned back slightly with a faint smirk. “You and that woman. The way you two were before. It crossed my mind that you might be…” He trailed off.

“I’m not— she’s— what? No!” you sputtered, feeling your cheeks burn.

“Ah,” he said softly, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. “Thank heavens. I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself if you were.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

His smirk softened into something more playful. “Well, I’d have had to rethink all my plans, for starters.”

“Plans?” you echoed, your voice coming out higher-pitched than you had intended it to be.

“Mhm,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Plans like how to win your favour, of course. You can imagine how devastating it would’ve been to learn I stood no chance from the start.”

You could feel your brain short-circuiting. Was he flirting? Or was this just his sense of humor?

“I— uh— Maki!” you stammered, blurting out her name like it was a life saver. It technically was. “We’re supposed to be talking about Maki’s progress!”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Her progress is paramount. But forgive me — I’m a man of focus, and right now, my focus seems to have shifted.”

“Let’s have it shift back to Maki then,” you insisted.

He chuckled softly, leaning forward just enough to close the space between you ever so slightly. “As you wish. But if I may, just one more thing.”

You hesitated warily. “…What now?”

“You have the most fascinating reactions,” he said. “I could watch you get flustered all day.”

Your hands gripped the papers tightly, and you let out an exasperated sigh. “Mr Zenin, do you ever stop talking?”

His grin widened. “Not when I’m talking to someone this delightful. And it’s Naoya, to you, darling.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

For the school’s 107th anniversary, you and the other teachers had decided to plan a surprise event for the students, guardians and even the principal. But as you stared at the chairs lying askew everywhere, and the food stall looking like it had undergone a raid, you sighed. Who would have to clean everything up in the end? The teachers, of course.

You bent down to pick a random flask up from the ground, and you looked up to see Naoya standing at the entrance of the schoolgates. You watched as he shooed away the carriage with Maki and their driver in it, and walked towards you.

You got up quickly and panicked, eyes darting everywhere to see if he really was walking to you or not. Naoya stopped in front of you, and suddenly the flask in your hands seemed too heavy. You dropped it, but he caught the tin, lips curving into a smile at your surprise.

“Astonishing reflexes, hm?” You nodded at his words and he laughed. “That was quite the show, I believe. You handle large crowds really well.”

You half-laughed at the compliment, looking down at your shaking hands. Why were you so nervous?

“Yeah, well, the crowd has departed now, and this is the tough bit.”

“I can help,” he smiled at you, and you blinked in surprise.

“Ah, you don’t have to. Besides, we can’t make guardians work for us.”

“I insist.” He pulled the sleeves of his shirt up and put his hands on his hips. “Where are the inconveniences that have you so troubled? I shall fight them.”

You snickered a bit. His dramatic actions reminded you of someone.

A certain someone.

Maybe that’s why you liked his company.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you saw him staring at the upturned tables with dread. “Has there been a call of war here?”

“Close enough. The seller had mochis on his bill of fare.”

“That sums it up. But you can’t possibly expect me to dirty my hands with this. A nobleman shouldn’t be doing manual labor,” he shook his head and sighed.

You raised an eyebrow at that. “You’re the one who insisted on staying to help.”

Naoya grinned. “Well, I can’t leave my favorite teacher to fend for herself. Besides…” He picked up two chairs effortlessly with one hand, and turned around to see if you were still watching. “It’s a chance to show off.”

Maybe it won’t be as boring with him around after all.

You had found yourself in this lonely teahouse far more than you could admit for someone of your status. It usually buzzed with the chatter of lonely workers, gossiping seamstresses and little children. But it was better, far better than what was going on at home anyway. You stared at your chawan, and put your fingers around it to drink. But the vessel was hot, and you hissed as you withdrew your hand back, the tea inside seemingly hissing back menacingly.

“Careful, darling,” a voice said from behind you and you jumped. “I said, careful,” he taunted, rubbing the top of your head affectionately. You looked up to meet Naoya’s eyes, your own widening when you saw him.

“Naoya!”

“Fancy meeting you here. I didn’t think I’d find you in such a quaint little spot.”

“Me neither. Isn’t this place,” you waved around at the dull walls of the room, “below your usual standards, Mr Zenin?”

He crossed your table to pull out a chair in front of you and sat down. “I could say the same about you. Or perhaps,” he brushed his fingers on your lips to wipe the wetness of tea from earlier, “we were led here by fate.”

You choked on air at his action. “Fate? We’re just at a teahouse. It’s not exactly a meeting of the stars.”

Naoya grinned at your fluster, and leaned forward playfully. “Ah, but you see, fate works in mysterious ways. And right now, it’s working to bring me closer to the most captivating woman in the room.”

“Ha, ha,” you mumbled, staring into your vessel to avoid meeting his eyes. “You talk too much.”

He laughed softly. The server arrived with a platter of sweets, and bowed, “For the lovely couple.”

You spat the tea you had just sipped out. “We— we’re not—”

“Thank you, miss,” Naoya interrupted you swiftly, and nodded at the server, who immediately straightened up to take his leave.

You stared at him, aghast. “Naoya, we’re not—”

“Not yet, at least. But I’m not opposed to the idea. How about we take the first step?” He leaned in closer and planted a teasing kiss on your cheek.

Your jaw dropped — from embarrassment or at his audacity, you did not know. “What—?”

“There. Now we’re official.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

You clutched your bag tightly. Great, another rainy day. And you had refused the umbrella your maid had offered to you as well. Sighing, you looked at the sky. The downpour didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon. If only a miracle happened that would escort you back home safely.

“Stranded, are we?” Naoya’s voice broke through the rain. You turned to see him standing with a pristine black umbrella, grinning at you as if he was not surprised at all to meet you here.

“Yeah. You stayed back? Where’s Maki?”

“Oh, I left her to go home in the carriage,” he shifted the handle of his umbrella to one shoulder. “Need me?”

“I’ll manage,” you replied, not wanting to disturb him. Though part of you wondered whether he would be here if you hadn’t been stuck here as well.

“Let’s not ruin such a lovely sight with such a disaster. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“I’ll be fine, really. You don’t have to—”

“I insist. Or would you prefer I let you catch a cold? Then you’d have no choice but to rely on me to nurse you back to health.”

You groaned. “You’re impossible.” Realizing you had no way home without his help, you stood under his umbrella. He grinned at you, tilting the umbrella more towards you to shield you from the harsh rain.

“You’re getting wet,” you pointed out.

“It’s a small price to pay.” He glanced at you with a sly smile. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about me.”

“I’m not,” you scoff slightly.

“Good. I’d hate for you to think I’m fragile.”

The walk ahead was comfortable, although you didn’t think that was the case for Naoya. By the time you had reached the entrance of the clan, you could see Naoya’s sleeves were drenched. But he didn’t seem to mind at all. His eyes followed something ahead that you coulldn’t see through the fog that covered the atmosphere.

“Naoya? What are you looking at?” You asked, and he huffed in irritation — more so at the thing he had seen than at you.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and you involuntarily sucked your stomach in at it. He led you to the figure.

White hair… Lovely blue eyes…

Your fiance who refused to be yours.

Gojo Satoru.

He was leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed in front of him, staring at you two through his sunglasses as if he would rather be looking at anything else than at the fingers curling around your waist.

Naoya, much to your horror, approached Satoru with you still in his arms. “Greetings,” he said pleasantly. “We’ve met before, yes?”

“Yes,” Satoru replied coolly. Then he addressed you, though his eyes didn’t quite meet yours. “Who’s he?”

You started. Fuck. What was he to you? An acquaintance? The guardian of one of your students? An associate—?

“Her boyfriend,” Naoya stepped in before you could respond, and you watched Satoru’s eyes lose what little warmth they had earlier. He turned to you as if expecting you to deny the claim.

“What? I mean, I guess…? Maybe? But I’m not sure—”

Satoru arched an eyebrow, and let out a single syllable that made your heart break into pieces all over again. “Oh.” He looked at you with an expression you couldn’t understand at all. His lips were twitched, but he wasn’t happy. His eyebrows were furrowed, but he wasn’t confused. You felt like he was toying with your brain on purpose with all the failed hints his face gave.

Naoya grinned smugly. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave her in your care now, brother.” He was clearly enjoying himself.

Your eyes widened.

Look… I’ve never thought of you that way before, okay? You’re… you’re pretty, but you’re like a sister to me. That’s how I’ve always seen you.

Satoru’s eyes darkened, and he shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a step back. “Great. Fantastic,” he mocked you. “I’m so glad you’re being taken care of, my little sister.”

A few more minutes passed, though they were so awkward you did not have the courage to relive them. Naoya had left with a smirk and a wave, and Satoru had followed you inside the estate when all you wanted to do was get away from him.

“You’re… back, haha,” you mumbled, and he nodded. The rain patted against the windowsill softly, and each drop felt like it rained in your heart.

“Is he really your boyfriend?” He blurted out.

“Huh?” You were caught off guard. “Oh, um… I don’t know? He took me out for coffee once. Does that count?”

“No, absolutely not,” Satoru scoffed.

You paused. And then you let out a laugh. He stared at you and let out a bark of laughter as well.

“Him? Your boyfriend,” he wiped the tears off from his eyes. “The audacity!”

“Typical of him, I suppose,” you chortled.

“What did he even ask you for the coffee thing?”

“He said he wanted to talk about Maki’s essays,” you snickered, and he cackled.

“Essays?”

“Yeah!”

“You know, you should probably go on a real date sometime. Just so you can tell the difference between a parent-teacher conference and, y’know, an actual date,” he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yeah? And who’s going to take me out on this ‘real date’? You?” You teased.

Satoru froze. He opened his mouth as if to respond, then quickly closed it, his gaze flickering away from you.

You felt the awkwardness returning from earlier. Forcing out a laugh, you waved your hand dismissively. “I’m kidding! Obviously. Haha. Anyway, I should, uh, go now. Busy day tomorrow and all that. So, um, goodnight!”

You practically bolted from the room, leaving Satoru standing there, staring at where you had just been. His hand twitched as if he wanted to stop you, but he stayed silent, his jaw tightening as he watched you retreat.

You locked your door, hoping you weren’t being wishful as always when you heard the faint murmur of his voice.

“Maybe I would.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

The next morning, you stepped out of your house, adjusting your bag of supplies on your shoulder. Rejecting your driver who had offered you a ride in the luxurious carriage, you walked on, greeting the little children of the various families of your clan. Crossing the gate of the main estate, you found Satoru leaning casually against a nearby carriage, waiting for something — or rather, someone. 

“Morning,” he said, grinning like he had been there for hours. His sunglasses reflected the surprise in your eyes under the morning light.

“Uh… good morning?” You blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged at you. “Thought you might need a ride.”

“Don’t you have work?” You asked sceptically. He had had missions and trips to be on all this time, so why was he here now?

He shrugged again, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Not yet. Free morning.”

“Oh,” you frowned at his excuse. “Well, I usually just walk to work. Sorry.”

“Ah, well, no problem then,” he straightened up, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves. “I’ll walk with you.”

“What? No, it’s alright—”

Satoru waved the driver of the carriage off and waltzed over to you. “Too late. I’m committed now.”

You sighed in defeat, letting him walk with you. Silence loomed over you, the kind that made you hyper aware of every crunch the leaves under your feet made, every chirp the birds on nearby trees let out, and even every breath you didn’t know you kept holding.

“It’s a nice morning, huh?” He finally broke the tense silence, though the strain in his voice made it even more awkward.

“Yeah it is,” you glanced and nodded at him briefly.

Another long stretch of silence. When did you two become this way? Nevermind, you remembered the day it all had started a bit too clearly for your liking. But this seemed too delicate, too much. How was your walk with the arrogant Naoya Zenin more comfortable than one with the person you had spent nearly all your life with?

“So,” he started again, clearing his throat, “you walk this route every day?”

“It’s not that far,” you nodded.

“It’s been a while since I walked anywhere,” he chuckled softly to himself.

You risked a small smile in the midst of the unpleasant stillness. “Yeah, I remember. You always complained if the carriage wasn’t ready, or if you were sent to meet other clans on foot.”

“I was spoiled,” he grinned proudly. “Still am, probably.”

Despite yourself, you laughed softly. But it was fleeting, and the silence returned to keep reminding you of how much everything has changed. By the time you reached the gates of Jujutsu High, the sun was higher in the sky. Satoru stopped a few stops short of the massive gateway.

“Well, here you are,” he turned to look at you with softened eyes.

You nodded and adjusted your bag. “Thanks for walking with me.”

“Anytime,” he smiled. Faint as it was, it still didn’t reach his eyes.

In the faculty lounge at Jujutsu High, you sat with Utahime after she had barked at the other teachers to let her have some “alone time” with you. It seemed as if although she was trying her best to get you and Naoya together, she was hardly denying the rumours between you and her.

 She suddenly perked up mid-cursing at an answer paper of one of the third-years. “Oh, right! Did you hear? There’s a new recruit for a teaching position. Principal Yaga told me yesterday.”

“Oh, cool,” you snapped out of your own thoughts about the weird tension Naoya had landed you in. “Who’s interviewing them?”

“You, duh.” You groaned audibly and she laughed. 

“Hopefully it’s not another Ijichi,” you grumbled, wincing as you remembered the interview you had with him a few months ago.

“Be nice,” she said, though she snickered at the memory. “He was just nervous!”

“Nervous?” You huffed loudly. “Utahime, the man tripped over his own feet before he even sat down. And I wasn’t even intimidating!”

“You? Not intimidating?” She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, definitely. Tell that to the first-years.”

“I’m a delight,” you shrugged, batting your eyelashes innocently. “Ijichi, on the other hand… couldn’t even make eye contact during the interview. I had to repeat my question three times before he answered.”

“Maybe this one will be better,” she got excited, and you knew what she was thinking of before it even came out of her mouth. “Who knows? They might even impress you—”

“No,” you snapped, and she giggled.

You were in enough of what your teenage self would have called “boy troubles” already to have a third one enter your life. First Satoru, then Naoya, and now Satoru again. You sighed. Shouldn’t you be flattered that a guy like Naoya shows interest in you? He’s rich, a noble (although the Gojo clan wouldn’t care about status either way), handsome and romantic. What more could you want? But on the other hand, Satoru is… well… him? You hardly think anyone would be able to compete with the Satoru you knew.

Utahime set down her papers and held your hand, as if determined to show you how a real man should hold you. “Alright, what’s wrong?” She asked gently. “You’ve been off for days. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

You hesitated. “Satoru,” you muttered.

“Of course,” she sighed. She inhaled loudly before— “That insufferable, pompous cretin! A walking disgrace to his lineage! I’ve met noble horses with more grace and tact! A royal pain, in every possible way. That walking definition of idiocy needs to be knocked off his pedestal, preferably into a pile of mud.”

You blinked rapidly. You’d be lying if you understood a single word that she just said.

“What does that even mean?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she waved a hand dismissively, fuming with rage. “The point is, he’s an idiot. The biggest idiot. And if he’s making you feel like this, then I’m going to—”

“Okay, okay!” You smiled faintly at her ambitious attempt to choke thin air with her hands as if grabbing his throat. “But it’s not just him.”

“There’s more? It’s alright, I can fight—”

“Not for fighting!” You added quickly, alarmed. “It’s Naoya.”

“What did he do?” She stopped her antics.

“I just feel like I’m stuck between those two,” you palmed your face. You were utterly distraught. “Satoru keeps walking me to work, like he’s trying to fix things, but then Naoya, he’s been kind, attentive, and all of the good stuff you keep babbling about. I don’t know what to do if it ever came down to choosing between them.”

She leaned forward seriously, and forced your chin upwards to meet her eyes like your second mother. “Listen. Ask yourself two questions. First: Who sees you for you? Not the ‘I’m-strong-enough-to-not-need-anyone-else’ image you’ve been trying to put up, not the teacher you’ve become, but just… you. The good and the bad.”

“And the second?” You frowned thoughtfully.

“Who makes you feel safe?” She said simply. “Not just physically, but emotionally as well. Who can you trust with your heart, knowing they’ll look after it like the finest treasure?”

Like the finest treasure? The answer was simple.

But not the one you wanted.

Not who you craved.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Utahime gave you a small smile. “Just don’t settle for less than you deserve, okay?”

You nodded gratefully. “You’re way better at this than you seem like, you know.”

“I’m a delight,” she echoed your words from earlier, giggling.

──── ୨ৎ ────

It had been almost a month since the walks with Satoru had begun. You had hoped as time went by you would’ve gotten more used to the tension it carried, but each day seemed to offer a new, worse one. The quietness lingered heavily between you, just like it had been all this while.

“So,” he started, glancing at you, “am I annoying you?”

“What?” You cross-questioned, startled at the insecurity in his voice. “No, why would you think that?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged, trying his best to be nonchalant, but you knew him too well to know it was an act. “It’s been over a month of me tagging along, and you haven’t said much. I thought maybe you’d prefer walking with someone else. Like Naoya,” he mumbled the last part.

“No,” you said firmly. “You’re not annoying—”

“I just hoped,” he cut you off, “you’d think this was better than with him. That’s all.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just hummed, looking away at a nearby tree and counting the number of leaves on it.

“Yeah,” Satoru chuckled quietly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thought so.”

You couldn’t reply to that.

“Here we are,” he murmured, opening the schoolgates for you just to find something to do. But when he followed behind you inside, you raised an eyebrow.

“You’re coming all the way in? Don’t worry, Naoya won’t step inside the school.”

“Good to know,” he adjusted his sunglasses, “but I’m not worried about Naoya.”

“Then?”

He closed the gates and turned to face you, beaming despite his earlier demeanour. “I’m a candidate for the teaching post.”

“What?!”

“What? You didn’t know?” He tilted his head, acting innocent. “Thought I’d apply for the position. Figured it was about time I contributed my immense knowledge to the next generation.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You? A teacher?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment even though it’s meaningless that way,” he pouted at you. He then pushed past you to the hallway. “You’re the one interviewing me, hopefully? Race you!”

“What the— Satoru, come back!” But he was already running to whatever empty classroom he could find. Talk about professionalism.

You marched off to Principal Yaga’s office and burst in, resulting in him nearly stabbing his own finger with a sewing needle. “Sir! I can’t do this.

“It’s 8 in the morning,” he sighed wearily. “And what is it that you can’t do?

“I cannot interview that man.”

“Why not?”

You gestured wildly at the hall, from where audible noises of furniture being dragged around could be heard. “Because it’s Gojo Satoru.”

“I see.” Yaga leaned back in his chair, staring at the hall with a transfixed look. “Well, if it’s such a problem, I’ll just have Utahime handle it.”

Uh oh.

“No, no. She’ll kill him. Literally.” And you didn’t feel like cleaning up a crime scene today.

“With killer questions?” He remarked thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “Then it’s settled. She’ll—”

“No, sir! I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“Yes I do,” you gritted your teeth. 

You had finally found the man after looking through twenty three whole classrooms spinning rapidly on a chair. You coughed loudly and he jumped, though he sighed in relief when he saw that it was just you.

“Thought I’d get fired if the Principal saw me this way,” he said as you sat on the chair in front of him. “And I haven’t even been hired yet. Imagine that!”

“You know I could reject you as a candidate as well, right?” You rolled your eyes.

“What? No, you wouldn’t!” He shouted indignantly. “I knew I shouldn’t have eaten your last mochi.”

“What? You ate my last mochi?”

Satoru gulped, and you groaned.

You clutched your clipboard, already regretting your decision. “Alright, Mr. Gojo. Let’s begin.”

He grinned. “Of course, Mrs. Gojo. Don’t let me distract you.”

“Let’s start with the basics,” you tried to sound as professional as you could. “What experience do you have working with students?”

“Well, I’ve been mentoring the younger sorcerers unofficially,” he leaned back in his chair with a lazy smile. “Does being charming count?”

“No.”

“Really?” He tilted his head. “Because I think it’s working on you.”

You paused. “This isn’t a date,” you glared at him. “It’s an interview.”

“So you do know what a date is,” his grin widened in size. “Guess Naoya didn’t ruin you completely.”

“Why do you want this position?” You gritted your teeth.

