#i want to make a choice and send them back by the end of the weekend bc i only have two weeks to return. lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojonanami · 7 months

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❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FAKE DATE SATORU GOJO WITH REAL FEELINGS? ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: you can't help but say yes when your longtime crush asks you to be his fake girlfriend for a year to get the gojo clan to stop arranging marriage proposals for him. but little did you know, he would be doing both of you a favor.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is the same age as gojo, set during s1 of jjk, fake dating hijinks, drunk! gojo, jealous! reader + gojo, implied satosugu (sorta, i see it more in a soulmate way, whether its platonic or romantic), switch! gojo, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, naoya makes an appearance, gojo clan elders suck, gojo's made up clan responsibilities,

✧ wc: 16,043

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 6 has been sold to @chuluoyi and an anon!

“C’mon, you don’t know until you try, sweetheart,”

You run at your temples, you didn’t need to feel burgeoning ache of a headache forming to know it was coming — but you knew it would whenever you met with this blue eyed idiot, “Satoru, the last time you said that, you nearly got me killed,” you didn’t care to re-live him sending you on a mission meant for him to take a grade 1 one curse, only to end up fighting two other grade 2 curses along with it.

You were lucky you made it by the skin of your teeth — and lucky that Shoko woke up when you showed up at her door, half dead.

“And this time, there’s no risk of death,” he grins, stirring his sugary drink that counts more as sugar than a drink, “that shows great personal growth, don’t ya think?”

“I think this conversation shows that just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you have an ounce of common sense,” you mutter, as you sip at your drink of choice, “Gojo, I can’t marry you — for one, there would be a risk of death — yours,”

“Eh you wouldn’t be able to kill me — you’re far too—“ and you raise an eyebrow, daring him to finish that sentence, “kind,”

You rolled your eyes, “One of the traits you’re looking for in your future partner?”

“The thing is, you wouldn’t have to marry me at all — it would be a big sham!” He said with a thumbs up, as if that made it any better at all, “just for a couple weeks so I can fool the Gojo Clan into complacency and to stop the search for my future spouse — you’d be sparing the hundreds, no thousands, of possible candidates from facing the burden of my rejection,”

“And I suppose the fact that the clan would get off your back is just a fringe benefit?” You sigh, “Gojo, why don’t you just tell them you don’t want to get married?”

“I’ve tried — but the stubborn old geezers won’t budge — I’m caught between a rock and a hard place — and you know me,” his lips curl, “I’m a lover, not a fighter,”

Yup, you have a headache now.

“What would we have to do to convince them we were together?”

Why were you considering this?

“Dates, a few public outings, meeting the geezers because they would insist, and you would need to show your face around the clan compound,” he lists off, sipping at his drink, “there may be other things, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” You may jump off a bridge by the time this is over and done with, “what do you say?”

“I have two questions,” and he leaned back in his chair, back and forth, impatience personified, “how long would we have to do it?” You didn’t want to be stuck in this arrangement for an undisclosed amount of time, but the second question was far more important, “ And why me?”

“Three months, maybe longer,” you gape at him, “I can pay you?” you raise an eyebrow, “I will pay you,” you sigh, “and choosing you was easy because—“

“If you make some sort of joke about me being single, I don’t care if you have infinity, I’ll find a way to murder you,” you grumble.

“Because you’re a sorcerer, you’re from a minor clan — so you’re an acceptable choice, and I trust you — you’re one of my closest friends,” he adds, for once his words are deprived of any humor.

And that answer was…almost worse than the joke. The word “friend” stuck in your side like a thorn you could never pull out, festering and growing until it had become a part of you — that ached only when you thought of it.

Your feelings for him, they were still there? You thought you had discarded them years ago, thought it was safe for you to move back to Tokyo from Kyoto, thought you had finally left that childhood crush behind — dead and buried — but here it was, still stubbornly clinging to life.

And now it would thrive with new roots, stems, leaves, and buds if you agreed to this.

He said your name, “Well?”