“Figured I’d spend more time with you.”

“How do you handle indiscipline in the classroom?” You deadpanned.

“Depends,” he tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Are we talking about kids or you?”

Fucking—

“Do you even want this job?”

“I do,” he said simply.

You slammed your clipboard on the table in annoyance and stood up. “You’re following me, aren’t you?” You pointed an accusing finger at his face.

He looked at you incredulously. “What? No. Why would I—” He stopped, and his tone softened. “I’m here because I’m sick of the nobility and their entitlement.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” He stood up as well, crossing his arms and speaking more earnestly than you had ever heard from him. “Kids from those circles? You can’t change them — they’re too far gone. But here? The students come from humble families. They still have a shot at thinking for themselves, at doing things for the right reasons. I want to make sure they don’t grow up like us.”

You were stunned into silence, but before you could respond, a voice came from the doorway.

“Congratulations, Satoru Gojo. You’re hired,” said Principal Yaga, sparing one glance into the room and then leaving again.

Satoru’s expression changed again, and he was beaming like he hadn’t just bared his soul out to you a few moments ago. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, huh?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “…Great.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

“This,” you gestured to a nearby door, “is the main classroom. It’s where first-years have their lessons. It’s equipped with barriers for live combat simulations, so the—”

“You know, you’ve got a really soothing voice,” Satoru cut in. “Ever think of switching to narration?”

“Shut up,” you shot him a glare. “Are you just here to waste my time?”

“Can’t I appreciate you a little?” He pouted, but when your look refused to soften, his shoulder sank and head drooped, and he trailed behind you like a small puppy.

So cute.

No, fuck, what the fuck are you thinking?

You walked on ahead, and the whispers from all those years ago that had remained in your thoughts seemed to bloom louder again.

You don’t even belong in this house!

We’re not kids forever, you know.

The two people I trust the most in this world!

Nothing more. Nothing less.

“Are you oka—?”

“Why are you here, Satoru?”

His smirk faltered. “I told you. I want to help shape the next generation—”

“And you’re telling me it has nothing to do with me?”

His gaze softened. “Would it be so bad if it did?”

You bit your lip, trying to shut out all the voices echoing in your head. “After what you said to me all those years ago? Because if you think that can be fixed then—”

“Stop.”

You did.

“I don’t know how old you think I was then, but it’s not like you were any older than me at that time. I want you to understand that,” he spun you around to face him, “I want to change. I want to show you how much I regret raising my voice at you that way.”

“Is that all you regret?” You asked.

He paused a bit, then fixed his sunglasses to cover his eyes completely. “No. I regret saying that—”

“Hey there!” chirped in a voice you almost didn’t recognize from how much you were focussing on Satoru’s words. Satoru’s face hardened when he saw the person waving at you from behind. You turned to look at him.

“Naoya?”

“Yes, missed me? I dropped Maki with the driver earlier than usual for you,” Naoya strode up to you, and hooked his arm with yours, snatching you away from Satoru’s grip. “Let’s walk you home, darling.”

“You know, Naoya, for someone who talks a lot about class, you’re pretty shameless when it comes to interrupting private conversations,” Satoru spat venomously, making the latter turn around to face him sneering.

“Private? Oh, forgive me,” Naoya snickered. “I didn’t realize you were finally learning how to talk to a woman. But could you get a different one? This one’s taken.”

“Oh, shut up. Isn’t it past your bedtime, Zenin? Shouldn’t you be off practicing your bowing skills or groveling to your clan?”

“Groveling?” Naoya smirked, clearly unbothered. “Not my style, Gojo. That’s more your speed, isn’t it? Or did you think running off to teach would make people forget how much of a disappointment you are?”

“Uh, okay,” you tried to interrupt. “I don’t think—” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Satoru cut you off, leaning forward with mock curiosity. “Must be hard living in a world where your only personality trait is kissing your elders’ feet.”

“Says the man who threw away everything his clan worked for,” Naoya mocked back. “Couldn’t handle the pressure of actually being useful?”

“Useful?” Satoru laughed maniacally, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “Is that what you call wagging your tail for every decision the Zenin fossils make?”

“Enough! Please. You two are acting like kids—” You stepped in between them and raised your hands.

“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing, Gojo,” Naoya chided. “Trying to fix what you broke, crawling back like the desperate little rat you are.”

“Desperate, huh? And what are you? You’re just a carbon copy of every other one of your morons. Must be boring living without a spine.”

“Better a spine than whatever it is you call yourself. A disgrace to the Gojo clan. No wonder they’ve been so quiet about you. They’re probably embarrassed.”

“Okay, enough! I don’t have time for this,” you shouted.

Naoya immediately shut up. “Are we overwhelming you, darling? I can always walk you home. Gojo here,” his expression soured again, “can find his own way back.”

Satoru’s jaw tightened. “Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you.”

“Yeah? Then why don’t you just let her choose?”

“Of course.”

Both of them turned to you simultaneously, and you made a mental note to never interrupt their conversations ever again. Before things could escalate further, however, a sharp voice cut in.

“What in the name of all things holy, proper, appropriate, virtuous, demure, and absolutely not Utahime Iori is going on here?”

“Wow, did you just compare yourself to a holy being?” Satoru snickered, and earned a slap on the back of his head by her.

“I said ‘absolutely not’, you white-haired freak.”

“Utahime!” You sighed in relief, running to hug her around the waist, and she patted your head pitifully.

“There, there. You were stuck in this pissing contest between manchildren, weren’t you? You poor, poor soul.”

“Woman,” Naoya curled his lip, “don’t you have better things to do than stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

“Like you’re doing right now?” Utahime replied coolly. “We’re leaving,” she yanked you away from them with her.

“Wait—” Naoya protested.

“Hey—” Satoru stepped forward.

“No. Bye,” Utahime turned around with her nose high in the air, and you gave a meek wave to both of them. They did cancel their plans to walk you home, but god did you feel grateful to be dragged away from their fights about winning you like an object.

──── ୨ৎ ────

Life had taken a strange, twisting turn ever since Satoru had re-entered your world. The once awkward silences during his walks with you were replaced by lively conversations now. He was speaking to you more now. He would sometimes do or say things that reminded you of how he was, but it wasn’t quite the same. He still hadn’t joined you for dinner again, despite the seat you subconsciously left empty every night at the table.

Meanwhile, Naoya was relentless in his pursuit — walking you to school, picking you up, showing up at your door with every excuse in the book, Impress to Repress: A Noble’s Guide to Obtain the Perfect Wife. Funnily enough, you didn’t suppose it would be too far-fetched to think he had that book somewhere in his room with the way he would speak with you.

“I thought you might need help carrying your books,” he’d say, flashing you that perfect smile as though you couldn’t see past the charm. Or: “A lady shouldn’t walk alone in the evening.” And his favorite: “I dropped Maki off early for you.”

It wasn’t entirely unwelcome, though. Naoya was charming and thoughtful in a way that had its appeal, but it also left you feeling like you were being swooped away too far, like he was a strong tide made to sweep you off your feet. But when the tide receded, you found yourself glancing over your shoulder, wondering if Satoru had noticed.

Just who should you love?

Naoya was kind — kinder than you’d expected him to be. He knew how to make you laugh, smile, blush all the same. But his ego often left you bristling. He would decide for you even though you wanted to do it yourself, and part of you wondered if he was just like the Kamo servants and nobles you had seen earlier.

And then there was Satoru. He’d shattered your heart three years ago with careless words. The memory still burned like a fresh wound, but there were moments now when you saw something different in him. Something softer. Something that almost made you believe he could fix what he’d broken. But it was too toxic to linger on.

You reached the teacher’s lounge and found it empty except for Utahime, who was leaning against a desk, flipping through a stack of papers. She glanced up as you entered.

“Finally decided to get a break?”

“Yeah. Did you bully all the other teachers out again?”

“Thank me for that,” she poked her tongue out as you sat down laughing.

“Actually, I came here to ask you something,” you hesitated.

“Hm?”

“Why—” you huffed. “Why did you step in that day? You know, with both of them. You were supposed to let me… choose.”

Utahime set her pen down with a soft sigh. “Because you weren’t ready.”

“What do you mean?” You frowned. “I could’ve—”

“Could you, though?” She wondered loudly. “I’ve known you long enough to recognize when you’re drowning in your own head. You’re still holding onto pieces of your past with Satoru while Naoya’s practically dragging you into his future. And you? You’re just standing there, caught in the middle, hoping someone else will make the choice for you.”

You spluttered at how accurately she described your situation. “But you said—”

“I said ‘take your time’, didn’t I?”

“You did,” you sighed. “But what if it’s too late?”

“If it is, then a choice will be made for you,” her eyes darkened. “You know what clans are like. The Kamo clan even set up a proposal for Satoru, and he was just seventeen at the time.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but what could you say? If it wasn’t for your mother that day, Satoru would’ve been married off at the mere age of seventeen. The Kamo clan’s elder daughter had been married off at a young age as well, from what you had heard from their maids. Who’s to say that won’t be the case for you as well? How long could your mother shelter you after all?

Utahime softened slightly. “I stepped in that day because you needed time. But don’t think for a second that I’m going to keep doing it. This is your life. Your future. And you’re the only one who gets to decide who’s in it. So stop running in circles.”

“But I’m scared,” you croaked out.

“Scared?”

“What if I make the wrong choice?” You said quietly, looking down at your own hands.

Utahime leaned back with a small smile. “Then you deal with it, just like everyone else. But at least it’ll be your choice, not theirs.”

You nodded slightly.

“Oh, and one more thing — next time, don’t let two grown men fight over you in public. It’s embarrassing.”

You sat there, chewing on your own nail and wondering if you should laugh, cry, or start packing your bags to run away from both Satoru and Naoya entirely.

──── ୨ৎ ────

On Utahime’s advice, you had prepared two separate diaries to recount heart-fluttering scenarios you had with each man to help you ‘decide’ between them. As much as you found the whole idea ridiculous, you figured trying it won’t hurt. You had asked both Naoya and Satoru to buy you a diary each just to see how differing the outcomes would be.

Now, you picked a diary that looked posh and had a sophisticated-looking leather twine to strap it shut. The cover looked menacing, and the pages were eerily white. You did not have to second-guess to know who bought this one.

“Naoya,” you muttered, scribbling his name along the first page. You then turned to the next page, and began writing.

1. Cafe dates... he always ordered my drink without asking. Polite, attentive, charming... but also predictable.

2. Parent-teacher meeting dates? Oh god, does that even count? It’s just like what Satoru said.

You paused. Were you supposed to add Satoru’s name while writing in Naoya’s diary? Scoffing, you continued.

He made sure my notes were perfect, held doors open, smiled at every passing teacher like he was running for class president.

3. Dinner at the estate — ugh. The way he spoke to mother, like he was auditioning to be the next clan leader. Why is he so flawless?

You groaned aloud.

“Is he just too perfect or am I just being unfair?”

Annoyed, and also running out of romantic scenarios to write for Naoya’s diary, you picked up Satoru’s diary. It was like the old one you had maintained when you were thirteen. You giggled a little remembering how much you had to plan and strategize on the diary’s hidden location to keep it away from him. You couldn’t be caught dead with him knowing what was in it.

The first thing he had said when you had asked for a new diary was, “Why, is my charm too much for you that you have to pen it down so you don’t overflow?” And god, was he right.

You ran your fingers on the spine of the diary. It was your favourite colour — you wondered how he still remembered that. Did he have his own secret diary you had to find soon? You opened it and began writing.

“Where do I even start with you, you pumpkin?” You giggled at the words you had just scribbled.

1. The staff room date. Well, if you can even call it a date. You barged in uninvited, stole half my lunch, and started criticizing my handwriting like you were some literary genius. Just like you used to. What did you call it when we were kids? A calligraphy competition on every page, huh?

You remembered the scenario all too well.

The staffroom was peaceful for once, the only sounds coming from the ticking clock and the low murmur of the other teachers quietly going about their breaks. You were tucked into the corner by the windows, your lunch spread in front of you, savoring the rare moment.

And of course, it was then that the door flung open with an obnoxious swing.

Satoru Gojo.

You didn’t even have to look up.

“Well, well, look who’s having lunch all alone! No invite for me? Rude.” he smirked, sliding into the chair opposite you like he belonged there. Without waiting for your response, he reached over and casually snatched a piece of your lunch.

You sighed. “I didn’t invite you because I didn’t want you here.”

“Fair enough. Lucky for you, I’m here to grace you with my presence anyway.” He gobbled up your lunch. “Hmm, not bad. You didn’t cook this yourself, did you?”

You snatched your box away from him. “Can you not? This is my lunch.”

Satoru leaned back with a huff. “Whatever.” He noticed your open notebook. “What’s this? Lesson plans? Don’t tell me you’ve been taking this teaching thing seriously.”

“Don’t touch that!”

But he did. And he held it out of reach, flipping through the pages. “Relax, I’m just taking a look. Whoa. Your handwriting hasn’t changed a bit.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, it looks like you’re trying to win an award for best handwriting or something.”

You flushed. “I just like making it neat!”

“Neat? Are you kidding? I remember trying to copy your style once when we were kids, and mom thought I was possessed.”

You snorted. “Maybe you were just bad at writing.”

“Oh, absolutely. I gave up halfway and just stuck to my chicken scratch.”

2. The sparring match. I hated you for pairing up with me for what? “Showing the kids how it’s done”? What does that even mean? And what kind of lunatic goes easy for three rounds and then wipes the floor with you in the fourth? But afterward, you stayed to help me fix my form. You didn’t have to... but you did.

In the grounds, you stood with your wand in your hand, and across from you stood Satoru, smirking confidently, his wand poised like an extension of his arm.

“Showing off, huh?”

“Shut up, you’re the one who needed my help in ‘teaching these kiddos’,” you shot back. “And besides, I don’t need you to show off in front of them."

“Who said I’m showing off?” He grinned. “Just here to make sure you don’t embarrass yourself.”

He flicked his wand, sending light spells your way. You blocked them as best as you could, but he was always one step ahead.

“You’re not even trying!” You shouted.

“Of course not, I’m just giving you a chance.”

But then, without warning, he shifted his stance and cast a powerful spell that knocked your wand from your hand.

“What the—?”

“Language.”

“—hell”

“Just showing you how it’s done,” he shrugged, and you gritted your teeth.

He stepped closer, handing you your wand. Reluctantly, you took your wand.

“Since when did you become better than me at this?” You asked him.

“Since you forgot your old self among your new troubles,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye.

3. The stargazing. God, Satoru, you’re insufferable. Who even points out constellations while lying on the grass and makes up fake names for them just to make someone laugh?

You laid on the grass, watching the night sky stretch endlessly above you. Satoru was beside you, dramatically pointing at every star he could set his eyes on.

“You see that one? That’s the Satoru constellation. Handsome, charming, and clearly the best in the sky.”

“I don’t think that’s a real constellation,” you giggled.

“It is if I say it is,” he pulled a face.

“Alright, alright,” you shook your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are. Lying next to me, staring at my constellation.”

You stayed quiet, watching as his expression softened. He turned to you, lifting his head with the palm of his hand and looking right into your eyes with his bright blue ones.

“You know,” he whispered. “Stars are kind of overrated.”

You turned to look at him. “Why’s that?”

He spared half a glance at the sky before leaning in to nuzzle into your neck, but he stopped short, barely a few inches away from your skin. “Because I’ve been staring at something brighter all night.”

Your breath hitched, but before you could respond, he turned back to the sky, his usual grin breaking the moment. “I’m just a chill guy, just thinking, you know.”

“About what?” You asked curiously.

“How someone as brilliant as you still gets stars in her eyes every time she looks up.”

“Wow, that’s surprisingly poetic of you.”

“Right?” He gushed over himself. “Don’t get used to it though. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“There it is,” you smiled.

“But seriously,” he laid his head down on the grass right next to your chest. “I don’t mind the stars. I just think the view’s better when you’re in it.”

You turned away, pretending to admire the flowers, but the heat in your cheeks might have given you away.

Why did you look at me like that, like I was the only star that mattered?

──── ୨ৎ ────

Maki leaned against your desk, watching you intently. “So... what's going on with you and Naoya?”

You widened your eyes. She had insisted on staying back to help you rearrange the chairs after class, yet here she was now, asking you questions about your personal life. 

“Why does that matter?” You asked, sounding more defensive than you had intended to be.

“He’s from my clan,” she said, as if that was enough of a reason for you to talk about the weird love triangle you had landed yourself in. She sat on your desk, swinging her legs up and down.

“Look, I... I don’t really know. I mean, it’s definitely more than what I expected, but I’m not sure where it’s going.”

Maki raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing into a thin line as if she was considering something. She seemed rather skeptical.

“Alright, just don’t martyr yourself for him.”

Your stomach twisted at her words. Did she even realize what she was saying? You looked up at her, trying to read her expression, but it was hard to tell what she was really thinking.

“What does that even mean?” You asked incredulously.

Maki sighed, pushing herself off from the desk. She walked a few steps towards you. “He’s not worth it,” she said, and then she left the classroom just like that.

What the hell?

You’d known all this while the Zenin clan was among the more orthodox and conservative ones, and you considered yourself lucky to be part of the Gojo clan, one of the more lenient ones. But seeing a young girl, a student you had been teaching for a while nonetheless, voice out a cryptic message, or rather a plea for help from misogynistic fucks, perhaps, made you second-guess the whole idea all over again.

Just what has this girl been through?

Later that day, you spotted Maki and Naoya leaving together, and felt the pit in your stomach deepen.

Something was not right.

──── ୨ৎ ────

Your ears had perked up when you had been told by your mother that there was another meeting of the clans of the nobility, but that wasn’t what had you interested. It was the fact that all the clans would be present, and that included the Ieri, Iori and Geto clans. As much as you were sure your friends would hate to attend this stupid meeting, Satoru’s suggestion of sneaking out made you far more excited than you should be.

So here you were, writing letters to Shoko and Suguru to attend the meeting at all costs after barking Utahime’s ear off to do so as well. You crumpled your parchment up and threw it in a corner for the fifth time.

What were you even supposed to write to friends you’ve grown apart from?

You huffed and began scribbling on fresh parchment once more.

Dear Shoko,

I can already picture you rolling your eyes at this letter. “What is she up to now after not keeping contact for ages?” you’re probably thinking. Well, for once, it’s not mischief, or boy troubles, or even weird investigations cough cough.

It’s been so long since we last saw each other, and I’ve missed you more than words can say. Remember when we used to sneak out of classes just to sit under the old tree and complain about literally everyone? Things have changed so much since then — we’ve changed so much. But I think a part of me still hopes that when I see you, it’ll feel like no time has passed at all.

There’s a clan meeting coming up (ugh, I know), and I heard your clan will be attending. Please tell me you’re coming. I’ll even tolerate your sarcasm if it means we can catch up properly. Bring your flask, too — I have a feeling we’ll need it. Oak tree, Iori Estate, don’t forget.

I can’t wait to see you again. Write back if you have the time, or just show up and surprise me. Either way, I’ll be waiting.

With love and exasperation, Your favourite patient

Good enough, you thought, but Shoko probably won’t even read all of that. Eh well it didn’t matter anyway.

Dear Suguru,

How have you been? Really been? I’ve missed having someone to talk to who actually listens. I’m sure your clan keeps you busy, but I hope you’ve found a moment or two to breathe.

There’s a clan meeting coming up, and I heard the Geto Clan will be attending. Just the thought of seeing you again after all these years makes me... well, nervous, if I’m honest. Not because of anything bad, but because there’s so much I want to say, so much I’ve wanted to ask you.

Do you remember the last time we all sat together, back when things were simpler? I miss that. I miss us. Maybe this meeting will give us a chance to find that again — at least a little.

I hope you’ll be there. No pressure, of course, but if you come, we’ll be waiting under the oak tree out back in the Iori estate. We’d really like to see you.

Take care of yourself, Suguru. And don’t overthink this letter as much as I overthought writing it.

Yours, Your favourite troublemaker

──── ୨ৎ ────

You sat across from Satoru in the carriage to the meeting in silence. His eyes were fixed on the passing scenery outside, but you could tell from the way his fingers fidgeted against his knee that his mind was elsewhere — most likely at the fact that both his mother and father were in another carriage together.

Over the years, their relationship had grown even more strained than it had become on that unfortunate day. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like for either of them to be forced to act like a healthy couple for the sake of a few hours in front of thousands of other people.

“Satoru?” You called softly, and he snapped out of his thoughts.

“Hm?”

You patted his knee. “They’ll be fine.”

He huffed a short laugh, turning his head just enough to glance at you. “You’re too optimistic. What if they explode at each other in the middle of the meeting? Or worse, drag the entire Gojo name through the mud?”

“Then you can just blame me,” you shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. “Say I tripped and caused a distraction, or spilled tea on someone important, or whatever it is that nobles dislike.”

“Oh? And they would believe that? Miss perfect student?” He cracked a small smile.

“I’m not a student anymore,” you stuck your tongue out at him, and he laughed.

“Yeah, but I don’t think that would really improve things.”

“It might. Chaos is a great way to bond people. Just look at us!”

He turned fully to face you now in amusement. “That’s your big plan? Turn the meeting into a comedy night?”

“If it gets you to stop worrying for five seconds, then yes,” you smiled.

He leaned back in his seat, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe. But ridiculous is what you need right now.”

He held your gaze for a moment, the storm in his eyes quieting just a little. “Thanks… for, you know, trying.”

“Trying?” You gasped as if offended. “I excel at this. Just wait — by the end of this night, you’ll owe me for single-handedly saving the Gojo name.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

You tiptoed through the dimly lit corridor, Satoru trailing behind you with his usual cocky grin. He wasn’t exactly stealthy, but he was trying his best, even if his ‘best’ meant occasionally tripping over his own feet and knocking random armours on the way.

“This is dumb,” he whispered to you. “We should just portal her out.”

“No! Tha’ll make it too obvious,” you whisper-shouted. “We’re supposed to be discreet.”

“You’re whispering like a toddler playing hide-and-seek,” he snorted and you shushed him. “That’s the opposite of discreet.”

“Shut up. Now where’s the oak tree?”

“Out?”

“Obviously, genius, but where’s ‘out’?”

“Uhhhh,” he dragged out his response before pointing to a very clear exit. “There? You didn’t see that yet?”

You chose not to dignify that jab with a response, pushing open the door to where Shoko and Suguru were supposed to wait for you as per your letters.

“Fuck, it’s dark in here,” your voice echoed for some reason.

“Careful, princess. Wouldn’t want you to be caught swearing like you’re not from a noble clan,” Satoru snickered, and you wanted to whack him on the head like Utahime had done the other day.

“About time,” a bored voice said, making the two of you jump and turn in horror, staring at the darkness to make out the figures that were inching closer and closer to you. “We thought you chickened out from what you said in the letter.”

“Sh-Shoko?”

“Duh.”

“Shoko!” You ran up to her as she came into the light of the estate, hugging her like your life depended on it. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” she patted your shoulder. “Did you two get lost, or were you off making out in a broom closet or something?”

“What?” You deadpanned. “I haven’t seen you in years, and this is how you greet me?”

Suguru grinned from beside her. “I mean, she’s not entirely wrong,” he gave a light punch on the chest to Satoru. “You’re a little flushed.”

“See?” Satoru smirked. “I told you we should’ve taken the broom closet route. Much more efficient.”

You groaned. “Leave that! Utahime’s stuck in some ridiculous ceremony, and we need a plan to get her out.”

“How bad could it be?” Shoko said. “Light some incense, wave your hands, maybe sacrifice a virgin or two, chant a bit, and she’s done, right?”

“You’ve clearly never been to an Iori ritual,” Suguru replied. “They’re like a cult, but boring.”

“Oh, they’re worse than boring,” said Satoru. “They make you kneel for hours, bowing and chanting. And if you screw up, they start over. It’s like boot camp for spiritualists.”

“Exactly,” you said, sighing. “So, we need a distraction. Something big enough to pull her out but small enough not to get us executed by her clan.”

“I say we fake an emergency,” suggested Suguru. “Like, ‘Oh no, a curse is loose!’ Then she’s got to leave.”

“Too obvious,” Shoko lit a cigarette. “They’ll know it’s fake when Satoru doesn’t stop the ‘curse’ immediately.”

“How about an eating contest?” proposed Satoru, immediately earning an actual punch from Shoko.

“What if we convince them that Utahime has to perform an exorcism somewhere else?” asked Suguru. “Like, say, the riverside.”

You snapped your fingers at his brilliance. “Yes! Perfect! We’ll say her ‘spiritual energy’ is needed for a very urgent ritual. Shoko, you’ll pretend to be an elder. Suguru, you’re the messenger. Satoru, just— stand there and look important.”

“Excuse me? I am always important.”

“Anyway—” Shoko interrupted, taking a long drag. “I bought props just because.” She pulled out her bag and unzipped it. Out came tumbling fake moustaches, eyebrows, caps, cloaks and god knows what.

“What the—” you were stunned. “Why did you get this stuff?”

“Told you, just because,” she shrugged. “It’s a stupid clan union meeting. Thought we’d need some entertainment.”

“Shoko, you’re a genius.”

The four of you tried to find the ritual hall amongst the many rooms of the estate. After bullying a random security guard and having him lead you to the hall, Satoru dramatically banged the door open. The elders of the Iori clan all turned to look at the four of you, and Utahime, who was kneeling in the center surrounded by them, glanced up and immediately put her head back down with curses disguised as a cough.

The air was thick with incense and your eyes were burning. Shoko scratched her fake beard, and stepped forward to speak in a loud, rumbling voice. “Elders of the Iori clan!” She lifted her hands up and flailed her arms around wildly to address them. “There has been a disturbance under your watch,” she thundered, “in the northern woods, of which none can speak.”

“A disturbance?” A grandma squeaked. “What kind, Master Yoo?”

You had no idea who Master Yoo was, but if this plan was working, you didn’t care either.

“It shall remain classified,” Suguru stepped forward slowly with a hunchback and a stick. “None can speak of it without endangering  everyone else.”

“It is the kind,” you bowed to them, “that only the heir of a true princess born to a clan as unique as yours, in the shadow of an oak as old as yours and for a purpose as grave as this may resolve.”

“Us?” An old man exclaimed. “So you have chosen us?”

“Your heir, to be exact,” Suguru clarified.

“Ah, well, then, we shall send the boy—”

“The girl, please,” you deadpanned.

The elders blinked. “Why the girl?”

“Her energy is unique and, uh, mesmerizing,” Shoko boomed, making them fall to their knees. She dramatically walked to the squeaking grandma and grabbed her by both collars of her kimono. “Your heiress has been chosen by the spirits of the longgone.”

“Chosen, you say?” She squeaked in response. “Why wasn’t this revealed earlier?”

Satoru sighed dramatically while you lifted Utahime up. “Do you always question the will of the spirits? No wonder they never bless this place.”

The elders were flustered. They waved Utahime away. She rose stiffly and, still muttering long strings of curses, followed you all out.

Minutes later, the five of you were lounging by the riverside, the cool night breeze rustling the trees. A bottle of sake was being passed between you, the props of earlier long discarded.

“A divine mission? Really?” Utahime was exasperated. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

You laughed, and Shoko said, “Well, it worked, that’s all that matters.”

“You’re welcome by the way,” Satoru grinned. My ‘important face’ is the only thing that made the whole act believable.”

“That’s because you’re aging,” you sighed. “Aging enough to be one of those elders by now.”

“Owie, that hurt.”

“Your face is important for comedy, not authority, Satoru,” said Suguru. Then, he raised his drink. “To divine missions, friendships, and chaos wherever we go.”

“Cheers!”

The moon was still high, and you wondered how long it would take for your clans to realize that all of you were missing from the main event. The air was filled with the faint sounds of laughter and clinking bottles as your friends enjoyed themselves nearby. Satoru, however, had wandered off to the water’s edge. He crouched, plucking smooth stones from the shore and skipping them across the surface with surprising precision.

You hesitated for a moment, then walked over, unable to resist teasing him.

“What’s this?” You asked playfully. “The Gojo Satoru, retreating from the crowd to have a quiet moment with his thoughts? I thought you thrived on attention.”

Satoru did not look back at you. “Oh, I do,” he half-chuckled. “But I also thrive on balance. Can’t be too perfect all the time — it makes people insecure.”

You snorted. “How generous of you to consider the feelings of the peasants.”

He glanced back at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “See? You get it.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re just here to keep the river from feeling too plain without your dazzling presence.”

He laughed, straightening up and brushing his hands on his pants. “Alright, you caught me. I was giving them all a break from my charm. But what’s your excuse? Couldn’t handle the drinking game?”

“More like I couldn’t handle Suguru trying to explain his ‘philosophical approach’ to sake. What did he say again? ‘Is the sake good because you’re dreaming, or are you dreaming because you’re drinking good sake?’ My brain was melting.”

“Fair point. His monologues can be,” he grinned, “intense.”

You stood beside him now, staring out at the water. He tossed another stone, this one skipping three times before sinking. “Is this what you do when no one’s watching? Brood by the river and play with rocks?”

“First of all, it’s called skipping stones, not playing with rocks. Second, brooding? Me? That’s your job.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re the one standing there like the protagonist of a tragic romance novel, sighing at the stars. Very dramatic.”

You nudged his arm, rolling your eyes.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

There was a comfortable silence over both of you. The night felt quieter now, the laughter from the group fading into the background. You shifted, suddenly aware of how close you were standing.

“...You okay?” You asked softly.

He turned to you, his usual grin faltering just slightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. Just feels like there’s something on your mind.”

He held your gaze for a moment, then looked back at the water. “Maybe. But nothing a little stone-skipping and your terrible jokes can’t fix.”

“Terrible?” You grinned. “I’ll have you know I’m the funniest person you love.”

“You’re the only person I love.”

Your smile faded a bit as you looked into his eyes, and he did the same. Suddenly, everything you did was making you feel embarrassed — your breathing, blinking, shaking hands… until he grasped your fingers and put them on his chest.

“Do you feel that?”

Yes.

I feel the love.

You nodded, and he smiled a little. He tipped your chin up to meet your gaze. “How about we ditch the ditching of our super important clan meeting?”

“There’s nothing I wanna do more,” you breathed.

You and Satoru were sneaking back toward the main hall, your laughter still echoing softly as you wiped imaginary dust off his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you slipped on that rock,” you poked your tongue out at him. “All that talk about being graceful—”

“It was one rock, and it was slippery,” he cut you off. “Besides, I saved it. You’re the one who almost fell in the river trying not to laugh.”

“Saved it? You looked like a baby seal trying to ice skate.”

His mock-offended gasp earned another burst of laughter from you. But as you approached the entrance to the meeting hall, your mirth faded. Standing just outside the large carved doors was Satoru’s mother, speaking to a few people. But then she turned around, and her piercing eyes narrowed as they landed on the two of you.

“You two,” she said sharply, and you winced in unison. “How fortunate you both decided to rejoin us.”

“Fortunate?” Satoru was unfazed. “Or just impeccable timing, Mother? You know I always aim to impress.”

“Your absence was noted.” She ignored him completely and turned to look at you. The subtle scrutiny in her eyes made you feel like you’d been caught sneaking sweets from the pantry.

“We just needed some air after all the formalities,” you added hastily.

“Then I trust you’ve had enough of it.”

Without waiting for a reply, Satoru’s mother coolly turned and swept back into the hall. Satoru let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, that was fun.”

Shaking your head, you followed him into the hall. The hum of conversation and clinking glasses immediately engulfed you. The room was grand, the walls lined with banners representing the noble clans in attendance. You recognized faces from the Kamo and Iori clans, along with a handful of others. The two of you slid into unoccupied chairs near the back, just out of your parents’ immediate line of sight.

“Let me guess,” Satoru whispered to you. “Five minutes in here, and you’ll be begging to sneak out again.”

“Ten minutes. I’m trying to behave.”

“You? Behave? That’s new.”

True to his prediction, boredom set in quickly though. The speeches droned on about alliances and tradition, and Satoru began fidgeting. At one point, he caught your eye and mouthed, ‘Let’s go.’

Before you could answer, he grabbed your hand and led you toward the balcony doors. He tugged you through the crowd, weaving around clan leaders and dignitaries with the ease of someone who knew exactly how untouchable they were. You barely managed to stifle a laugh at the old nosy lady he had pushed as he pushed them open and pulled you into the cool night air.

“Satoru — people are watching!”

“Good. They can admire how stunning you look while I steal you away.”

You stood against the railing, the city lights below shimmering like scattered stars, though none of them could light you up like the man in front of you did. Satoru leaned beside you, his elbow brushing against yours.

“Do you ever wonder why they even bother with these meetings? It’s just a bunch of old people pretending they’re still important.”

“Careful,” you smiled. “Those ‘old people’ include your parents.”

“Apologies. Allow me to rephrase: a bunch of old people... and my extraordinarily distinguished parents.”

You laughed softly. “It’s not like you and me here are any better. What is to guarantee that I won’t be bored here?

“Bored? Here, with me? I’m hurt. My company is way more exciting than whatever that was,” he gestured wildly towards the hall. He leaned against the railing, his silver hair catching the moonlight like it was showing itself  off. “And besides, you’re the one who kept looking at me like you wanted to escape. Don’t deny it.”

You crossed your arms, raising a brow. “Oh, I was looking at you? Pretty sure it was the other way around, Gojo.”

His grin widened, his eyes narrowing in mock challenge. “Caught me. Can you blame me, though? You’re kind of hard not to stare at.”

The way he said it — too casual, too confident — made your heart skip a beat. Just like it always would when he was around. Just like always.

“Do you ever get tired of flirting?”

Without missing a beat, he replied, “Do you ever get tired of pretending you don’t like it?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but nothing came out. He tilted his head, watching you with an expression that was both smug and softer than usual. “Speechless? That’s a first. I’ll take it — and your blushing face — as a win. See, you like my balcony adventures!”

You sputtered, trying to deny it, but he only laughed, the sound low and warm in the quiet night.

“Maybe I just like the view.”

“Flirting back now?” said Satoru, and you furrowed your brows at him. “I knew you’d cave eventually.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“Too late now,” he grabbed your hand for a second time that night. “I think I like this better,” he leaned in.

The space between you felt smaller. His voice was quieter as he added, “I meant what I said near the riverside. I always will.”

A hand wrapped around your waist, and you couldn’t care less about the number of people that could walk in on you at this exact moment. You inched closer to him, too shy to ask for what you wanted. But he did so as well, granting you the permission you needed.

You closed your eyes, parting your lips.

A sister.

No, that was a lie.

He loved you.

Your lips brushed against each other’s for half a second before—

“Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You both jumped slightly, and Satoru pulled back, his expression immediately darkening. You turned to see Naoya strolling toward you with his usual smug smile.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” he bowed in front of you, kissing the back of your hand like he owned it. “Care to join me for a dance?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Satoru stepped forward, his hand still lightly brushing your other one. “Actually, we were in the middle of something—”

“I’m sure it can wait. After all, a Zenin doesn’t ask twice.”

You glanced between them, and with a resigned sigh, you forced a polite smile and stepped toward Naoya, your heart sinking as you felt Satoru’s hand fall away.

“...I’ll be back,” you said to Satoru.

His only response was a tight nod. As Naoya led you back inside, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder. Satoru stood there on the balcony, his hands in his pockets, watching as you disappeared into the crowd.

Naoya led you onto the dance floor with confident strides. “You’re light on your feet. A perfect match for me, wouldn’t you agree?”

You bit back a retort, focusing instead on the music and not the way his hand lingered just a little too long on your waist. You still weren’t sure whether the tingling on your hand was because of Naoya’s little kiss or due to Satoru’s touches earlier. And you didn’t get a chance to ponder on it either.

Naoya twirled you out dramatically, and when he pulled you back in, his lips brushed your knuckles in a gesture too showy to be sincere.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Satoru leaning against a pillar stiffly. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. His jaw was tightened as he watched Naoya spin you across the floor.

“Unbelievable,” you read his lips.

But if he had a problem, he’d say something, you thought. Or was he too much of a coward to do so?

Naoya dipped you — dramatically, of course — and you couldn’t miss the way Satoru’s expression darkened, his knuckles whitening as his hands clenched into fists. Finally, he pushed off the pillar, striding toward the two of you.

“Mind if I take over?” He said smoothly. “The lady looks like she’s had enough of your theatrics.”

“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t hear her complaining.”

“You didn’t ask,” you said flatly.

Naoya’s smirk faltered just enough to give you a flicker of satisfaction before Satoru stepped between you. “Thanks for warming her up for me, man.”

Without waiting for a response, Satoru took your hand and placed his other hand on your waist, effortlessly guiding you into the next step.

“Jealous much?” You teased him.

“Jealous? Nah. Just couldn’t stand watching him butcher a perfectly good waltz.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. At first, the dance felt awkward. His hand was just a little too tight on your waist, and your steps were slightly out of sync.

“For someone so full of himself, you’re surprisingly bad at this,” you said.

“Excuse me?” He replied, mock-offended. “I’m amazing at this. You’re just distracted by how good I look.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

But as the music slowed, and the crowd dispersed, his teasing grin softened. His hand on your waist relaxed as his thumb brushed against the fabric of your dress.

“You didn’t answer me earlier.”

That caught you off guard. You looked up, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, the noise of the room faded into the background.

“You didn't ask.”

The corners of his mouth lifted, not in his usual cocky smirk, but in something gentler, more genuine.

“Well, then, I will. Do you still… you know?”

“You know what?”

“Love me like you did?”

Your feet stopped.

Did you?

Or more than that, should you?

“Is it bad if I do?”

“No, not bad at all,” he smiled.

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“Why did you? That day. Why?” You asked him softly the one question you had been dying to ask for three whole years.

“I… Fuck. Naoya, him, I couldn’t—” his hands dropped from your waist, and you flinched a little, moving a few feet back, realizing that your question might have messed your moment up. “Angel—”

“Attention, please,” Naoya clinked a glass loudly. “I have an announcement I’d like to make here.”

The hum of conversation in the room died down as all eyes turned toward him. You and Satoru both turned to look at him.

“This is a moment I’ve been looking forward to all of tonight. All my life, I have wanted nothing more than to serve the woman of my dreams, and tonight, I wish to solidify not only the bonds between our families but also the bond I share with this remarkable woman.”

He turned to you, his smile widening as he reached into his pocket. He strutted towards you. Your blood ran cold as he pulled out a velvet box, dropping to one knee in one fluid motion. Naoya opened the box, revealing a glittering ring) “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, Ms Gojo?”

The room erupted into soft gasps and murmurs of approval, particularly from the Zenin elders. You stood frozen, every pair of eyes in the room drilling into you. All of them, all their stares and expectations felt suffocating.

Your eyes looked at Satoru’s and he seemed like he wanted you to say no. You looked at the elders and they all wanted you to say yes. You looked at your mother, and her eyes were glossy, yet you would take that more than anything else at this moment. Because they didn’t have your answer ready for you in them. They wanted to let you choose. 

“I… I don’t—” you were barely audible. Could everyone just look away from you?

The words stuck in your throat. The weight of Naoya’s proposal, the stares—

“I don’t know.”

The collective murmurs grew louder and confused. For a split second, Naoya’s expression flickered. He looked irritated with your answer. But just as quickly, he smoothed it over, standing and pulling you into a light embrace.

He laughed softly and brushed his lips against your cheek. “She’s overwhelmed. It’s a lot to take in, I understand. These things can’t be rushed, can they?” He turned to the crowd, his tone light and reassuring. “She’s just shy, that’s all. I’ll give her all the time she needs.”

Polite applause broke out, and the pressure in the room became unbearable. Naoya’s hand settled on the small of your back, guiding you toward a quieter corner, and you wanted to wrench it away from your body.

But you couldn’t. Your eyes darted to Satoru. He hadn’t moved. His icy gaze was locked on Naoya, his jaw tense, his entire body screaming for you. And yet, beneath the frustration in his expression, there was something else — something raw and unspoken.

Something you recall seeing in your own eyes.

Three years ago.