He remains as inscrutable as always, But you could never say no to him, could you? “Okay, fine,” it would also help you out in the form of another problem of Naoya Zenin who had been nothing but persistent since you came back…but you didn’t want to dwell on that. Your eyes find Gojo’s again — as they always did.

It was why you had left for Kyoto in the first place.

“Is this really necessary?” you grumbled, as the servants that served the Gojo clan fussed over your clothes — it was a traditional kimono in the colors of your clan — a deep indigo, embroidered with white koi fish that swam along the fabric, embroidered with waves. You supposed you were only grateful that Gojo didn’t leave you to get dressed yourself.

Gojo watched as they adjusted the obi around your waist, and your eyes remained fixed ahead, but your gaze couldn’t help but wander to him. Satoru Gojo was always unfairly gorgeous — there was a reason people fawned over him even when he had just rolled out of bed without even a once over at his appearance — but those same people probably would have passed out if they saw him as he was now.

His formal wear was a sky blue — the same as his eyes, a coat draped over his shoulders and loose trousers of snow white that was a nod to hair of the same color. His hair remained unkempt as it always was.

“Gonna change into that but not comb your hair?” You remark, and he smirks, running a hand through his hair.

“Well I think if I start being too well behaved, they’ll know it’s fake,” and the word sticks in your chest like a dagger between the ribs, as the servants finally finish with your clothes, and you sigh.

You straighten yourself, looking at yourself in the mirror, “How is it only been a couple hours and I’m already exhausted?”

“The suffocating grip of old geezers and their backwards traditions would do that to you,” but his eyes linger on you, “but lucky for you sweetheart, it seems to suit you,”

“Do you have to call me that?” You murmur, cheeks warming, as you pretend to busy yourself with adjusting your clothes in the mirror.

“You have to get used to it,” his footsteps draw closer, heart battering against your ribcage as he does — surely, it would break free of its bony cage by the end of this, as he slides a shiny pendant around your neck — a sliver infinity with a singular small blue gem glinting in the middle — “after all, you are mine now, aren’t you?”

“Gojo, this is—“

“Satoru,” he reminds you, as his fingers brush against your neck as he clasps the necklace, “how will it look if someone overhears you calling me by my last name in private?” And your fingers brush against the necklace, toying with the pendant as you positioned it properly, “do you like it? I had it made especially,”

Especially — the lack of ‘for you,’ stuck out to you, as you force a smile on your lips, “it’s perfect — it will definitely sell the act,” and your eyes can’t find his as he adjusts his sunglasses, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your blindfold,” you turn to face him, “doesn’t it drain you not to wear it?”

“I can wear sunglasses sometimes — usually I get strange looks if I wear a blindfold in normal society — and here,” he pulls off the glasses as his cerulean irises seem to pierce your very form, “it reminds these old men who holds the cards here,” it was already hard enough for you to meet Gojo’s gaze as it was, it always felt as if he could stare right through you — and now, it felt as it your entire soul was beholden to him, “and as a bonus,” he draws close again, as he holds out his hand for your own. You resist the urge to bite your lip, inside giving your hand as he wished, and he lifts to his lips, before tilting his head to press the back of his hand to your cheek, “now I can look at my beautiful girlfriend unobstructed by these pesky eye coverings,”

You scoff, “You always have something to say, don’t you?” As you try and fail to move your hand away, “Gojo—“

“A good escort should never let their lady walk in without their hand being held, don’t you think?” And you sigh, as he leads you out of the frying pan and into the fire — you only hoped you wouldn’t be burned — your eyes sliding to Gojo again, fingers toying with the fabric over your chest — in more than one way.

“So you’ve gotten yourself a partner, eh, boy?” the elderly man sits with his eyes closed as he sips his tea, steam rolling off the surface in droves, but he seemed unbothered by the heat — perhaps because of the steam coming out of his ears, “I’m shocked,” you kept your gaze down, only had greeting him upon entering — stating your name and clan, before kneeling beside Satoru on a cushion.

“Shocked that someone like me could ever find my match? I know I’m truly one of a kind,” lips curled in that smirk that seemed to annoy almost everyone Satoru Gojo knew — including you — but no one showed the level of irritation that this man showed.