You finally cornered Satoru in the training courtyard after quite a while of him dodging your presence for the rest of the night. He was leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, staring at a fountain in the middle of the gardens.

“Satoru.” You stepped closer to him. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

He didn’t even glance at you, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. “I’ve been busy.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. You’ve been avoiding me like I’m some kind of plague.”

Satoru finally turned to you, and said with a bitter laugh, “What do you want me to say? That everything’s fine? That I’m thrilled about everything that’s happening?”

“You could at least tell me the truth! I don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You don’t understand? Fine. Do you know how hard it is for me to see you with him?” His voice cracked slightly, the anger giving way to something new. “To know he gets to touch you? To see you smile at him like that?”

You froze, the weight of his words hitting you like a tidal wave. “Satoru…”

But he didn’t let you finish. He took a step back from you. “You didn’t even reject him. You stood there, and you let him—”

He stopped himself, his voice breaking off. He looked away, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I didn’t know what to do! Everyone was watching, and I—”

“You should’ve said no!” He shouted. The silence that followed was deafening. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to rein in his emotions. Then, he whispered quietly, as if about to cry any second. “You should’ve said no.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

The Gojo estate was eerily quiet as you made your way to Satoru’s mother’s quarters. Your heart pounded in your chest. You knocked softly, and her calm voice invited you inside.

Satoru’s mother was seated by a low table, a cup of tea in hand. She looked up, her eyes softening as she took in your disheveled state. “Darling, what’s the matter?”

You sat across from her, your hands trembling as you tried to form the words. You choked a sob. “Did I make a mistake?”

“Mistake?”

“By not saying no to Naoya right away?”

Her expression didn’t waver, but she leaned forward, placing a comforting hand over yours. “You were caught off guard,” she said gently. “Anyone would’ve been overwhelmed in that situation."

Tears welled in your eyes again, and you shook your head. “But now I’ve hurt Satoru. He… he’s so angry with me. I don’t even know how to fix this.”

She sighed softly, her grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Listen to me, dear. Voicing your uncertainty was not a mistake. It’s far better to be honest about your feelings than to make a choice you might regret.”

You wiped at your tears. Her words were comforting, but they were not enough to ease the ache in your chest.

“But what if I choose wrong? What if I lose everything?”

She stood then, moving to sit beside you. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you, and you took this moment to let it all out. You cried on her shoulder, staining her dress, but she didn’t care. She merely held you and let you cry and scream all you wanted.

“If you choose to marry into the Zenin clan, I won’t stop you. But make sure it’s truly what you want. Not what they want, not what Naoya wants. What you want.” You clung to her, your tears soaking into her sleeve. “As for Satoru…” she smiled faintly. “He’s stubborn, but he’ll come around. He just needs to be reminded that he’s not losing you.”

The school courtyard was quiet that morning. The winter night had forced most of the kids to stay indoors, and the chilly effect of the weather had perhaps drowned out their usual noise. You were lost in thought, replaying the events of the previous evening, when Maki appeared in front of you.

Her stance was confident as always, but her eyes betrayed her. They were rimmed with red, and her face was pale with exhaustion.

“We need to talk.”

“What?”

“I said we need to talk.”

You shrugged and nodded, signalling her to begin speaking.

She took a deep breath in. “Don’t do it. Don’t marry into the Zenin family.” The words came out in a desperate rush.

“Maki, I—”

“You don’t understand. They’ll destroy you. They’ll take everything good about you and crush it until there’s nothing left.”

Her hands were clenched into fists, trembling at her sides. You reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled away.

“I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. The way they treat women, like we’re nothing but tools. They’ll smile to your face and stab you in the back the moment you’re no longer useful.” Her voice cracked, and she stopped, her back to you.

You called her gently. “Maki…”

She turned to face you, tears spilling down her cheeks despite her obvious effort to hold them back. “You’re stronger than me, I know that. But they’ll find a way to break you too. Please… don’t let them.”

The raw emotion in her voice shattered something inside you. You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around her, holding her tightly as she cried into your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Maki,” you whispered to her. “For everything they’ve done to you."

She clung to you for a moment before pulling back, wiping at her tears furiously. “Just promise me you’ll think about it. Don’t let them win.”

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. As you watched her walk away, shoulders hunched against the weight of her past, you couldn’t help but wonder what horrors this brave girl had endured — and what kind of future awaited her if she stayed under the Zenin family’s thumb.

──── ୨ৎ ────

“What the hell are they doing here?” you whisper-screamed to your  mother. Your voice was trembling despite your attempt to sound composed.

The last time the Kamo clan had graced the Gojo estate with their presence, it ended disastrously. More than that, he was here — the face of your nightmares, the man who had haunted your memories for over a decade.

You clenched your hands in your lap, nails biting into your palms as you stared down at the tatami mat, praying for this to be over. But no prayer could save you now. Not when you were practically being forced to bow in front of Kamo Daijiro, the man who had shattered your childhood before it had even begun.

Kamo Daijiro grinned wickedly as he took his seat, his wife Lady Akane and his daughter trailing behind like his shadows. His voice was oily and smug as he broke the silence.

“Ah, the Gojo family. Always full of surprises, aren’t we?” He said mockingly. “First, a marriage proposal with my daughter, Alina, rejected outright by your mother. What a waste of time, huh?”

The room seemed to blur around you. His words faded, replaced by the echoes of the past: the cold stone walls of the basement, the suffocating darkness, the metallic clink of chains binding your wrists.

“Stay quiet,” his voice whispered in your memory. You could feel his hand gripping your arm, dragging you down those steps into hell. Your chest tightened. You blinked rapidly, trying to ground yourself, but his next words yanked you back into the present.

“And now, of course, the Zenin proposal with you.” His gaze landed on you sharply his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. “Two rejected proposals. Not every family is lucky enough to fail so spectacularly, hmm?”

Your heart pounded painfully, the edges of your vision going white. The scars on your fingertips throbbed — perhaps from the rough stones you had used to carve evidences of your torture on the walls of the Kamo estate.

“Sell her,” his voice echoed in your mind. “She’ll fetch a good price.”

The memory hit you like a punch to the gut. You were three years old, crying for your mother, and he was laughing. Laughing as strangers examined you like a product, bartering for your life.

Why did you remember the worst moments of your life?

Satoru’s — no, your mother’s voice broke through the haze. “Speak something sensible or leave, Kamo.” Her words were firm, but you could hear the strain in her voice. She was trying to protect you, but she seemed to realize that even she couldn’t erase the ghosts of the past from your mind.

Kamo Daijiro tilted his head, feigning politeness as he bowed slightly. “Ah, but you should be made aware of what you’ve caused, Lady Gojo. Two lives ruined because of a stupid fantasy between your kids.”

“Enough, Daijiro,” said Satoru’s father.

You blinked, startled by the unexpected intervention. Satoru’s father rarely spoke, let alone in defense of his family. Wasn’t he the one hellbent on getting Satoru married just a few years ago? Perhaps his time in isolation in his room made him realize his mistake. 

“Let me remind you that the Gojo family does not bend to the whims of the Kamo Clan. We never have and never will. So whatever you think, we do not care. Yet you cannot stand here under our roof and speak that way about us, Kamo. Leave.”

Daijiro’s smirk faltered,. The confidence in his posture waned for a fraction of a second. But that moment was enough for you to breathe again. Your mother’s hand slipped over yours under the table, grounding you back to reality, your present away from the horrors of your past.

As Daijiro stood to leave, he glanced at you one last time. His eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction.

“You’ll never escape me, little one.”

Beat.

Did he know?

The Kamo family took their leave, but one pair of eyes lingered. Kamo Alina.

She hadn’t said a word throughout her father’s tirade, but now her gaze bore into you, there was something haunted in her expression, something that wasn’t there three years ago when she had tried to charm Satoru out from under your nose.

You didn’t trust it one bit.

You found yourself alone in the garden after the fiasco from earlier. The crisp air nipped at your skin, but it wasn’t enough to shake the phantom memories of The Kamos’ voices echoing in your mind.

A soft rustle behind you made you turn. Alina stood there, her posture hesitant. That was new — gone was the confident, smug girl who used to mock you mercilessly as a child.

“You don’t have the Gojo surname.”

It wasn’t a question. Her tone was quiet, almost confused.

You stiffened, your fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeves. “Why does it matter?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she stepped closer, her hands wringing nervously. “It’s just... strange. You’ve lived with them for so long, haven’t you? And you were even engaged to… you know. Shouldn’t you have their name by now?”

The words cut deeper than you expected. You knew why you didn’t have their name. Why Lady Gojo had never officially adopted you despite raising you like her own. Because your past was a stain that no amount of time could wash away, and your future a fate you wanted to live.

But you didn’t say that. Not to Alina. Not to anyone.

Instead, you crossed your arms, forcing a smirk. “Why do you care? Planning to make fun of me again, like when we were kids?”

Her expression faltered, and for the first time, you saw something genuine in her eyes. Regret. “I…” she paused. “I’m not here to make fun of you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by her tone. It wasn’t what you expected, and that unsettled you more than anything else.

“I just... I don’t understand. Why aren’t you proud to be a Gojo? To have a family like that?”

Because I’m not one of them.

Not yet, anyway, a voice in your head hoped.

But you didn’t say that either. Instead, you looked away, your voice colder than you intended. “You wouldn’t understand.”

She flinched like you had just yelled at her, and her hands dropped to her sides.

Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that she might understand, more than you gave her credit for. Because for all her faults, she wasn’t Kamo Daijiro. Or Kamo Akane. Or those auctioners. She wasn’t the one who had abandoned you, sold you off, abused you like you were a piece of meat.

And then it hit you. The thought that had been nagging at the back of your mind ever since you saw her face.

Kamo Akane’s daughter. That was who Alina was. Which made her...

Your half-sister.

The realization made your stomach drop. Your eyes widened at nothing in particular, and your fingers began shaking.

Sister?

All this time, you never gave a thought about it. But it was so obvious, so clear.

Your blood.

The Kamo blood.

You gulped. No, never. Never the Kamo blood. You didn’t want to be associated with the Kamo clan, not in any way.

“I guess you won’t tell me, will you?” Her voice broke the silence, and you glanced back at her. There was no malice in her expression, no smugness, just confusion.

“No. I won’t,” you responded firmly.

She nodded slowly, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Maybe I deserve that.”

She turned to leave, and for a moment, you almost stopped her.

Almost.

The Gojo estate was unusually quiet that week since the chaos of the Kamo family’s visit was finally behind you. Yet, you couldn’t sleep at all at night. So you did what you always do. You wandered the halls aimlessly, walking from door to door in search of sleep.

You paused outside the study, hearing low voices.

“...I know I failed you, Satoru.”

Your breath caught. That was Satoru’s father.

“I was so focused on the family, on tradition,” his father continued with regret. “I thought I was protecting you, ensuring our legacy would thrive. But all I did was push you toward a life you didn’t want. A life you didn’t deserve.”

Satoru’s response was softer than usual. “You didn’t just push me — you forced my hand. That engagement with Alina... I didn’t even have a say.”

There was a heavy silence.

“I know,” his father finally admitted. “And when your mother stood there and defied me... I hated myself for it. Because deep down, I knew she was right.”

You inched closer to the door. You know you shouldn’t be eavesdropping on this intimate conversation between a father and a son, but you knew you would have stayed awake for a couple more hours if you didn’t hear this completely.

His father sighed with a sound that was weary and old. “I wanted to say this to you for a long time. I’m proud of you, Satoru. Not because of what you are, but because of who you are. Strong, stubborn, and a lot like your mother.”

There was a soft chuckle from Satoru, tinged with disbelief. “Like mother? That’s a first.”

His father continued. “I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness. But I want you to know, I’ll never stand in your way again. Whatever you choose for yourself, for your future... I’ll support it.”

You could hear the emotion in Satoru’s voice, even as he tried to hide it. “That’s all I ever wanted, Dad.”

Another pause, this one heavy with unspoken words.

“I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out,” his father admitted.

There was the faint sound of movement, and you imagined Satoru standing. “Thanks, old man.”

You pushed open the door to Satoru’s room a few minutes later. You didn’t expect him to be present there, obviously. He might still be with his father, and you didn’t wish to eavesdrop on their conversation anymore.

Satoru’s room was empty, eerily quiet. His desk was tidy, his bed neatly made. Everything was in its place, except him. You sighed, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

For days, the memory of his half-finished confession had haunted you. The way he’d almost spoken, almost revealed just why he had told you those harsh words all those years ago. Almost. Before Naoya cut him off, of course. Why did he do that? Why did he say that? Why had he pushed you away? You clenched your fists, planning to stay there and wait all night if you had to, just to get the answers of those questions that had haunted you all this time.

The sound of the door creaking open jolted you from your thoughts. Relief flooded you, only to freeze when you realized it wasn’t Satoru standing there.

“Who are you?” You immediately asked.

It was a young woman. She was dressed as if she was a servant of the Gojo clan, but you didn’t recognize her.

“I–It’s me, Princess!”

“Tomoko?” you asked, frowning at the maid’s pale, trembling figure. “From the Kamo clan?” Your eyes widened in realization. “What are you doing here?”

“I... I need to tell you something, Princess,” she stammered. Her eyes darted nervously around the room. Her fingers fidgeted with each other. She couldn’t even look you in the eye. What was she hiding? Why was she here anyway? Something was wrong — terribly wrong.

“What is it?” you asked cautiously, standing up.

Tomoko wrung her hands, tears brimming in her eyes. “I... I poisoned Gojo-sama,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Your father, your highness.”

“What?” The word burst from you like a gunshot. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Tomoko flinched, but she continued, her voice shaking. “I didn’t want to do it. I swear on your greatness, Princess! But I was ordered to — by my clan… The Kamo clan.”

The Kamo clan?

Of course, it’s them.

It’s always them.

Your knees felt weak, and you stumbled, grabbing the bedpost for support. “What poison? How long — how long does he have?”

“It’s a rare poison,” Tomoko said, her voice cracking. “They got it from somewhere and had me— had me seal it in his wine. There is no cure. He has days left. A week, at most, Princess.”

The room spun, and anger surged through you. “You poisoned him, and you’re only telling me now?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Tomoko wailed, falling to her knees. “They threatened my family. And— and me too! If I didn’t do it, they said they’d kill us. I— I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Your voice rose, trembling with fury. “Oh, you’re sorry? And what the fuck do you expect me to say?” She gasped at your choice of words. “You expect me to forgive you for poisoning someone? For poisoning my fucking father?”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” she sobbed, her hands clutching at her chest. “Please, I can’t live with this guilt.”

You stared at her, your hands shaking, your mind racing. Satoru’s father, the man who had finally begun to reconcile with his son, finally, finally begun to relive and make up for all the wasted time, was dying.

And the Kamo clan was behind it.

They had already torn your life apart when you were a child. And now they were doing it again.

Why couldn’t they just leave you alone?

“Get out,” you said, your voice low trembling with barely contained rage.

Tomoko looked up at you, startled. “But—”

“Get out,” you repeated, louder this time. “And don’t ever show your face here again.”

“Please, I—”

“Leave!” you screamed, your voice breaking. “You will only get killed here — by my soldiers or by my hands!”

Tomoko scrambled to her feet, stumbling toward the door. She hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to say something else, but the fury in your eyes made her think better of it. She fled the room. The door slammed shut behind her.

For a moment, you just stood there, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Then, slowly, you sank onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not until you figured out what to do.

Because another piece of your newfound life was tearing, and no amount of rage or despair could change that.

──── ୨ৎ ────

Ever since that night, you had been hoping, praying even, that whatever Tomoko had said that day was false. That your father was perfectly healthy, and he’d live a long life. But Satoru noticed how his father would stumble on his steps at times. Your mother noticed her husband’s loss of appetite. And overtime, as this worsened, you couldn’t deny it anymore.

Your father was dying.

And that was going to break you.

You hadn’t spoken a word about it to anyone. You should, you knew that. But how? Mother was always too busy fussing over him. Satoru had been avoiding you since that night with Naoya. How were you supposed to say a word?

The hallway outside Satoru’s parents’ room was dimly lit. They had begun sharing rooms again, and you wanted to be happy for them. But this would only go on for about five days longer, you thought ominously. You stood awkwardly near the door, waiting for your mother to emerge. Inside, you could hear her fussing over her husband tenderly.

“Stay in bed, please. The tea is still warm — I’ll bring it to you.” “I’m fine, love,” he replied weakly. “You’re the one who needs rest.”

There was a muffled sound of her setting something on a table, and then footsteps. she opened the door, stepping out into the hallway. She startled slightly at the sight of you, but her face quickly softened when she realized it was you.

“Are you waiting for Satoru? He’s not back yet,” she said, smoothing her sleeves. “No, I—” Your throat felt tight, and you took a moment to gather your courage. “Mother, I need to tell you something.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly in concern, and she gestured for you to follow her into the small sitting room across the hall. She sat gracefully, folding her hands in her lap. You tumbled into your seat, taking a deep breath.

“It’s about Father,” you begin hesitantly.

“What about him?”

“I… I know what happened to him,” you said cryptically. She raised an eyebrow at you, gesturing for you to continue. “One of the Kamo maids, Tomoko… She stayed back after the leaders had left and disguised herself as one of ours. And she told me. That she had poiso—”

“Enough,” she held up a hand to stop you, and you flinched. For a moment, her expression didn’t change. Then she closed her eyes and let out a long, quiet sigh. “I know,” she said softly.

The admission took you aback. “You... you know?”

She nodded, her fingers tightening briefly around the fabric of her kimono. “He told me as soon as he realized. In the past two days, we’ve consulted every healer, every remedy. There’s nothing… nothing that can be done now.” Her voice trembled just slightly, and she pressed her lips together to steady herself.

“Mother,” you whisper.

She waved a hand dismissively, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I should apologize to you for allowing the Kamo clan to enter our lives. I couldn’t protect my family as I should have. I’m a terrible mother.”

You shook your head vehemently. “You’re the best. The best mother and the best leader. And everything else you are.”

“Thank you, darling.” You could see the strain in the smile she gave you, and she looked older in the candlelight.

“But what do we do now?”

Lady Gojo exhaled, leaning back slightly. “Now, my only concern is making his last days as peaceful as possible. If Satoru were to find out...” Her voice broke for a moment, and she looked away as if to compose herself. “It would destroy him,” she continued. “He’s been through too much already. I won’t let this pain touch him — not yet.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat at her last words. “What can I do?”

She smiled faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. “Just be there for him. When the time comes, he’ll need you more than ever.”

You were pacing outside the garden. Every step crunched against the gravel path. Your thoughts were swirling with your mother’s confession, and her desire to keep it a secret from Satoru. But the last time you had kept something a secret from him, it had resulted in the loss of three years from your life. You couldn’t let that happen again.

But could you disobey your mother? So you had been doing the best thing you could possibly do in that situation — avoiding Satoru all day. But apparently, that wasn’t enough.

“Hey,” his voice startled you as he appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “What’s going on with you?”

You whirled around, clutching your chest. “W-What do you mean?”

He squinted at you, crossing his arms. “This!” He said, as if that explained everything. “You’ve been acting weird. Stuttering, avoiding eye contact, mumbling when you talk to me. That’s not like you at all.”

You forced out a laugh, waving your hand dismissively. “Oh, come on. You’re imagining things.”

Satoru took a step closer. “Don’t lie to me.”

You panicked and shouted. “I’m not lying!”

He narrowed his eyes in frustration. “You can’t even say that without stuttering.” Then he sighed. “Alright, tell me. What’s going on?”

“If you think of me as your sister were all the moments we spent together false or am I overthinking?” You blurted out.

Satoru froze, caught off guard. For a moment, the only sound between the two of you was the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze.

“What?”

“Three years ago,” you pressed, your voice trembling slightly. “At the Kamo meeting. You called me your sister after they had brought up—”

“I know what I said,” he cut you off, his jaw tightening. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Then… why?” you whispered, stepping closer. “Why would you say that? Why would you—”

“Naoya,” he spat venomously.

You blinked, utterly confused. “Naoya?”

He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “That bastard. He...” Satoru trailed off, his expression darkening.

“What about Naoya?”