Gojo may be the head of the Gojo clan — but you supposed there were still people he had to answer too, if only due to age and tradition — the two very things Gojo hated the most.

“Why bother respecting those for aging when they haven’t done anything for me to respect?” he had said flippantly to Yaga one day during a lesson, “I rather die young than live to the age of these old coots without accomplishing a damn thing,” and then Yaga firmly smacked Gojo on the head right after, for disrespecting Gakuganji during the sister school exchange event.

And you had a feeling this meeting was about to go as well as that class did.

“Is this serious? Have you proposed?” and you have to keep a straight face, but your cheeks burn.

“Now, don’t embarrass me and my girlfriend,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “but this is serious — she’s the only woman I want to marry — and I’ll do anything to accomplish that,” he leans forward with a smile, squeezing your hand, “because I love her, and I only will ever love her,”

His gaze slides from Gojo to you, eyes boring into your skull, “and do you feel the same?”

You never have been one for lying — lying was an uncomfortable feeling that twisted and turned in your stomach like questionable leftovers that you took a gamble on eating, ones that wanted to come out the same way it went in. But you had learned with time because sometimes it was necessary for a sorcerer to lie, and when it was between telling a lie or dying, you’re forced to become quite adept at things you hate.

And you had learned, as you meet his hardened look, the best lies had some truth ingrained in them.

“I do, Satoru and I went to Jujutsu Tech together, and he’s the only man I ever loved,” perhaps it was too much truth, as you forced your voice to be steady, “he’s frustrating, irritating, full of himself—“

“You don’t have to be that honest—“ Satoru grumbled.

“But he’s also selfless, unendingly kind, a great teacher, and a good person, maybe even the best person I know,” you can’t bear to look at Satoru, “and he’s the only man I want to call my husband,”

The silence lingers in the room for a moment before the old man grunts, “I’ll believe it when I see it,”

“What kind of answer was that?” You asked as Satoru walked you back to the room, his fingers still laced with yours.

“It means we have to make him believe it — but he’ll at least stop arranging these meetings for me with prospectives,”

You raise an eyebrow, “and what will make him believe it?”

He smirks, as he tugs you a little closer, fingers under your chin, “I could kiss you right now, might sell the act,”

“No one can see us,”

“Someone’s always watching,” he murmurs, leaning far too close as your breath catches, eyes widening before they flutter shut and you wait. But instead his lips brush your forehead, followed by a flick, “gotcha,”

Your eyes snap open in a glare, “Gojo!” And he’s cackling.

“Satoru,” he corrects, as his hand leaves yours as he opens the sliding door to the room, “you coming?”

You pout, rubbing your forehead, as you brush past him — this was going to be a long few weeks.

“Why do I even have to go to this?” You were being led through a bustling mall, his arm around your waist, as if to prevent you from escaping (good idea). Your lips twisted in a grimace, you allowed him to drag you along, knowing him, he would carry you over his shoulder without a hint of shame (you don’t think he even contained the word shame in his own vernacular), “can’t you go and wear a ring and go by yourself?”

“A ring is not as good as having you on my arm now is it?” he bumps you with his hip, “plus, we’re not engaged yet, unless this is a proposal,” he raises an eyebrow, and your cheeks burn.

“Shut up, I’d never propose to you,” he laughs, but it’s almost strained.

“Never propose to me like that right? Because I deserve a better proposal than that,” he sighs, leading you into a store, “come on, we have to find you a nice outfit for the wedding,”

You glance at the store, your jaw dropping, “Gojo, this store is so expensive, I can’t afford this—“

He lowers his sunglasses just to show you that he’s rolling his eyes, “Who said you’re paying, Princess?” You stare at him, slack jawed, while a salesperson comes up to the two of you — though she’s clearly only interested in one of you.

“Hi, what can I help you with finding today?” her lips curled in a smile, as she twirled a strand of her around her fingers, “I’d be more than happy to assist you,” her gaze completely fixed on Gojo, without the slightest hint of acknowledgment for you to spare.

You bite back a scowl, plastering on a fake smile, as you lean into Gojo, “My boyfriend is looking to buy me an outfit for a wedding we’re attending — baby, could you tell her what style you want me to wear?”

Gojo glances at you, a flicker of surprise that is quickly covered up by a smirk, his arm tightening around your waist, “Yes, I have to make sure my sweetheart is looking her best — so can you please find these styles of dresses for me?” You can’t help the smile on your lips as the salesperson shuffles away, lips a thin line rather than the grin she once had.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Gojo chuckles, and you roll your eyes, hoping your expression didn’t give your heart away, the feelings you had stuffed into a crevice of your chest that threatened to burst.

So you choose to turn it on him instead, as you meet his gaze with a small smirk, “I don’t like people taking what’s mine,”

But he only takes it in stride, only as Gojo can, “I’m yours, huh?”

You shrug, choosing to hurt yourself rather than let him do it, “at least for the next two to three months,” and your gaze snaps away and looks to the saleswoman as she comes back with a selection, “if you get to choose my dress, I get to choose a suit for you, deal?”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, but smiles, “Anything for you, princess.”

“You just wanted to see me model for you, didn’t you?” Gojo emerges from the changing room in a black button down and white suit coat with a matching white tie — as he tilts his head, “I would say my best suit is my birthday suit,” and you grimace, “oh c’mon, it was a good joke, although—“

“Don’t say it’s true,” you lean back, phone in hand as you snap a picture as you did for the last three, “I love to see that self confidence of yours has grown into full blown arrogance,”

“How can I not be arrogant when I see you snapping pictures of me?” He crosses his arms, the fabric taut and straining over his chest, the top button undone, showing off the adam’s apple that bobs in his throat, “it’s definitely a step up from when you ignored me,”

You snap from your thoughts, “When did I ignore you?”

“When we graduated Jujutsu Tech, you’d spend time with Nanami or spend a weekend with Shoko, but whenever I was around, you wouldn’t even reply to a text,” your eyes fall to the floor, chewing your lip, “it wasn’t always like that — I thought we were close,”

It was true — but it wasn’t because you hated him. It was the opposite. You had tried to be his friend, but the more you were his friend, the more it hurt — hurt to see him smile at you like everyone else, hurt to see him with his eyes on the one he wanted, and with his arm around Suguru.

And you really didn’t hate Suguru — it was the opposite really — you thought they were perfect, a person who grounded him, made him a better person, and with a much tighter grip on reality than Gojo did — perhaps too tight. Too tight that it shattered apart in his hands, the pieces too far gone to pick out — and too far gone to save him.

You tried to be there for him — knock on his door when you knew he was home and force him to shower while you and Shoko cleaned up his room. You stayed even when Shoko had long left, holding his hand as he hid his tears from you with his back turned, and you didn’t admit you could hear his nearly silent tears. But eventually, it turned into movie nights, meals shared, and even grocery runs.

And it became harder and harder to hide how you felt — each minute spent with him was another drop in a bucket that was already overflowing to begin with. At first it had been a crush — an unattainable crush that you were happy to leave at just that. But eventually, it became so much more — you had fallen in love with him, when you really shouldn’t have. Because he didn’t need a partner — he needed a friend.

“Gojo, I didn’t ignore you—“

“I’ve called you sweetheart, did your number change and then magically change back when you came back to Tokyo?”

But once he had pulled himself together, you were graduating and you requested to be put in Kyoto — your excuse being you were tired being in the city — but to Satoru, you gave no excuse, you quietly left without a word. Because you were really tired of having your heart broken — so you needed space, and you were willing to do anything to get it.

“Gojo, I didn’t really talk much to Nanami or Shoko when I left either, I just needed space—“

“Space from what?” You sighed, parting your lips when his phone rings. He checks it before taking it, “another mission? Yeah, I can leave tonight,” you bit your lip, “send Ijichi to take me to the airport. Yeah, ok,” and he hangs up, “we’ll have to cut this short. I have to go overseas,”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Probably just a few days. I’ll be back soon,” you bite your lip, and he tilts his head, “you worried about me, Princess?”