Satoru hesitated, as if weighing whether or not to tell you. Finally, he exhaled sharply. “He said... things. About you. About what he’d… do to you if we, you know, got closer to each other. And I couldn’t let that happen. He was older, definitely experienced and all of that. I didn’t feel like the strongest anymore when I saw him say that.”

Your breath caught, and a cold chill ran down your spine. “Satoru. When did this happen? What did he say to you?”

“Don’t make me say it,” he snapped, but his anger seemed to be directed more towards Naoya than at you. “It happened right around the time you got detention, I still remember. He had told me he didn’t like how we were with each other. And how I was nothing, pathetic. How I could never protect you from… from him. And he had struck a deal with me that day — that he would stop it all if I was able to convince everyone that we couldn’t... that we didn’t...”

“That we didn’t what?” you whispered.

Satoru met your gaze with guilt. “That we didn’t belong together. That you were like a sister to me.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. But he continued.

“And then that day I had found out we were engaged. I was so happy, but also devastated. If that guy didn’t like us then, how would he like it if we got married? So I tried to stop it. Tried to break your heart. Like a coward. Like a fool.”

“Stop it!” You staggered back. “You’re not a coward!”

“Yes I am,” he shook his head. “You don’t understand. I got scared. He was older than me. He knew more. What if he whipped out some charm I didn’t recognize and killed you or something? I’d never be able to forgive myself. Not that I can now either.”

“Satoru—”

“I didn’t deserve the tears you spent on me that time. I didn’t deserve to see you break down. All those times your eyes would brim, my heart would claw at me to stop itself.”

“You don’t mean—” Your eyes widened, and he merely nodded, not looking at you at all.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he said quietly, his shoulders slumping. “But it doesn’t matter now. None of it matters now.”

──── ୨ৎ ────

Satoru’s father’s funeral was held on a chilly afternoon. The air was thick with unspoken grief. The Gojo estate, usually buzzing with life, was eerily quiet. Even the wind seemed reluctant to disturb the solemn atmosphere. The bare branches of trees trembled like fragile fingers.

A sea of black-clad mourners gathered, their heads bowed in respect, but it all felt hollow to you. Each condolence, every whispered prayer, was a reminder of the man who was no longer here, and you couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt in your chest.

You stood off to the side, your hands clasped tightly in front of you, staring at the pristine white casket adorned with lilies. The sight blurred as tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them away, unwilling to cry in front of so many people. Your grief felt undeserved, selfish even, given the weight of your secret.

You had known about the poison. You knew about the slow and inevitable death of Satoru’s father. You knew, yet you had done nothing, just let it all happen. Could you have stopped it? Could you have saved him? The questions circled in your mind like vultures.

Satoru stood at the front, his back straight. His face seemed like it had been carved from stone. The usual spark in his eyes was gone. It was replaced by a cold emptiness that made your stomach churn. He hadn’t cried, not even once, as far as you knew. You wished he would. You wished that he would let himself grieve, scream, do anything to release the agony he must be feeling. But he was silent, like a statue among the living, and it broke your heart.

The ceremony dragged on. Each passing moment felt heavier than the last. When it finally ended, the crowd began to disperse, murmuring their condolences to Satoru’s mother, who stood like a ghost beside her son. You watched her, too, feeling a pang of sadness at how frail she seemed. 

You wanted to approach Satoru, to say something, anything. But your feet felt rooted to the ground. What could you possibly say that wouldn’t sound as numb as you were feeling? The guilt in your chest tightened its grip, and you turned away, unable to face him.

Back at the estate, the house felt colder than ever. Dinner was a silent affair, just as it had been a few months ago. Because just as the lively chatter had begun to replace the clinking of utensils and the occasional sniffle, it had been snatched away from you.

Satoru’s mother tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy, asking if anyone needed seconds or more tea, but her voice was brittle, and no one answered her with more than a shake of their head. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat, pushing the food around on your plate as you stole glances at Satoru.

He sat across from you, staring blankly at his untouched meal. The shadows under his eyes were darker than ever, and his usually flawless posture was slightly slouched. It was as if the weight of his father’s death had physically pressed down on him. You wanted to reach out, to say something, but the words died in your throat. Instead, you watched in silence as he eventually stood, his chair scraping against the floor, and left the room without a word.

You couldn’t sleep that night. The house was too quiet, the kind of quiet that made every creak of the floorboards and every whisper of the wind feel deafening. You found yourself wandering the halls, your feet carrying you to the room that had once belonged to Satoru’s father. It was untouched, as if he might walk back in at any moment. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, and it made your chest ache.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the emptiness, tears streaming down your face. “I’m so, so sorry.”

The days following the funeral were no easier. The once lively Gojo household felt like a mausoleum. Meals were eaten in near silence, and the air was heavy with unspoken grief. You found yourself avoiding Satoru more and more, not because you didn’t want to comfort him, but because you didn’t know how.

One evening, you found yourself in the library, hoping to distract yourself with a book. But the words on the page blurred together, and you couldn’t focus. The guilt was a constant, gnawing presence, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake it. The image of Satoru’s father lying in his coffin haunted you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if you had acted sooner.

“What are you doing in here?”

You jumped, the book slipping from your hands as you turned to see Satoru standing in the doorway. His hair was slightly disheveled, and his expression was unreadable. You quickly wiped at your eyes, hoping he hadn’t noticed the tears.

“I just needed some quiet,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He walked into the room, his footsteps soft against the carpet. He picked up the book you had dropped, glancing at the cover before handing it back to you. “Mother’s calling you,” he said, his tone carefully neutral.

“For?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Dinner,” he said bluntly. “You haven’t been eating at all.”

You nodded, and he stood up and left without saying another word.

Dinner that night was a solemn affair. The dining room was heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional clinking of chopsticks against plates. Satoru’s face was blank, his appetite long gone. His mother sat at the head of the table. Her posture was perfectly composed. You sat beside her, feeling like an interloper in this world of quiet mourning. A seat was left empty, for whom, you didn’t have to guess.

The ache in your chest was unbearable, but guilt magnified it tenfold. You had been the one to discover the truth, the one who knew about the poison before anyone else. And yet, you had done nothing.

A soft knock on the door broke the oppressive quiet. One of the maids entered, bowing deeply as she held out a folded piece of paper. “Lady Gojo—” she glanced at her, unsure of how to approach her in her desensitized state — “we found this while cleaning the late master’s study. It’s addressed to you, Princess,” she bowed to you.

The maid extended the letter to you, and you accepted it hesitantly. Your heart immediately sank at the sight of your name scrawled in bold, deliberate handwriting. Satoru’s mother nodded at the maid to dismiss her, then at you.

“Read it,” she said softly. “Whatever he’s written, it’s meant for you to hear.”

You unfolded the paper carefully, your hands shaking as you smoothed it out. The opening lines confirmed your suspicion.

“To my dearest child,

If you are reading this, then it means I am no longer among the living. There are matters I could not speak of while alive, and so I leave them here, trusting you to read with an open heart.”

Your voice wavered as you read aloud. Satoru and his mother both watched you intently. 

“In my absence, I leave behind all that I have built, not as burdens, but as tools for you to continue shaping our legacy.

To my wife, the pillar of my strength, I entrust our estate and all its affairs. She has always been my compass, and I know she will guide our family with the same wisdom and grace she has always shown. To my son, Satoru, I leave my knowledge, my pride, and my unwavering belief in your potential. He is destined for greatness, and though I may not be there to see it, I know he will honor the Gojo name with dignity and strength. So I shall also leave our ancestral blade, a symbol of our family’s strength and honor, along with the records of our techniques and histories.”

To you, my dear daughter, I bequeath the east wing of the estate, yours to claim as a sanctuary and a symbol of your place among us. Furthermore, I leave a yearly stipend from the family’s accounts, ensuring you will always have the means to build a life of stability and comfort.”

But then your voice caught, the words ahead freezing in your throat.

The second paragraph shifted abruptly, no longer a formal testament but a recounting of events that made your blood run cold.

“The past few years I had spent alone were ones spent to find the roots of your journey home, here. I know the pain you carry, and the secrets you keep. I know how you came into this world. Kamo Akane, your mother—”

You stopped reading it aloud, and instead your eyes began darting back and forth the lines as you read it in your head.

Kamo Akane, your mother, made the impossible choice to keep you despite everything she endured. She bore you with strength, but her circumstances were cruel. Kamo Daijiro never accepted you, and he made sure she couldn’t either. When you were only three years old, they both agreed to sell you to the traders of Mizuho.

Your breath hitched. The paper in your hands crinkled as your grip tightened. You couldn’t read further. The memories you had buried deep threatened to overwhelm you. The cold basement. The chains. The voices. The pain.

“What is it?” Satoru asked with concern. “Why did you stop?”

You shook your head, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing.”

“That’s a lie,” he said flatly.

You tried to fold the letter, to hide it away, but your trembling hands betrayed you. Satoru reached out, his fingers brushing against yours as he snatched the paper. “If you won’t read it, I will.”

“No!” you protested, but it was too late. His eyes scanned the words quickly, his expression darkening with each passing second. He reached the part about the traders, and his jaw clenched. His hands shook, but he didn’t stop until he reached the final lines.

I knew about the poison. I knew what the Kamo clan had done to me. But this is not a burden you should carry. You have suffered enough, and I do not want you to feel guilt for something beyond your control.

And Satoru.

Satoru’s eyes flicked to you briefly before continuing.

I know you’re reading this as well. You won’t listen even if I told you this letter is meant for her alone. Satoru, please do not fight.

But the word “fight” was blotched with ink. A tear had smudged the letters. Satoru’s hand hovered over the page, and you realized with a sinking heart that the tear was his own.

He folded the letter carefully, setting it down on the table. His movements were unnaturally calm, but you knew better. The storm was brewing.

“Satoru,” you said hesitantly. “Please don’t—”

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Mother.” His voice was tight, barely restrained. “May I have your permission?”

“Satoru!”

Satoru’s mother regarded him for a long moment. Her gaze flicked to you, then back to her son. Finally, she nodded. “Do what you must. But remember, no harm is to come to the Gojo clan’s reputation.”

He bowed deeply, his fists clenched at his sides. “Thank you.”

“What?” You stood, panic rising. “You can’t just let him go! This isn’t—”

Satoru’s mother silenced you with a look. “He deserves his revenge.”

You stared at her, incredulous. “Revenge won’t bring him back! It won’t fix anything!”

Satoru didn’t wait to hear more. He left the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall. You called after him, your voice breaking, but he didn’t look back. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you and his mother alone in suffocating silence.

“How can you…?” you began, your voice trembling with anger and disbelief. “How can you let him do this?”

Her expression softened, but her resolve remained. “Because I know my son. And I know he won’t find peace until he has faced this head-on.”

You sank back into your chair, your hands clutching at your chest as though to hold your breaking heart together. The letter lay between you and Lady Gojo, as if to remind you of everything you had both lost and everything that was yet to come.

──── ୨ৎ ────

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© chuulyssa 2025 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

siriusblackrunmeover17 dr3amingc0rpse theclassbookworm lady-of-blossoms ermbehindyou lemonfreak97-blog bunheadusa starlightglimmersworld dahliawarner ssetsuka st4rpearl annie19mac starmycar luvsymai calypsothegoddess lov3vivian ourfavvvkim eunseokzz lovelymaryj-recs shuastar multi-fandom-fanfic gojosoups

[kusanagi-haruno]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ NIGHTS LIKE THIS !

ఌ sum: Ever since Gojo saw you, he’s been nothing but love struck. And as time passes, you find yourself feeling the same.

wc: 3.2K

Warnings: Fem!reader, Gojo is basically obsessed with you, Uni AU, Modern AU, Eventual smut, Porn w plot, Making out, Oral (F receiving), P in V sex, Light choking, Praising, Pet names: Pretty girl, beautiful, sweet girl.

a/n: originally this was written for my friend with a different character, but I decided to change it to gojo so I can post it here for you lovelies :)!!!!

Lovestruck Gojo! who forgot how to breathe when he first saw you enter the lecture the first day. His eyes raked over your form, taking in every detail from when you first entered through the door to when you sat down. He bit the inside of his cheek when he saw you sit a few rows in front of him. He ignored the stinging pain that followed after biting the wall of his mouth, too entranced by you to even care.

Lovestruck Gojo! who grew more frustrated as the weeks passed. He cursed his inability to go up to you and just talk. The way your lips seemed to shine every time he looked at them, how the outsides of your eyes creased when you smiled just made him so nervous.

Lovestruck Gojo! who swears his prayers finally have been answered when you two were paired up for a project. He sat up a little bit straighter when the professor announced your name next to his. He swore the sun shined a little bit brighter that day.

Lovestruck Gojo! who’s heart raced when he noticed you make your way towards him at the end of the lecture. He pretended not to notice you, which was hard because he knows he’s noticed just about everything you had to offer. His heart raced when he heard your voice speak to him, in his head was a million thoughts scrambling through his mind.

Lovestruck Gojo! who’s voice cracked when he spoke his first words to you. “I’m sorry?” He questioned when he realized he didn’t respond to you. “Want to exchange contacts? It’ll be easier to keep in touch this way,” he heard you ask. It felt like his breath got caught in his throat, the softness, the perfection of your voice paralyzed him. He knew he had to answer this time, he had to make a good first impression.

Lovestruck Gojo! who hurriedly agreed to give you his number. After that brief conversation, he watched you walk away. He swore his heart would jump out of his chest any moment now, however he wouldn’t even be mad, not when the reason his heart was beating was because of you.

Lovestruck Gojo! who swears he’s on cloud nine. Ever since the both of you have been partnered up for that project, the both of you have slowly gotten closer and closer. Everyday he would wake up with one thought in his mind, you. When he got ready for your guys’ daily meet up to slowly progress on the project, he made sure to look his very best. He always double checked to see if his hair was laid correctly, that his teeth looked white as ever, and that his clothes smelled perfect.

Lovestruck Gojo! who silently congratulated himself every time he made you laugh. Sometimes you would catch him staring, but you found yourself not being bothered by it one bit. You couldn’t deny that you undoubtedly caught feelings for the man in front of you during the time you guys spent together. You found yourself blushing everytime he remembered your coffee order, even more so when he paid for it everytime.

Lovestruck Gojo! who felt like his world was destroyed when the project came to an end. He should’ve felt any form of happiness, but he couldn’t. Not when he had no excuse to see you anymore. When he rolled over in his bed, he felt like sinking into it just to never come out again.

Lovestruck Gojo! who groaned when he heard his phone buzz signaling he got a notification. He silently debated on ignoring it, almost positive it was a random notification from a random app. Although he twisted and turned, soon facing his phone on the nightstand beside him with a small hope that maybe, maybe, you texted him.

Lovestruck Gojo! whose heart went from 0 to 100 the moment he saw it was you who texted him. He immediately opened the notification and read your text, he smiled so hard that it hurt. “Party tn, wanna come? We can let loose a little as a little celebration for finishing that stupid project :).”

Lovestruck Gojo! who never got ready so fast in his life before. He made sure to reply to your text before doing so, he’d rather die than have you think he purposefully ignored you.

Lovestruck Gojo! who had no idea just how fast your heart was beating. Your friends pressured you into texting him, knowing just how much you liked him. You didn’t know whether to curse them out or hug them, but the thought diminished as soon as you saw he replied to you, agreeing to come.

Lovestruck Gojo! who felt the same as he first did the very first second he saw you when he saw you tonight, in front of him. He clenched his fists when he took note just how many other men were in the same building as you, almost hard enough to draw blood. All negative feelings vanished when he locked eyes with you, and instead new ones blossomed. He took note how you styled your hair, and wore a little more makeup than usual. His eyebrows furrowed when he thought that you wanted to look good for somebody else.

Lovestruck Gojo! who slowly lost himself in your eyes. The both of you agreed to dance with each other, mirroring each other's smiles. He lost track of time, not that he cared though. The only thing he cared about was the feeling of your arms around his neck, your eyes looking right at him and fuck the glossiness of your lips. Everything about you was perfect, and he wanted to kill every man who looked at you tonight.

Lovestruck Gojo! whose body felt like it was on fire right now. He doesn’t know who leaned first, but he couldn’t give a fuck about that. Not when the feeling over your soft, plushy lips against his sent his mind, body, and soul to heaven and back. He could only focus on the small, shaky breaths that escaped your lips when he sucked particularly hard, and fuck he loved it more than he should. What’s new though, he always loved you way more than the normal amount.

Lovestruck Gojo! who almost whined when you finally broke the kiss, but what you said after instantly made up for it. “Wanna get out of here?” He didn’t know how a person could be so fucking adorable, but you break his expectations everyday.

His silently nodded, little pants escape his lips as you take his hand and lead him out of the party.

As soon as the two of you barely make it to your dorm, you’re pushed up against the door. You let out a gasp when your head meets the firmness of your dorm door, but quickly the pain turns into pleasure when he takes the opportunity of your opened mouth to slide his tongue into your mouth.

You feel his hands touch every part of your body, trying to memorize every part of you. You hear him chuckle against your lips when you let out soft whines when he touches a particularly sensitive spot, and fuck did that make you wet.

“Such a fucking pretty girl,” he mumbles into your mouth. You let out a whine at the praise, your hands resting against his firm chest. His hands rest on your hips, squeezing them whenever he finds himself feeling too much of everything.

He often found himself denying that you were real, but you were here, under his touch, kissing him. Him, of all people. If he told his past self that he’d up like this with you, his past self would laugh, or faint, either or.

You find yourself slowly backing up until you hit your bed with him looming over you. The both of you take a second to just look at each other, a million things spoken with just one look. Both of your eyes gazing at each other full of lust and love before leaning back into each other with more passion than before.

“G-Gojo..fuck,” you moan out as you arch your back. The man on top of you started to slowly roll his hips against yours, the feeling making pleasure flow through the entirety of your body, no area left untouched. “I- ah..I know baby I know”, he coos, feeling the same if not more.

You feel his big hands tug at your shirt, a silent demand to take it off, and you do with no hesitation. Gojo is awestruck, absolutely entranced with how beautiful you look. Every part of you is absolutely perfect, fuck he feels like the luckiest man alive right now.

He detaches his lips from yours, a small string of spit hangs between the both of you. His hands move from the side of your face to your chest, then slowly down to your hips before resting on the side of your stomach. He leaves soft kisses against different areas of your stomach as his hands roam your torso, silently worshiping your body.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful,” he praises, his thumbs stroking the sides of your torso. You let out soft airy breaths in response to his delicate touches, each kiss igniting a small flame in the same area he kissed you.

When he finally makes your way down to your waist, he looks up at you, silently asking for permission. You give him a slight nod and lift your hips to help him remove your pants. Once Gojo throws your bottoms on the floor somewhere you start to get flustered. Almost your whole body is exposed while he’s still fully dressed. Guess you’re going to have to change that.

You softly call out his name, to which he answers with a small hum. His face is near your clothed pussy, so when he hummed you felt every little bit of it. You subconsciously opened your legs to the feeling of pleasure that sparked through your body as, and let out a squeak when he places a small kiss to your clothed pussy.

“Gojo..” you whine. “Y-you’re still dressed,” you pant out. You feel him chuckle from in between your legs and you let out another small moan in response. “Aww, is my poor baby embarrassed?” He mocks, a small smirk gracing his features.

“N-no..” You mumble with a small pout, but the both of you know otherwise. Gojo quickly rids of his shirt and leans down to give you a quick peck before moving down to your pussy.

You feel your panties are wet, and he sees that they’re wet, and you should feel embarrassed but you don’t.

Gojo tears off your panties and before you can complain, he licks a long stripe from your pussy to your clit. You buck up in response to which his hands fly to your hips to hold them down. After that he makes quick work of making a mess out of you.

You release moan after moan when he repeatedly laps your clit, showing no sign of stopping. The lewd noises of your wet squelches and his sucking fill the room, along with your whimpers and his groans.

As he eats you out the small praises he drunkenly says are lost on your ears. The only thing you can focus on, can even comprehend, was the feeling of his tongue against your wet pussy and oh, the finger he slipped in your poor little pussy.