You flush, opening and closing your mouth, “I am,” and he blinks, seemingly surprised, “come back safe. Text me to let me know when you land,”

His lips curl, as he ruffles your hair, “I will — and I’ll be back soon enough. Promise,” and he pauses, “you want a souvenir?”

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to,” he cuts you off, and your cheeks warm.

And just then, he gets a text, “Ijichi Is almost here. I’ll have him drop you back first,” and he turns to change out of his clothes.

“Satoru,” you catch him by the sleeve, and he pauses, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you after all of that. It had nothing to do with you, there was just a lot going on—“ he says your name, but you shake your head, “but it won’t happen again, I promise,”

“Good,” he steps back into the changing room, a grin on his lips, “I wouldn’t let you get away this time anyway, sweetheart.”

“Gojo?” You say again, and he tilts his head, “get the indigo suit,”

He grins, “and you have good taste, well, of course you do,” he holds the door open, “I am your boyfriend after all.”

And the door of the fitting room swings shut, and you hope he’s not looking at you, as your cheeks burn, your heart squeezing in spite of every thought of your mind telling not to go there — not to go down that road, but you should have known, the moment you said yes to this plan—

You were already there.

You had never known that the buzz of your phone could make you more happy — or anxious.

But it had been over the course of the last few days. Because you’re probably an idiot, but that wasn’t the point.

how bad of an idea would it be for me to try this Karanga and Chapati place that Yuta recommended?

You snorted, Satoru, the last time you had curry — that wasn’t even that spicy, you couldn’t taste anything for a week.

Another buzz, But Yuta said it’s not so bad

You roll your eyes, imagining the pout he undoubtedly has on his lips — Yuta has never seen you cry over a bowl of curry — stick with your desserts, and you chuckle as you add: you may be the strongest but you have the weakest taste buds

It takes some time for another response to come — and when it does, you realize a grave error on your part was made: never point out any flaw to this idiot because he will take it as a challenge.

This is Yuta — Gojo-sensei tried it and he’s now in the bathroom. He told me to tell you he’d text you later.

This was how the last few days flew by — texts with updates about his mission, his work, and his check-ins with Yuta. And the night before he was flying back, just as you were cooking dinner, he called you—

“Gojo? Isn’t it 2:00 AM there right now?”

“You learned the time difference for me?” you heard his words slur over the other line, “Sweethearttttt,” I went out with Yuta and Miguel, and I may have gotten a littttttle tipsy,”

“Isn’t it like 2:00 AM there?”

He clicks his tongue, “Miguel challenged me to a drinking contest,” and you groan, rubbing a hand down your face, “but they got me back into my hotel room, even though I’m not tired,” he mumbles, as you hear the crinkle of his bedsheets and the rustling of his comforter.

“Have you drank water? How much alcohol did you have?”

“Are you worried about me?” he giggles, before sighing, “I’m glad,”

“Why are you glad?” You hold the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you stir the pan with your dinner currently in it.

“Because it means you care about me,” he murmurs, “everyone who cares about me always leaves,” he gives a small bitter chuckle, “maybe it’s better for you not to care about me. It’s dangerous to care about someone like me — the type to die young or live far too long,”

“Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he mutters, voice growing thick with sleep, “call me Satoru,” and his soft snores fill your ear as he falls into the sandman’s grasp — a small reprieve from his feelings — while you were left to dwell in them.

All this time you had been thinking how you felt, what you were dealing with, what you wanted — and all these years and you hadn’t thought about how your actions made him felt. You thought he was beyond any hurt you could possibly inflict — his infinity meant that he was leagues above anywhere you could possibly reach — but it didn’t.

He wasn’t. He was a person — and when had you stopped treating him as one?

You texted Yuta: make sure your sensei is lying on his side and make him drink some water. And don’t let Miguel goad him into drinking ever again.

Yuta: got it. sorry about that sensei — gojo wouldn’t listen

You scoffed, chuckling at how Yuta called you sensei but did not afford Gojo the same courtesy.