“Such a good fucking girl, taking me so well,” he praises when he sees you take his finger with no struggle. When your legs twitch he knows you're close and speeds up the thrusting of his one finger and the speed of his tongue against your clit.

“Ah, ah fuck! G-Gojo,” you scream out, so close, just one more second and…

You let out a sob when you feel his finger quickly slip out of your sobbing pussy, and the feeling of his tongue no longer working on your clit. You could almost cry at the lost orgasm.

“Y-you’re so mean,” you sniffle out. “Can’t have you cummin yet baby,” he says shakily. His breaths come out in pants, his thoughts all over the place but the only constant is you.

He leaves a trail of kisses along the inside of your thigh, sucking on them every few kisses. He mumbles soft praises in between, “You're so beautiful, my pretty girl, doing so well.”

When he decides your thighs are littered with enough marks, he moves up your body coming face to face with you. His two fingers prod at your mouth, silently telling you to open your mouth. You obey, your tongue swirling around his thick fingers, tears threatening to spill your eyes.

While you’re working on his two fingers he took the liberty of slowly rolling his hips against yours. He kisses your cheek when he removes his fingers from your mouth, and slowly trails them along your body till he reaches your pussy.

The both of your lips connect when he slowly drags his fingers lightly down your body till they stop at your entrance. He coaxes you to breathe, staring into your eyes as he teases your clit.

He starts to pump his fingers into you, your juices coating his fingers. As you start to loosen up even more he slides another finger into you. The feeling of his thick hands inside of you make you feel impossibly stretched. It feels so good, everything feels so good fuck.

As you near your orgasm you pull him close to you, whimpering and panting wanting, needing to finish as his fingers ruthlessly attack the spongy spot inside your pussy.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you whine fucked out on his fingers. “Please Gojo let me cum,” you lean in to kiss him but he pulls back, teasing you. He pretends to think, already knowing the answer. “You’ve been such a good girl,” he growls out. Matching his thrusts with his words. “Guess I should let you,” he finishes and kisses you.

His fingers speed up making your legs twitch as you reach your climax. Your moans are beautiful against his ears, he can never get enough of you. You’re so perfect.

You call out his name when you cum, your juices spraying out and coating his fingers. He slows down his tempo to help you ride through your orgasm, swallowing your cute little pants and whines.

“How’s my sweet girl doing?” He coos, cupping your cheek and using his thumb to caress the side of your face. You lean into his touch, still blissfully fucked out on his fingers. You let out a hum to signal you’re still with him.

Red coats your cheeks when you hear him say that you taste so fucking good. You use both of your hands to grasp on his forearm that’s attached to the hand on your cheek. “Mm Gojo,” you softly whisper out his name, not completely sure what the real goal was. You just wanted to say his name.

“I know baby, I know,” he quickly places a peck on your forehead before leaning back and quickly undoing his belt and jeans, leaving him in his boxers. Still in your fucked out state you don’t notice just how big he is.

He makes quick work of his boxers, throwing them in a random corner of the room before leaning down over you. “Is this okay? Are you okay with this?” He asks, and you could almost laugh if you weren’t out of breath. Of course you were okay with this, more than okay. “Yesyesyes, just let me feel you. I want you. Please,” you breathe out, looking straight into his eyes.

And something in him just snaps.

Hearing you beg for him, how utterly desperate you sound, it’s too much, you’re too much. His feelings for you are too much. He drags you to the end of the bed and places your legs over his shoulders. He shoves your full length inside of your pussy and you cry out. He’s so big…

You barely have time to adjust before he pulls back out and slams back into you. You grip onto his back, nails scratching down the entirety of his backside. “‘Ts too much- Ah!” moan after moan fills the room, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against each other is basically drowned out by both your cries and his grunts.

The ruthless pace he sets makes your tits bounce against his chest, and he doesn’t fail to notice. His mouth greedily sucks on one while his hand fondles the other. “Oh my god! You feel so good ah..,” the sound of your cute little moans do downright dirty things to him. It makes him want to fucking ruin you.

When he decides your right boob is marked up enough he moves to your other, spitting on it before continuing his same merciless treatment on it.

You feel like your soul left your body when one of his hands lifted your hips a bit so he could thrust deeper into you. His cock is filling every single bit of you, and your pussy is greedily sucking him in.

“Ngh..Gojo feels so good. Your cock is filling me ah! so well,” you chant out his name like a prayer.

Once he declares both of your pretty tits taken care of he wraps a hand around your throat and makes eye contact with you. “Beautiful girl..taking me so well. Perfect, you’re fucking perfect,” he praises against your lips.

Both of you are near, you can feel his cock twitching inside of you and Gojo can feel how your pretty pussy is gripping him even more tight. It’s basically calling out his name, pulsing around his dick like a needy little thing.

“Gojo!” You scream out when you cum for the second time that night. Just a few more thrusts and he releases inside of you as well, spilling his warm cum inside of you.

His pace slows as he rides out his orgasm while also helping you ride out yours. “So perfect..did so well, pretty girl, did so fucking good,” he whispers. He continues to let out sweet praises as both of you continue to catch your breath.

You weren’t sure when you closed your eyes, but when you reopened them you were now in the bath against a firm, hard chest. You close your eyes again, relishing the feeling of being relaxed against him.

Gojo on the other hand is still in awe, he can’t, will not believe that you’re here with him. Leaning against him like this has been routine for years, like you guys have been together.

He rests his cheek against your head and you softly hum. His hands gently rub incoherent shapes against your hips as the two of you seek comfort against the both of each other.

Lovestruck!Gojo who kisses the crown of your head as his arms snake around your waist. His hold tightens, and you let it.

Lovestruck! Gojo who promises himself to keep holding you like this now, and in the future. Who promises to never let you go, and you’d never dream of letting him.

[satorusugurugurl]

JJK Men: Accidentally Finding Your Private Photos

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, AFAB!Reader

Warnings: language, smut, unprotected, sex, cream, pies, oral sex, photography,, consensual photography, minions of nudes

Word Count: 4,861

A/N: I finally finished one of the pool from so long ago! I have to be at work in the next six hours so I’m only gonna get about two hours of sleep, but it was well worth getting this written. Geto’s nearly took me out but Nanami’s MGBBGHBJNCRGHG yummy

Gojo Satoru:

“Oh wait! Wait until you see these pictures of Megumi!” Gojo laughed out loud, smacking his thigh as you both sat in your living room. “The kid got messed up!”

“You're such an ass sometimes.” you laughed, glancing over at his phone. “It was a grade two curse.” Gojo waved a hand before you as he flipped through his photo gallery. You grimaced, feeling nothing but pure sympathy for the young boy, while your best friend snickered. “Yikes, poor kid.”

Gojo put his phone down with a content sigh. “Shoko fixed him up; he's sleeping it off.”

“Maybe he wouldn't have needed to sleep it off if you weren't too busy grabbing kikufuku.”

You felt the couch shift as Gojo dropped one of his long arms around you. “Someone's just upset she didn't get any!” He pursed his lips together, bringing his other hand up to poke you in the cheek. “I ate them all on the bullet train home~!”

You could feel your cheeks flush as you shut your eyes tight, trying to make it seem as though you were pissed off by his childish teasing when in reality, you were resisting the urge to rub your thighs together as the smell of his cologne overwhelmed you. Gojo Satoru might be your best friend and boyfriend, but he was annoying and overly confident, which left most people with a sour taste when forced to be around him. But you liked that about him.

He was an egotistical little shit, but he was your egotistical shit.

“Hey, I'm sorry; I promise to get you a bag next time.” Gojo squeezed you against his side, allowing you to feel the warmth of his body.

“Whatever, I don't care, not when I went to that new sweet shop without you when you were gone.”

The gasp that left Gojo’s mouth was soap opera-worthy—as if you had just told him his twin brother, who had fallen down an elevator shaft, was still alive. There was something almost satisfying in how he reeled back, his eyebrows furrowing underneath his blindfold.

“You promised me that we would go together!”

“Yeah? Well, I promised the second year that if they could successfully make a talisman that could prevent me from crossing a line, I would take them out for ice cream. And I was promised kikufuku! So it looks like we both broke our word!”

“You Little shit! I can’t believe you went without me!”

“Yeah, I did, and guess what?”

Gojo leaned down, his eyebrows twitching under his blindfold. “What?”

“It was fucking delicious!” you watched with satisfaction as your boyfriend slumped forward, dropping his head down.

“You’re so cruel.”

“I wouldn’t have had to brag if some gluttonous idiot didn’t forget to bring me kikufuku to share as he promised!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Oh, you’re sorry?”

“No, not really?”

You scoffed as you scrolled through your photos. “Oh, you’re going to be sorry.” Before your boyfriend could question what you were doing, you turned your camera to him and showed him the photos of the different desserts you had ordered in the second year.

“Stop!” he slowly licked his lips. “What is that, and why can I taste it?!”

You zoomed in on the banana pudding Maki had ordered. “Southern banana pudding with vanilla wafer and whipped cream topping..” before you could flip through the rest of the photos, your phone was plucked out of your hands.

“I hate you.” snarled them, moving through your photos in your gallery. “ I hate you so much that I’m taking you back to that same café after work, and I’m not gonna buy you anything, and I’m gonna make you watch me eat the banana—” his words were abruptly cut off as he scrolled to another photo—one that wasn’t of pastries and cake but if you.

You were nothing but a sheer black Lacey bra and matching thong. The camera was pointed above you, getting a great shot of your beautiful body. The curves and dips were so gorgeous that the swells of your breasts caught his attention. He could see your nipples through the fabric, making his mouth and anticipation of a different kind of treat.

“Toru?” the snapping fingers drew his attention away from your phone screen. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m starving.” His voice was deeper than normal, and a certain tone behind it caused heat to pool between his legs.

“W-Well,” you cleared your throat. Do you know what you’re hungry for? Did you see anything else you liked from the café besides the banana pudding?”

“Oh, I saw something I liked but wasn’t from the café.”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to ask him what he wants. Instead, he turns the phone to you, much to your shock. There are no pastries on the screen. It is the photo you took the night before and the new set you bought at the store for tonight. You gasped, reaching for your phone only to have your boyfriend hold it up above his freakishly tall head.

“Oh my God! Why did you scroll that far!?”

“Why didn’t you send these to me last night?”

“I just wanted to see what it looks like on me!” hands grabbed your hips, pulling you back against your boyfriend's sturdy form.

His lips slowly trailed over your neck as he pulled you down one of the dark alleyways of the school, somewhere away from fellow sorcerers or students. “Do you want to know what I think of that pretty little set?” Gojo listened to you. I think you look delicious in it, and I just so happen to be starving.” His head tilted slightly, grinning so wide the dimple in his cheek deepened. So are you going to let me devour you?”

Both of you breathe heavily, your eyes roaming over his face breath, brushing over your bottom lip. The tension was so thick before you snapped, grabbing his face and both your hands smashing your lips against his as he growled, kissing you back with as much passion. That kiss shifted into something that most people would write as NC-17. Gojo was able to control him himself, but when he found out you were wearing the same set from the picture, he suddenly wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground, pinning you against the wall. Your skirt was pushed up to your hips while your pretty panties were pulled to the side. His mouth pressed against your neck, muffling his moans. Your moans muffled as his right hand pressed firmly against your mouth.

“Shit baby, you’re so fucking wet for me, sweetheart.” his left hand massaged your thigh, easing the ache that accompanied the burning sensation of you trying to keep your legs wrapped firmly around his waist as he pushed himself deeper inside of you, slamming you against the concrete wall.

“Mm~!! Mmm~!”

Your sweet, muffled moans against your boyfriend’s palm only had him moving faster to draw more out. “God, I’m so lucky to have a girlfriend is fucking sexy and stunning as you. Anything you wear looks fucking fantastic on you.” he snarled against your neck. “I want you constantly so fucking bad.” your legs tightened around him, giving him a gentle squeeze as your walls constricted around him, drawing out a louder groan from Gojo. “Oooh fuck, fuck, fuck~!!” you could feel him twitching inside of you. His little grunts and whines against your skin had your walls, stomach, and heart fluttering at the sound of his voice. “Fucck~ baby—haaah fuck yeah, keep squeezing me like that! Just like that!”

The head of his cock presses perfectly against your g-spot, making your eyes roll back, a telling sign that you are close. Gojo was thankful for this because he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to last any longer. He sped up his movements, slamming into you, making you scream into the palm of his hand. That erotic sound pushed him further, making him move faster, harder, fucking you with all of his strength, and being the strongest allowed him to lose all his control. He was fucking you so good. The literal wall behind you shook under the force of his thrusts.

The combination of his monstrous thrusts had cock you squirting as you cried out against his hand. Your orgasm had soaked his uniform shirt and boxers with your release. Feeling you cum so hard left Gojo growling as he bucked even harder. Thick ropes of cum filled you, and he didn’t stop there. He kept going, fucking his cum further into you, pushing it as deep as it would go until he finally stopped. His breath tingled over your skin as he slowly pulled away, smiling drunkenly at you.

“Fuck sweetheart that— sweetie? Babe?” he chuckled as your head fell forward, hitting his shoulder. “You good there?”

“I-If I knew you finding my nudes would lead to you fucking me like that, I would’ve shown them to you sooner.”

“Them—?” his voice was very soft, but his cock twitched hard inside of you. “You have more of them?” the instant Gojo found out about the whole hidden album that was on your phone full of your nudes and private videos. He dropped the veil and teleported you back to the apartment. Seeing all your pictures and videos would be worth the lecture he’d be getting from Yaga the following day.

Geto Suguru:

The days that Geto got home early from a mission or some of his favorite days. These were the days he got to take a hot shower, sleep in his bed, and see you again. Whenever he was away from you from your home, he felt like a part of him was missing

When he walked into your shared apartment, he felt all the tension in his shoulders melt away. The familiar smell of homemade aches and pains vanished as if Shoko had healed him. God, he’d love getting home early. What would have made coming home even better would have been if you had been here with him. But from the side of your slippers by the door, it was apparent that you were still stuck at work.

Suguru had about three hours before you gave him more than enough time to shower, take a nap, and do the laundry. That way, whenever you did get home tonight, all you would need to worry about was cuddling with him on the couch. Geto did everything in that exact order, and by the time the last load had been folded, you texted him that you were on your way home with dinner.

Knowing that you would be coming home soon, I encouraged Suguru to move faster, hang up the laundry, and throw his boxers in his drawer before opening yours to put your folded panties inside. He was putting away your bras when an envelope underneath the lacy fabric caught his gaze. He had put your clothes away multiple times, but he had never seen that shoved there before.

Was it wrong to look at the contents hidden at the bottom of your underwear drawer? Maybe. Was it going to stop him from looking? No way in hell.

When he freed the trap envelope from under your flimsy sets, he was pleased to see his name written over it in your handwriting. It seems as though you wanted him to find this. Plop down on the edge of the bed, open it, seeing photos inside. They were Polaroids from small squares with black backs, white frames, and a glossy finish. Flipping them over, Suguru tried to think if you both owned the Polaroid, but all those thoughts went tumbling out the window as he stared at the pictures in his hand. Whether you owned the Polaroid camera or not didn’t matter to him.

All he cared about was the nude photos of you; he held his hands.

You were in different positions in the show, sprawled out on the bed, the blanket doing nothing to cover you. Well, other photos are arranged from you sitting on your knees, back slightly arched, pushing your breasts out to you facing down on the bed, the camera pointing at your face. Seeing you so naked, looking at the camera with a sultry expression, had all of the blood from Geto’s head went rushing to the head of his cock.

Why the hell were you hiding this from him? Was this a little treat for him after a mission, or did you want to get him all riled up?

Suguru didn’t have to wait for the answer because the front door opened as soon as he put the pictures down on the bed. “Sugu, I’m home!” You barely managed to put your keys in the bowl near the front door when your boyfriend rushed out of the room, his dark hair flowing behind him. “Welcome back; I picked up your favorite Zaru Soba good—aggh!!” Suguru scooped you up, putting you over his shoulder before rushing back to the bedroom.

Your boyfriend didn’t say anything as he threw you onto the mattress. You swallowed hard, sitting up on your elbows, only to have him reach down, ripping open your uniform jacket. Buttons went flying across the room as you fell back against the mattress. Your perfect breasts bounced the confines of your shirt, making your horny boyfriend feral.

“S-Sugu!”

“Found your pictures—”

Was all he said before tugging your shirt over your head, his hands frantically pushing down your pants as he worked at his gray sweatpants. “Fuck you look so pretty in them.” Pictures? Oh God, you found the images you had taken for your anniversary with him?! You found yourself wishing that the mattress would open up and swallow you whole so you could avoid the embarrassment that was itching at the back of your skull.

“T-Th—ahh~” his lips moved expertly over your collarbone while his hands gently squeezed your breasts, pushing your shirt up enough that allowed him to tag your bra down, freeing them. “S-Sugu—those—w-were—”

“Exactly what I needed.”

Your photos may have been what he needed to get his motors going. Or maybe you were the stress relief he needed after a very annoying mission. Your pictures were the fuel that he needed to destroy you.

Drool seeped out of the corner of your mouth as Suguru grabbed a handful of your hair, forcing your face down into the mattress as he fucked you from behind. Your back was arched, ass sticking up, allowing him to slide in deep. You loved this position; it felt so good to be manhandled like this.

His long, thick fingers dug into your hair, pulling you up just an inch and allowing you to take a deep breath before your face shoved back into the comforter. You cried your hips against his cock, forcing him deeper inside of you. As you did, the other sounds besides the slapping of skin, your moans and his, the clicking of the Polaroid camera he held in his hands.

“Fuuck~ yeah~ fuck yourself. Rock your hips back against my cock Princess.” Suguru watched as your weekly whimpered, rocking your hips back pathetically slow and allowing him to snap a few pictures. “Ooh fuck.” he hissed through his teeth, grabbing the developing film, shaking it before his hips picked up his pace again, slamming into you, forcing your face back into the bedding. “Gonna keep that one in my wallet.”

“S-Sugu~! Haaah fuck!”

“Yeah, do you like the idea of that? Me having a nasty photo of you in my wallet?” He pulled back an inch, taking another photo of his cock wet with your arousal, the tip still buried inside of your wet cunt. “ only you know that was in there. And you would be the only one to know that when I’m on a mission and at a hotel alone. You’re pretty pictures are what I’m stroking my cock to at night.”

“Hnngh!” You sobbed, fingers digging into the sheets, as you tried your best to rock back against him, chasing your orgasm that was coiling deep in your abdomen. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum!”

“Yeah, do it~ cum all over this fat fucking cock, baby~ make a mess.”

The orgasm snapped like a rubber band deep in your tummy. Your toes curled as you screamed as loud as your lungs would allow into your pillow. Suguru sucked in a breath, Following your body that collapsed on the bed, his hips still frantically moving against the fat of your ass, chasing his release that came just as fast and hard.

“Fuck~ oooh fuck yes baby! Cumming~ cummin’!”

Geto continued fucking you, not once slowing down, until he fully pulled out of you, loud pop echoing off the walls. You weakly protested as he repositioned your back arched ass out, you already knew what he was doing, but your body just wanted to slump back onto the mattress and fall asleep. But this was what your boyfriend wanted to do, and seeing that your pictures were the reason for his horny desires, let him do what he wanted if you listen to several clicks from the Polaroid behind you.

“Fuck—” Suguru whispered, shaking the photo as he set the camera aside, pulling you onto his chest. “This is Playboy material, babes.” he had the picture between his pointer and middle finger, turning it for you to see the photo he had captured of his cum running out of your pussy.

Seeing such an intimate photo of yourself like that didn’t leave you feeling dirty or embarrassed in any way, shape, or form. Instead, it had you feeling the returning burning desire in your stomach. And while your boyfriend, the pictures he had taken, adding to your collection. Suguru was so entranced he nearly missed the sensation of your soft kisses trailing down his stomach.

“Excuse me,” he scoffed, setting the pictures to the side. Just what do you think you’re doing there, princess?”

“Cleaning up my mess~ get the camera ready. I want you to take a lot of pictures. That way, I can reference what I have to do to improve my technique.” Suguru wanted to chuckle, but when you dragged your tongue over the underside of his cock, his eyes rolled back as he weakly searched for the camera that was on the side of his bed. He loved coming home early.

Nanami Kento

“Ken! Baby, I think something is wrong with my laptop!” you say before dramatically hitting the keyboard.“It’s banging for me to put it out of its misery. I think it’s finally time that I retire this guy.”

“Huh, it’s not that old model.” You pouted as your husband took your laptop from before you and plopped it down on his lap as he began typing at the computer. He looked as though he was some hacker from one of those cheesy nineties movies. “If you would keep it up-to-date like I’ve told you to do multiple times, you wouldn’t have this issue every time you opened it.”

“I hate waiting—”

“You need patience in your life; it can make things go a lot smoother for you in the long run.”

You puffed out your cheeks, knowing very well that your husband had always been right. You needed to take more time to find solace in your life. Maybe one of these days you would be able to do that. Today was not one of those days, though. You need to get on your laptop and finish the report, or your boss will surely give you an earful the following day.

“Yaga will kill me if I don’t get this report to him by the end of the day. Kento baby, what am I going to do? I’m too fragile to go up against, Yaga!”

Kento laughs, looking at you over the bridge of his glasses. “You and I both know you are more than capable of taking them out. Give yourself more credit, Love.” You appreciated your husband's honesty, but that didn’t help you with your current situation.

“Kento, that’s not gonna help me with my report.”

“Love of my life, it’s an easy fix. Just use my laptop while I try to get this up-to-date for you.”

Nanami rolled his eyes as you smothered kisses alongside his cheek. “Oh my god, thank you! I love you so much!” You grabbed your husband’s laptop and went to work on your report. Well, he clicked and tapped more gently at your keyboard than you had before.

He was able to update your system. The wheel constantly turned on your screen while he sipped on his wine. Nanami made a mental note to show you how to do this yourself once your report was submitted to Yaga; as your screen returned to life, it didn’t open on your lock screen, which was usually a picture of the two of you on your wedding day. Your laptop had decided to open up right where you had left it two nights before.

It was still a picture of you, but it was from your boudoir photo shoot for your wedding. Nanami choked on his wine as he stared at the screen, his cheeks flushing, and all the tips of his ears burned as he stared at the most intimate pictures he had ever seen. Pictures you had yet to show him after three months of being married.

The intimate photos of you are done so tastefully. Most range from different positions, like lying on a couch in your robe with your veil on. While the other was of you slipping your wedding dress on the backs, nagging against the fat of your ass, showing off the pretty lacy white underwear you had been wearing. But the photo that had Nanami choking was of you on your knees, your wedding veil falling over the swells of your bare breasts as your hands covered your nipples. Your eyes narrowed, staring at the camera while your lips parted slightly. Seeing you like that made him try to inhale his wine, which ended poorly for him.

“Oh! Did it go down the wrong pipe?” You asked, putting his laptop down. “At least it's white wine and not red. Red wine stains are bitch to get out of the carpet.” You stood up from your spot, stretching your arms above your head. “I'll go get you rag quick.”

You barely moved two steps before your husband was following after you. “Why didn’t you show me the pictures from your boudoir photo shoot?”

“Oh! Well, I didn’t care for how some of them came out, so I decided to pick through my favorites before I showed you. Why do you ask?”

Nanami didn’t need to answer your question because you got your answer the second your eyes darted toward your laptop. And, of course, he was looking at one of the pictures you even had a chance to look through. You just stared at the photo of yourself before running a hand down your face.

“They’re terrible, I know. I should’ve never let Shoko convince me to do it.”

Nanami gently took your hand, leading to the front of his pants. He placed your fingers over the hard bulge that was throbbing. You swallowed hard, glancing up at your husband, who was blushing just as much as you, and his very physical reaction twitched, letting you know that your husband liked the photos from your sexy photo shoot.

“I like them; I like them a lot.”

“I can tell,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over his erection through his pants. “Ken, you're so hard.”

“T-Th-hhngh photo.” he jerked his head toward your laptop, “really caught my attention.”

“Oh, it did?”

“Yes.”

Looking back at your screen, you truly took in the side of your photo. Your photographer had shot the picture in black-and-white, giving it a certain elegance despite the horny look in your eyes. You remembered asking for that specific pose for your husband. But in reality, it was for you.

You pushed Nanami back against the bed with a smirk. “Is there a reason why that picture cut your attention?” He huffed a sigh, blushing a darker shade as he watched you rub your cheek over the bulge.

“I like it because I love it when you’re on your knees for me, sucking my cock.”

Your fingers wrapped around his buckle, unfastening it. “Can I let you in on a little secret?” Nanami nodded, growling as you tucked his pants down. “That’s why I asked for her to take that specific picture. Because I know how much you love me on my knees for you.” You pressed kisses along his shaft from the base to the tip, your tongue ding over the pre-cum that was seeping through the fabric

“O-Oh—”

“Let me demonstrate.”

Your demonstration continued for what seemed like an eternity in heaven. Nanami gently stroked your hair as you slid your lips up and down, taking his cock further into your mouth. "Ohh fuck yes, those photos of you looked so good, baby girl. Makes me wanna devour you~" Kento gently grabbed the top of your head, pulling you forward until his cock slid across your tongue, hitting the back of your throat.

You hummed around him, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock before bobbing your head slowly up and down over him. Staring into the sea of lust, your eyes looked like how they had at done with the camera during your photo shoot. That submissive pose, the faux innocence in your eyes, was precisely what Nanami loved about this position.

"Ohh fuck. Perfect little mouth just for me, huh?”

You moaned in approval as you bobbed your head. Nanami was the perfect husband. If he was going to praise the photo of you, he felt like you didn’t look good, and he would get a treat. He was so kind, sweet, and considerate to you, so if you were able to spoil him once in a while as a thank you for all of his sweet words and for providing for you, you would not hesitate at the chance to do so.

Kento pushed you back by your forehead, groaning softly. "Fuck, you look so pretty~" He growled before thrusting into your mouth, his balls slapping against your chin. You whined around him, looking up at him into his eyes as he fucked your mouth. You could feel yourself getting wet on every ball of your head. He moaned low in his chest, looking back into your eyes. "Oh. I know that look~ You want me to make love to don't you honey?” Your eyes snapped wide as you blushed deeply. “Good girl~ Once I use your throat, then I'll fuck you like you need, darling~" Kento groaned, speeding up his hips.

Your eyes watered, streams of black trailing down your cheeks as he fucked your throat slowly. Watching him slowly lose control made your finger twitch as you slowly reached down, rubbing yourself. God, you loved him, and you loved how he made you feel!

"Ah-ah. What did I just say, Love. let me cum down your throat firat, then your pussy can feel good. I want to spoil you for being—ah—such a good girl.” He purred, speeding up slightly before stiffening as your tongue wrapped expertly around him, massaging his shaft in time with the bobbing of your head. “F-Fuck! Yes, j-just l-like t-th-hhngh! Haa! Fuck!” Kento snarled before cumming in your mouths, face fucking you through it.

With each spurt that filled your mouth, you eagerly swallowed it, only pulling off of him when Kemto was whimpering from the overstimulation. As you sat on your knees, licking your lips, Nanami watched you through half-lidded eyes. His lips slightly parted as he did something he had never done before. He pulled his cell phone out and held it directly in front of your face.

“Ken?”

“Stick your tongue out. Show me how you swallowed it all.” without arguing, you did as your husband asked, sticking your tongue out. As you did, he snapped a few pictures before growling and zooming in on each. “Fuck you're so beautiful.” He sighed, admiring his photos for one other second before he placed his phone down on the couch before yanking you up onto the sofa and flinging your panties off.

“Ah! K-Kento, what are you doing??!”

“You being on your knees in front of me might be one of your favorite positions.” He growled as he nipped and sucked on your inner thighs. “Well, one of my favorite positions is right here, between your thighs so sit back and relax, my love. I’ll take very good care of you.” You squealed as his tongue ran over your sensitive clit, before arching you back, eagerly bucking across his mouth.

Note to self: Get Shoko a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of wine for booking the boudoir photographer for you!

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

[sunaluv]

'IS SHE TAKEN?'

in which someone asks your man if you're single

feat: ran, gojo

RAN

the club setting was filled with more excitement tonight. don't get it twisted, any club or event hosted by the haitanis was guaranteed to be the event of the day, good vibes, hot people, and lots of money to be made. but when one of the brothers was actually present at the club? something about their aura seemed to bring out the vibes in people.

ran's hooded gaze watched adoringly at you across the club, the setting bringing nostalgia to the first time you met. ever the social butterfly you were, accepting another phone number from one of the girlfriends you made tonight. the other members of the roundtable looked at one another, wondering if the haitani brother was even present.

"no wonder you're so distracted, boss," the man next to him nudged him with his elbow, to which ran side-eyed him. "she's a looker, d'ya think she's single?"

your boyfriend appeared neutral as he let the guy ramble on about how hot you were, and what he would do to you given the chance. he missed the harsh roll of ran's eyes. if he didn't know you were spoken for, he would make sure this guy knew by the end of the night.

as if on queue, you waved bye to your new friends and started to make your way to the table. eyes followed your figure as you passed, but that was to be expected when the prettiest girl at the club walked past.

"hey, sweetheart," his soft lips pressed against the crown of your head. "you alright?"

"i'm good! a little tired though," you let out a deep sigh, melting into his arms. "these heels have been killing me..."

wordlessly, his large hands had your ankles in his lap, undoing the buckles on your heels and rubbing tender circles into the irritated skin.

he smirked at the relieved sigh that left your lips. "my buddy here has something to ask you, sweets."

the man next to you seemed to go silent since your arrival at the table, the consequences of his actions just hitting. a deep breath followed by a gulp as he wiped his damp hands against his slacks. he almost flinched when your hooded, yet dominating gaze met his own eyes, but after remembering who and where he was, he gained his composure almost as quickly as it left.

"nah 'ts nothin'," he waved his hand. "just a passing thought, is all..."

others both around the roundtable and those dancing near it tried not to make it obvious that they were watching the exchange going down. they found themselves pitying a character who would not deserve it, under different circumstances. but, as discussed, the haitani aura seems to throw things off of balance.

if he didn't want to talk, ran would do it for him. "he wants to know if your single, claims he could give you a lay better than your man could,"

your eyes left the man, instead looking over your boyfriends face in silent communication.

'you and i both know he can't'

'...i know, my love, just humor me every once in a while?'

'you're such a character sometimes, haitani'

'you love it though'

eyes darted between you, awaiting your response, thus his sentence in anticipation. he didn't know what telepathic language you were communicating in, but he was glad to not hear his fate get discussed right in front of him.

"i'm very flattered, but i have a boyfriend, sorry." your response was dry towards him, but the gaze you held with ran was anything but.

catching wind of what was about to happen, you excused yourself from the table, leaving a kiss on the corner of rans mouth, whispering a 'be good' in his ear before leaving.

whatever happened after your departure was not your business, after all.

GOJO

"hey man," a hand belonging to an unfamiliar man clasped on satorus shoulder. "do you know if the girl you came here with has a boyfriend?"

you had dragged your boyfriend to one of your friend's parties, much to his dismay. he's sworn off drinking after geto's blackmail folder started getting a bit thick, meaning there was nothing fun to do other than socialise, but he didn't want to after people flocked to him for the wrong reasons.

so now he was maybe the only sober one in this lively scene, which leads to the current events.

he spoke your name for clarity. "uhh, I'm not sure. you can go ask her if you want. ill even put in a good word for you."

has this man been a fraction more sober, he would've questioned why the blindfolded man's smile was so wide, or why he was so willing to help, but alas, this was a party and alcohol was supplied.

"thanks, dude! you're such a lifesaver."

satoru almost felt bad for the guy. he was practically buzzing whilst traversing through the sweaty bodies in search of you. he felt bad until he remembered how bored he was before this happened, he has to put himself first sometimes.

after a couple stumbles, reroutes and a rest break, they had finally found you in your angelic beauty, laughing with a group of girls he didn't know.

he thought it was quite cute how the guy seemed to become more shy at the sight of you, and satoru couldn't blame him. had he been someone more normal, he would act the same in your presence.

one of the girls caught sight of the pair by the entry and gestured you towards them. your face softened slightly at the sight of your six-foot-something boyfriend and his... friend?

"hey toru," you smiled, before looking at the other man. "who’s this?"

satoru said nothing, slapping the guy a little too harshly on the back before stepping back. the floor was his.

"hey," he breathed out, before introducing himself. "i saw you come in with your friend earlier, and just wanted to know if you were seeing anyone?"

your heart rate picked up, but not for the reason the guy was hoping. why was gojo like this? did he enjoy seeing you suffer?

he obviously did as when you looked over your shoulder to the said man, he gave you a big, encouraging grin with both thumbs up. the audacity.

he had thrown you to the wolves and left you to fend for yourself.

"uhm..." you breathed, trying not to shatter the poor guy's heart. "i have a boyfriend, unfortunately. sorry."

"what do you mean, unfortunately!" satoru mocked you from behind the guy. "I'm a total catch, right?" he turned to the guy. "right??"

though delayed, the guy had finally come to the realisation he had been punked by the man who egged him on the whole time. his face burst into a deep shade of red, apologising profusely before rushing back into the crowd.

"you're such an ass, gojo."

"the last name huh?" he scratched the back of his neck. "I'm in for it arent i?"

[eridanusco]

All grown up

characters: Megumi Fushiguro

relationships: Megumi x Reader

summary: childhood bff!Megumi and you are off to college. wait, why is Megumi so mad? why is he dragging you into his apartment? an innocent conversation with his neighbor turns into him making sure you know you’re his.<3

warnings: MDNI! (18+), very little plot, porn w/out plot, smutty smut, cunnilingus, nipple play, dacryphylia if you squint, afab!reader, virgin!reader, PIV intercourse, should child Megumi be a warning?, aged up character (18), size kink is kinking, idk if soft dom applies but I’m putting it here anyways

author’s note: This slithered into my brain and wouldn’t leave. feedback is always welcome :)

masterlist<3

“Sh, you can take it,” Megumi murmurs, his thumb stroking your lip softly before pressing in, the pad of it running across your tongue. “That’s it, pretty baby. You’re being so good for ‘gumi, y’know that?”

Megumi’s broad shoulders block your vision, his muscular frame dwarfing you as he leans on a forearm planted beside your head. He watches as tears prick the corners of your eyes to track down the apples of your cheeks, leaning down to trace the tracks with his tongue.

How did you get here? Growing up with Megumi as your best friend wasn’t a walk in the park- meeting at a tender age of five, you hid behind your Aunt Shoko’s legs as she and Gojo tried to spark a friendship for their respective wards. Megumi was a little quiet, a little snarky as your friendship blossomed, always having an opinion on everything you did. Despite it all, you became fast friends, your names becoming synonymous by your middle school years. Megumi and you, you and Megumi- there was no one else, no other friends allowed, and you both made sure of that in your own ways.

Megumi, rude to every boy that tried to befriend you, tore them down with a bored tone and an expression that conveyed how lackluster he found them. You were a little more of a brat- you pushed girls off of swings and lunchroom benches if they dared to try and befriend your ‘gumi.

You and Megumi were freshmen in college, meeting at his apartment for dinner- the apartment he hated, but Gojo insisted on, having dramatically broken down as he vowed that no son of his would ever live in a dorm. As Megumi opened the door, you had been stopped by a neighbor of his- a fairly handsome boy, also newly eighteen, with blonde hair and a height difference that made your neck hurt. A friendly conversation, until Megumi dragged you into his apartment, his mouth in a flat line and his eyes angry. It didn’t take long before he’d stripped you of your clothes, lips and teeth trailing along every inch of skin he bared.

He shushes you again as you whine for him, “s’too- too big, gumi!” He rolls his hips gently, tilting to rub his nose along hers. “Not too big, baby. You’re a big girl, aren’t you? Keep takin’ it, just like that.”

The skin of his chest sticks to yours as he withdraws his thumb, running it down your arm to grasp your hand and pin it to the sheets above your heads with entwined fingers. A dark smile spreads slowly over his lips as you whimper, pressing deeper. “See? That wasn’t so- hah- hard, was it baby?” He asked as his rhythm sped up.

Whining, your free hand rakes down his back, nails leaving trails of fire that cause his hips to snap sharply. “Fuck,” he groans, forehead dropping to yours. He uses his whole body to rock into you, defined muscles of his abdomen clenching as the bed creaks. “Greedy lil’ thing, can’t - ngh- help yourself, huh?”

Sticky sweetness drips from your messy cunt down Megumi’s cock, pooling at his base in a creamy ring. He shifts to his knees, hands spreading your thighs as he takes in the sight with a low groan. He can’t help but swipe a thumb over your clit roughly, shoving his aching cock into you as you keen.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he grunts, almost to himself. “Sucking me in so good, so pretty.”

The hand not rubbing you caresses down your waist and over your hip, fingers gripping tightly enough to leave imprints when he moves to grab your knee and press it up, open over his hip. “Sh, baby girl. ‘Gumi’s got you. You’re doin’ so- ” He cuts off with a curse, eyes clenching shut as he shifts up and forward, grinding down against you in a way that has you both stuttering against each other. "Mm, fuu-uhck," he swears through his teeth. Your gummy walls tighten around him, drool seeping from the corners of your mouth as his fat tip bullies your g-spot, the rhythmic tightening of your cunt almost milking him.

“Hngh- ‘gumi!” You cry, a trembling hand lifting and tangling your fingers in his hair, tugging him down.

He grunts softly, hips stuttering as you thread your fingers through his sweaty locks before complying easily and dropping his head to yours, lips pressing against your neck. He peppers a trail of kisses up to your ear before nipping the lobe in a way that has your fingers curling against his scalp, sharp white teeth dragging over skin and causing your leg to jerk in his hold.

"That’s it, pretty baby," he hums in a soft rumble against your throat. "You like that, huh? You like it when I play with you a little rough?" You whine desperately, a plea for more, for everything. “Gumi- m’so close, please!” You warn, pressing your head back into the pillows, your back arching.

He chuckles lowly into your skin, lips curving into a smirk as you shiver, nodding. “Thought so,” he murmurs in amusement, trailing more tender kisses along the column of your neck.

His hands span your waist as he shifts back on his knees, holding you in a mean arch as his thighs tense with each mind-numbing pump of his hips.

With a low moan, he fucks into you, forcing a high, needy whine from your throat as you lift your arms to grip onto his biceps, fingers digging into the muscle. "Slutty pussy’s gonna come on my cock, yeah?” He manages to grunt. You cry out, your thighs trembling as you quickly approach your peak. “Pleasepleaseplease!” You whine.

Megumi grins at your eager response, hips snapping harder and faster, the wet squelch of flesh filling the air. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy up,” he groans, his gaze fixed on his swollen cock disappearing into your weeping cunt. He reaches again between your bodies, fingers seeking out your swollen clit. With a knowing look, he starts rubbing firm circles around it, twisting slightly to apply pressure. “Come on, baby,” he coaxes, voice husky with lust. “Soak me, lemme feel how bad you wanna be good for me. Pussy’s so tight, feel you squeezing me.”

You sob as everything goes white, your ears ringing and hands scrabbling at the sheets underneath you. That’s all it takes for Megumi to lose it, aching cock pistoning into your gushing heat as his head falls back on a groan, Adam’s apple bobbing deliciously. You feel the warmth of his come flooding you, dripping obscenely from your still twitching walls as he slumps over you, burying his face into your neck.

You both catch your breath, your hands threading through his hair to stroke soothingly as he presses panting kisses to the hollow of your throat. “Greedy girl,” he breathes, nipping at the sensitive skin before pressing his cheek to your chest. You huff an amused breath from your nose, tugging lightly on his inky locks in retaliation. You lay together, sticky and dripping, letting the silence blanket you. It takes him a few moments but he pulls out, hissing a breath as your walls try to suck him back in.

“Told you,” he murmurs, amused. “Greedy pussy.” He presses a kiss to your collarbone before shifting down, trailing his lips across your skin until he’s able to wrap his tongue around a pebbled nipple, a content hum rattling in his chest. He glances up at you, eyes filled with amused desire, as you inhale sharply, fingers clenching around his strands.