You stayed on the phone with Gojo, hearing Yuta come in and persuading him to drink some water, before he fell back asleep, but even in his drunken state, he wouldn’t give up his phone — Yuta snapping a picture and sending it to you. You laughed when you saw it — loml with a dozen hearts and a picture of you in your obi, clearly taken when you weren’t looking, but it wasn’t those things that made you laugh — it was the way Gojo clung to his phone, fingers wrapped around it desperately, as he slept.

You stayed on the phone with him all night, even when you went to bed — of course just to make sure he’s fine — the call waking you when it disconnected after reaching the max call time. Your eyes flutter open, glancing at the time — 5:00 AM. And almost like clockwork, your phone rings again, Gojo’s number flashing on your screen.

You pick up, “Mm, hello?” you yawn, “finally awake sleeping beauty?”

“Glad you finally decided to acknowledge my beauty,” his voice is gravelly, thick with sleep, and god, you can’t help but imagine waking to this voice every day — “ugh I have a headache,” he murmurs, the crumple you hear must be him burying his face in his pillow because the next question he asks is muffled, “why were we on the phone?”

“You called me last night after drinking, and refused to hang up after Yuta helped you get settled,” you chuckle, as you hear his groan over the phone, “I got a new contact picture for you out of it, love of my life,”

“Glad you’re finally on board,” he mutters, growing quiet, “why didn’t you hang up?”

You pause, “what do you mean?” You ask slowly.

“You could’ve hung up at any time, but you stayed on the phone, even when you fell asleep,” his voice was soft, “why?”

“I just,” you bit your lip, you couldn’t lie to him, at least not completely, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and you didn’t want to hang up — so I didn’t,”

He’s silent for a moment, and you almost wish you could sink into the Earth — but he only says, “okay, now what’s the plan for the day, Princess?”

Your lips curl, “Well my day has not really began yet since it’s 5:00 AM here, so I’m probably going to sleep for several hours and wake up at an hour that is not bereft of god,”

“You really couldn’t just say ‘ungodly?’” He snorts.

“Well, 5:00 AM makes me wax poetic, what can I say?” Another yawn parts your lips, “I’m going to sleep,”

But he doesn’t hang up, “I’ll be here, sweetheart.”

You glanced at the time, he’s late.

Well, he wouldn’t be Gojo if he didn’t make an entrance. You slumped on the couch — even if he was getting home from his mission, there was no guarantee he’d stop by your place to see you. He might want to just go home — or stop by Jujutsu Tech, or be anywhere else. You couldn’t have expectations — expectations were only a way to be disappointed, a drop from soaring that would only be met with the impact of the cold, unforgiving ground.

Especially expectations from a fake relationship. You lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling — why were being such an idiot about this? The TV drones on in the background, illuminating the dark of the living room, as you sit barely paying attention to a random rom com you had picked.

Maybe it was because Satoru had spent the rest of today on the phone with you, even through a security check (warning the security officers not to hang up his call) and at the gate. And then every day after that, he had called and texted you like clockwork — stupid things— good morning and good night, random memes that made him think of you, pictures of his day (including ones of him messing with his students), questions of what sweet you wanted from the shop he had decided to frequent, calls about your day and his own, and hours long conversations about nothing at all. Maybe because you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to you — or maybe it was because you were just down bad.

It was probably the latter.

You take a throw pillow and pull it over your face. What were you thinking? Falling for your old crush and fake boyfriend a night before a wedding was a trope in a bad rom com that you spent your weekend night watching — it shouldn’t be how you feel.

“That’s a nice look,” you jump, pulling the pillow away, to be met with Gojo’s gaze hidden behind another pair of sunglasses, “honey, I’m home,”

You bite back your smile, “one, this isn’t your home, and two, how did you get inside?”

“It’s pretty easy when you can teleport, you should try it sometime,” he sits beside you, more like collapses as he falls into the couch, his head resting against the top, “although if someone moved in with me, it’d be much easier,” and you laugh.