“What- ‘gumi, what are you doing?” You breathe, eyes drooping into a half-lidded stare. He doesn’t respond, flattening his tongue to drag over your nipple until you’re restlessly shifting under him. He pays attention to your other neglected bud until you’re whimpering, only pausing to move further down your body, nasty, open mouthed kisses being pressed to your stomach.

“Gumi?” You ask again, propping on your elbows. He’s settled between your legs, big hands gripping and dimpling the plush skin of your thighs. “Lay down, baby,” he urges softly, staring at the way your combined fluids drip obscenely from your swollen cunt. “Gonna clean you up.”

“Megumi, no!” You exclaim softly, face flushing. You lean on an elbow, your other hand coming to gently push his head away. He grabs your hand, squeezing warningly before pinning it to the bed beside your thigh. That’s all the warning you get before he’s burying his face into your cunt, breathing in and groaning in a way that makes your stomach flip and your face flame. Your head drops to the pillows, a soft gasp leaving your mouth as he flattens his tongue and licks a hot stripe from your filthy hole to your clit.

Megumi eats you with a single-minded intensity, drawing back to spit on your puffy clit before diving back in. His tongue presses into you, thrusting like he wishes it was his cock again to draw out any remaining fluids. “Gumi- ‘gumi, fuck!” You moan. “Please- please s’too much, too sensitive, ohmygod!”

He ignores you, stiffening the pink muscle to thrust even deeper into you before moving to your clit, sucking it into his mouth as his hips rut into the bedding. Tears prick at your closed lids, the stimulation bordering on painful for your poor, dripping cunt. Your sniffling and whimpering make his cock throb, his hips thrusting against the sheets desperately as his hands yank your thighs apart until they’re almost flat to the mattress. All it takes is his tongue lapping one, twice, the hint of teeth pressing against your clit and you’re keening, cunt pulsing around nothing. Megumi can’t help but groan, his cock spurting underneath him as his nails dig into your thighs.

He drops his forehead to your soft skin, catching his breath before climbing up to lay beside you. He draws you into his arms, shaky fingers tracing your spine. “Give me ten minutes,” he mutters hoarsely into your hair, “and I want you on my face.”

You barely have the presence of mind to register his words, laughing breathlessly when it clicks. He drops his head back to the headboard with a thunk, his eyes closing. “Fuck. Make it five.”

[snail-day]

Second Male Lead Syndrome

Sum: Maybe you don't got this nerdjo!

Nerd! Gojo x Reader x FWB! Geto

Previous // Next Part // Masterlist

WC: 2.4k

TW: Angst, Yearning, Anxiety, love triangle-ish, alcohol references.

a/n: A bit short...but I promise the next one will be longer and fluffy <3

Second Male Lead Syndrome — a tragic but familiar condition. Occurs when the audience falls hopelessly in love with the second male lead. When he's sweet and thoughtful, perhaps a little bit stupid, and still doesn’t get the girl. Not because he didn’t try hard enough. But because he never stood a chance.

Satoru had always laughed at those characters. Thought why waste all that time on a girl who didn’t have their eyes set on you. It would never work out, plenty of fish in the sea, etc.  

Until now.

When the room is dim. Soft, warm lighting flickers against the walls. The playlist he curated for you hums softly in the background, some gentle acoustic loop he’d replayed twenty times to ensure the instrumentals didn’t overpower the mood, mostly to ensure he could still hear your voice. The dice scattered like different colored fallen stars across the table, and everyone is still buzzing from the final boss fight. The victory. And the drinks.

And you’re giggling.

But not at him. Not like how he imagined tonight would go. 

You’re pressed just a little too close to Suguru, your shoulder brushing his. Your knees angled towards his. The sound of your laugh, light and tipsy, spills like wine from your lips as Suguru leans in - voice low, mouth grazing the shell of your ear as he murmurs something only you get to hear. Something that makes you smile like that, he hung the stars. Soft. Genuine.

And how your body leans into his like it’s instinct. Like he's the male lead in your fairy tale.

Satoru feels the punch to the gut. The anxiety and thoughts spiraling.

Perhaps Satoru had poured your drinks a little too strong. Just enough for you to laugh at Suguru’s jokes without overthinking them. So much that you don’t seem to notice how Satoru hasn’t said anything in a while, since the campaign ended. How his throat’s been dry since he saw Suguru press his hand to the small of your back.

That’s fine. He doesn’t drink. He wanted you to have fun. To loosen up. To look at him the way you’re looking at Suguru now - with stars in your eyes, a lazy smile on your lips hanging onto every little word he speaks. 

When Suguru offers to take you home, Satoru nods too quickly. A weird hiccup of a smile jerks across his face. He can’t even stop himself from asking, “Oh - wait, do you two… know each other?”

You blink. Suguru answers first. “Nope. First time meeting tonight.” His voice is light. Easy. Full of lies.

Then why does it feel like you’ve done this a dozen times?

His broad, firm hand rests on your lower waist, as if it’s the normal placement. His lips brush your ear, and you laugh and Satoru just stands there, watching it all happen like some pitiful side character in the background of a romance anime.

Cool. Awesome. Great. Everything is fine. Everything is wonderful. Amazing actually. 

When he leans in to hug you goodbye, you hesitate. Something breaks in his chest. 

Just for a second. But he feels it. The stiffness in your spine. The polite curve of your arms. The awkward way you both move in the same direction and fumble for an angle. It ends up being a weird, lopsided side hug. Like coworkers. Or strangers who once made small talk in a group chat.

Still, your cheek brushes his chest. And his heart, traitorous and loud, slams against his ribs like it’s trying to get to you. He can’t help it. You’ve captured him, maybe without even knowing it.

He remembers earlier. Just the two of you in the kitchen.

You’d gone to grab more cups. He followed. Said something about helping. Maybe even meant it, but mostly, he just wanted to be near you.

And then you turned. Bumped into him with a soft, surprised “oh!” - the rim of the stacked cups hitting his chest, your body brushing his in a way that sent a spark straight through him. His baby blues went wide, snowy lashes fluttering, before his lips moved into a crooked smile as you looked up at him.

And fuck.

The overhead light hit your features just right, soft eyes sparkling, lips parted, cheeks flushed from laughing in the other room. He could see the curve of your throat, the way your breath caught just slightly from the impact, and he froze. His heart stuttered. Stumbled. Something in his chest bloomed. Warm. Stupid, maybe even a little hopeless.

His pale cheeks flushed, a soft red hue blooming across skin that rarely saw the sun. Embarrassment? Or awe, or maybe just the raw gravity of you standing this close? His mouth parted, but no sound came. Not a joke. Not a clever line. Just this aching silence as he tried to remember how to breathe.

He should’ve stepped back.

But god, you were so close. And you were looking at him like you saw him, just for a second. Like maybe you somehow knew how badly he wanted to lift a hand and cradle your face, just to see if you’d lean into it. To see if you’d soften into his touch.

His fingers twitched at his side. He didn’t touch you. Didn’t dare. What if it made you uncomfortable? Instead, he just stood there, letting himself feel it. The burn in his chest. The ache in his spine from holding himself still. The desperate, idiotic hope that you might say something to break the tension. That this moment could mean something.

Instead, he laughed. A little loud. A bit awkward.

“Oops, sorry,” he said, a bit winded, like you hadn’t just knocked the breath out of his lungs.

And you, god, you just smiled. Brushed past him like nothing had happened, cups hugged to your chest, already back in the living room.

He stayed there. Alone. Staring at the space where you’d been. Swallowed hard and wiped his sweaty palms against his pants like that might make the heat in his body disappear. Moving to slowly fan himself.

He’s been replaying that moment ever since, chest tight, fingers aching, wondering if you even noticed how hard he was trying not to touch you.

You say, “thank you.” Pulling him back from his thoughts. Smile at him, a little flushed, a little tipsy. Your voice soft, barely there, and it hits him harder than anything. Something about it feels... personal. Like you're sharing a moment with him, even if it's fleeting. A moment he plans of selfishly keeping for himself.

He watches you go, watches Suguru’s hand fall to your lower back, slipping a little lower to the curve of your bottom when you think no one’s looking.

Satoru’s heart drops, and it feels like it’s stuck somewhere in his throat, aching to escape. He tries to look away, tries to force himself to move, but he can’t stop watching. He’s breaking, and he knows it.

If it were him…

If it were him, he would be so careful with you. He would be the one bringing you to his guest room, making sure you were comfortable, asking if you needed anything. He would keep his distance, respect it, because you’re tipsy, and you shouldn’t make any decisions right now, but damn it, if he had just a little more time with you... He’d do it right. He wouldn’t rush, wouldn’t make you feel anything you didn’t want to feel. He’d just be there.

Imagining it for a second: You on the plush bed. Him nearby in the armchair, a safe distance but close enough that he could feel the warmth of your presence. He could put on a movie, something silly and light. Keep it all casual. But he would be there, just for you.

And maybe you’d look at him like you did Suguru. Maybe you’d laugh with him the way you laughed with Suguru. But maybe... maybe not. Maybe he’s just fooling himself.

Satoru shakes his head, white hair tumbling, breath shaky. He tries to laugh at his own thoughts. But it’s not funny. It hurts, this stupid ache in his chest that he can’t shake. He can't help the sting in his pretty baby blues.

Suguru glances back at him as you both walk down the hall, with a smile that seems to border smug and something else, like he knows something Satoru doesn’t. Acting like he’s already won the girl. Satoru can't help but wave at him. To call out, get home safe!

A laugh escapes under his breath, a dry, bitter sound. Just shut up, Satoru. But it’s like his mind won’t let him stop. It just keeps playing the same damn scene over and over.

He closes the door quietly, pressing his back against it. Lets out a shaky breath as he sinks down to the cold floor, heart still hammering in his chest, and he wonders if you even noticed him at all tonight.

Of course, you didn’t. You barely know him. You might never look at him that way.

But god, he wishes you would. Just once.

Second Male Lead Syndrome, Yeah.

Yeah, that tracks.

Because you were never going to pick the weird, twitchy nerd who overplans events like this and builds NPC backstories with tragic romances just to feel something. You were never going to pick the guy who practices your character intro alone in his room fifteen times, rehearsing the words in front of a mirror, trying to make it sound casual. Trying to sound like someone who knows what they’re doing. The guy who lit a candle because a Reddit post said vanilla makes people feel comforted, and for a second, he thought it might work. Might make you feel a little more at home.

You were always going to pick the one with the guitar. The one with the voice like honey, deep and effortless, who doesn’t have to try. The one whose touch doesn’t tremble when it’s on your arm, whose hands know exactly where to go without hesitation. The one who stands next to you with a calm that makes it look easy.

Satoru, on the other hand, is all scrambled signals. His heart races whenever you look his way, his mind spirals when he hears your laugh, and yet he can’t seem to say anything that makes sense. All he’s good for is stuttering through words, trying to look cool but always coming across as the awkward guy who thinks too much about the wrong things. His white hair falls into his face, messy strands he constantly pushes out of his eyes with the back of his hand, the motion becoming so habitual now as he feels the back of his hand become damp. His glasses slipping down his nose even though he keeps adjusting them, his thumb swiping over the frames in vain. A perfect image of someone who can never quite get it together.

And his heart? God, his heart is still pounding so hard that it’s all he can hear. Every thump is a reminder that he’s falling for someone who will never fall for him.

Why did nobody warn him this could happen?

Warn that his heart will ache in a place he can’t quite reach.

But it's fine. You both were just simply not meant to be. That's how life works, right?

He starts cleaning up, clumsily, awkwardly, trying to do anything to distract himself from the growing ache in his chest. He grabs the dice first, tossing them a little too forcefully into the velvet bag, the clattering sound loud against the quiet. Then the maps, scrunched and crumpled slightly from too many fingers running over them in nervous gestures. Finally, the snack pile looking more like a sad, squashed dragon than something worthy of a group of excited players. It wasn't worthy for someone like you.

He tries not to think about Suguru’s lack of goodbye. Or the way you didn’t look back when you left. The way your smile seemed to fade the moment you turned away from him. He tries, really tries, but his brain keeps betraying him, whispering that you're already slipping further away.

I just wanted to get to know you.

But no matter how hard he tries to focus on folding the papers, stacking the snacks, all he can hear is the quiet thrum of his own voice whispering in his mind:

I was never the main character, was I?

And it hurts, the pull of his heartbeat, the way it feels like he's running in place while you’re already walking away. Like he’s standing still in a world that keeps turning without him.

So for the first time in a long, long while, after the last chip crumb was swept and the candles were blown out, he didn’t stay up to play League. He didn’t refresh Reddit - not even the post he made about you, about how to win the girl. Didn’t pace around the living room rerunning conversations he wished had gone differently.

Instead, he grabbed his worn white teddy, the one no one knows about, the one he keeps tucked behind his pillows, and curled up in a ball on the far side of his bed. No Twitch stream humming in the background. No playlist lulling him into false peace.

Just silence. And stillness.

And somehow, for the first time in weeks, Satoru fell asleep. Not the jittery kind of rest he was used to, where his thoughts wouldn’t stop spiraling, but real sleep. Deep, heavy, and warm.

He didn’t even hear the chime of your message:

Got home safe! Thank you for today <3 I actually… have had a change of plans for Saturday and I was wondering if we could play a game together? Or we can go outside too! Touch grass as the kids say! :) Let me know! Goodnight Toru

Your name lights up his screen. The little heart. The nickname. The open door.

But he’s already dreaming.

Wrapped around a teddy bear and too heartbroken to know that maybe he was the main character after all.

tag list: @just-pure-trash, @7haze, @nevvynev, @linaaeatsfamilies, @altgojo, @beereadzzz, @bludwrite, @amajikisupremacy, @arabellasolstice, @ky0mybeloved, @aldebrana, @caught-the-feels, @pyruvic, @sukunaspillow, @sbicybb, @vamqyx, @dija200, @g3n3v13v33, @bakarinnie

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[uzurakis]

hi again!! (ik I just sent in a request I just had another one LMFAOOO) im back bc I got another request/idea!! jjk men (..yuta n Megumi 🙏 n whoever else u want :3) who got into a nasty argument (could be from ur argument post but it doesn’t have to be connected to that post!!) and then gets really injured on a mission right after the argument! it’s up to you if reader + jjk men end up making up, or it could end on a angsty route of them anxiously waiting for reader to wake up while trying to think to ways to apologize with regret; doesn’t rlly matter!! do what you want 😛😛

HEY, WAKE UP . . PLEASE?

featuring: fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru. yuuta okkotsu.

n. first, i apologize this one took a very long time because i wanted to carefully hit the right spots and nail the each character. second, i only make 3 characters this time ‘cause each one of them is long enough to read. third, i wanna make you guys suffer <3 enjoy !!

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

megumi’s fingers trembled as he reached out to touch your hand, the memory of his harsh words replaying in his mind. “why didn’t i see it coming?” he muttered to himself, voice hardly above a whisper. the guilt was suffocating, the feeling that he had failed you as a partner, both in life and on the field, gnawing at him relentlessly.

he hadn’t slept since you were brought in, eyes red and heavy, his emerald pupils weren’t evident anymore with the dark circles underneath a testament to his vigil. every beep of the monitors felt like a countdown, each passing second a reminder of how fragile everything was. he kept running through what he could have done differently, how he could have prevented this from happening.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking with emotion, repeating the words tremendously. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry—“

“i’m so sorry. i never meant for this to happen. i never wanted to hurt you.”

his mind was filled with images of your smile, your laughter, and the way your eyes would light up when you were happy. he wanted nothing more than to see you open your eyes, to hear your voice, to have the chance to make things right.

the silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines. megumi’s thoughts were a chaotic jumble of fear and determination. he knew he had to find a way to apologize, to show you that he cared more than he had ever managed to express. but how could he make up for the pain he had caused? how could he prove to you that he was truly sorry?

he squeezed your hand gently, as if the simple touch could convey all the words he struggled to find. “please wake up,” he pleaded softly. “i need to tell you how much you mean to me. i need to show you that i can do better. that i will do better. please, just wake up.”

as the hours dragged on, megumi’s resolve only strengthened. he would make things right, no matter what it took. the door to your room opened, but megumi didn’t look up. his focus was entirely on you, silently willing you to open your eyes. he wouldn’t leave your side until you did. he couldn’t. the weight of his regret was too heavy, his love for you too deep.

“please,” he whispered again, each syllable filled with desperation. “come back to me.”

GOJO SATORU

“you’re always so damn reckless!” gojo had shouted, his voice echoing in the small office.

“maybe if you weren’t so arrogant all the time, you’d understand why!” you had snapped back, feeling the sting of his words cut deep.

now, the same guy sat by your hospital bed, his usually confident demeanor shattered. his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, blood seeping from where his nails dug into his palms. the sight of you lying there, pale and unmoving, tore at his heart. he cursed himself repeatedly, the words tumbling out in a desperate, angry whisper.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he muttered, voice breaking. “why the hell did this have to happen? why couldn’t i fucking save you?”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to give him some sign that you were still there with him. the argument replayed in his mind, each harsh word a dagger in his chest. he wanted to take it all back, to tell you how much he loved you and needed you.

“shit,” he hissed, slamming his fist into the armrest of the chair. “i’m supposed to be the strongest, but what the hell does that mean if i can’t even protect you?”

a hollow aching threatened to eat away at his chest, a gnawing remorse. tears blurred his vision as he looked at you, voice a broken whisper. “wake up. i want to apologize. i want you to know how sorry i am.”

the room was silent except for the steady beep of the heart monitor. gojo’s thoughts were a chaotic swirl of guilt, also his helplessness. he had faced countless curses and enemies without flinching, but this, seeing you like this, was unbearable.

he cursed again, the words raw and filled with pain. “damn it, why didn’t i stop you? why didn’t i fucking do something?”

his mind raced, trying to think of ways to make it right, to fix what had been broken. but all he could do was wait and hope. he reached out, gently taking your hand in his, his grip trembling.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “i love you. please, just wake up. i don’t know what i’ll do if you don’t.”

YUUTA OKKOTSU

yuta, who was normally expressive, was pale and drawn as he sat beside your bed. his voice was crushed by the weight of his remorse, and he was unable to speak. he was completely broken by the sight of you there, so still and vulnerable, in ways he never imagined. his fingers barely touched yours as he extended a shaking hand, fearing that the slightest touch could break you.

memories of the argument replayed in his mind, each moment seared into his consciousness. your angry words echoed in his ears, mingling with his own harsh retorts. he remembered the flash of hurt in your eyes, the way your voice had cracked when you told him you were done talking. he had let you walk away, his anger blinding him to the danger you were about to face.

tears welled up in yuta’s eyes, but he couldn’t let them fall. he had to be strong for you, even though you couldn’t sense a thing. the guilt gnawed at him, a relentless beast that whispered of his failures. he had promised to protect you, to be there for you, and yet here you were, injured and unresponsive, because he had let his anger get the better of him.

“it’s all my fault,” he grumbled, voice barely audible in the sterile room. “i should have stopped you. i should have been there.”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to open your eyes and tell him it was okay. but you remained still, your breathing steady but shallow. yuta’s mind was a storm of regret and self-recrimination. he blamed himself for everything, convinced that his failure to resolve things before you left had led to this. if only he had followed you, things might have been different.

“wake up, please,” he begged, voice breaking. “you can’t do this to me..”

he felt a sob rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down, determined not to break in front of you. he had to be strong, even if it felt like he was falling apart inside. the thought of losing you was unbearable, a gap that threatened to swallow him whole.

“why did i let you go?” he murmured, his fingers tightening around yours. “why didn’t i fight for us?”

the minutes stretched into hours, each one an eternity as yuta sat by your side, his heart heavy with guilt and fear. he couldn’t imagine a life without you, couldn’t bear the thought that he might have lost you because of his own stubbornness.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered again, voice choked with emotion. he stayed there, silent and unmoving, the weight of his regret a constant presence. all he could do was wait and hope, praying that you would wake up and give him the chance to apologize, to tell you how much you meant to him. until then, he would sit by your side, holding on to the hope that you would come back to him.

“i love you. please, just give me a chance to make things right.”

@uzurakis