“Shouldn’t you ask a girl out before you ask her to move in?” he shrugs, his arm resting across the top of the couch.

“I’m anything but traditional,” he sighs, glancing at the TV, “what are we watching?”

“A bad rom com,”

He snorts, “watching it to mercilessly pick it apart?” And you raise an eyebrow, “what? I did stay awake for some of those movies— it was some of my favorite memories during that time and some of the only times I could actually sleep,”

“Yeah, it was a nice way for both of us to turn our brains off for a bit,” you glanced at him, “thought it’d be nice for us too,” his gaze slides to you curiously, “I know there’s been a lot on your mind — with itadori and the special grades,”

He sighs, running fingers through his hair, “Yeah, old geezers seem to cause problems in all parts of my life,” you snort, “can’t believe they’d try to do away with Itadori while I was gone,”

“They don’t see anyone as innocent — they see whether you’re an asset or a threat, unfortunately, they see Itadori not as the former,” you shake your head, as your eyes stare at the movie flashing on the screen, but you don’t really watch, “they’re too far gone to see the innocence of children,”

“You sound like Kento,” and your eyes meet his, his cerulean gaze already on you, his sunglasses discarded on your coffee table.

“Funny, thought I sounded like you,” he blinks a moment, “Satoru, you’re all about preserving the youth of children — that’s why you saved Megumi, Yuta, and Yuji — even when you had every reason not to,”

“How could I not? Youth belongs to the young after all,” a wistful smile on his lips, “i don’t want the same to happen to them that happened to us,”

“To us,” you repeat, a sharp pain sticks between your ribs at the flash of Haibara’s smile and the whisper of Suguru’s laugh, “more like to them,”

“Yeah,” a silence falling over the two of you as the white noise of the TV filled the quiet, “but sometimes I think we went down along with them,”

You shake your head, “I think a part of us did — a part of us will stay there—“ frozen in time and seeping like poison in our bones, “but we’re still here,” you risk to toe the line you’d never cross, your fingers brushing his, “and it’s not over for us,”

And his eyes flicker to your fingers threaded with his, as his fingers squeeze yours slowly, the corner of his lips quirk upwards, as you stretch and sit up, fingers falling away from his, a yawn on your lips, “should we get some sleep?”

“Come on, let’s finish the movie,” he murmurs, even though sleep seems to weigh heavily on his body, eyelids fluttering shut as he turns to you, cheek pressed against the couch, “hey,” he murmurs, “it wasn’t the movies that let me relax,” and you can hear the unspoken meaning in those words — but that was the problem.

It was unspoken.

Your fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to brush your fingers against his cheek — but you can’t.

You’d allowed yourself to toe the line you’d long drawn in the sand that you’d built into a wall — you had even allowed yourself to stir a few bricks from its place, but you couldn’t cross it. Not now.

Your eyes are growing heavy. Maybe not ever.

Your neck hurts.

The first thought you have as you rouse into aching consciousness. Why was it so bright? Did you forget to draw your curtains? You draw an arm over your face, already dreading the waking hours, until you realize it’s your day off, and you sigh, relaxing into your bed.

Or what you thought was your bed.

Except your bed couldn’t move, nor could it pull you closer. But now something or someone was, an arm around your waist with movement behind you that made breath warm your ear. And you probably would have screamed, if you hadn’t heard the familiar voice whisper your name in your ear.

Gojo.

Gojo???

Your head slowly turned to be met with the strongest sorcerer very much passed out, half behind you, half on top of you — his blue eyes hidden under his eyelids for once instead of any covering that he used to protect himself. His snowy white locks brushed against your skin, the close proximity doing nothing to alleviate your feelings — you had only hoped you could see one flaw, one ick, and maybe you’d be done. But on Satoru Gojo? The man born to be perfect — the same one who sang karaoke for the first time as a teen only to be so incredible that it moved your server to tears?

You really should have fucking known better.

Your breath caught, and you wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment—if no one had, you would surely be the first case. You were always a trail blazer.

And you tried to shift again, if only to maneuver yourself out of this situation, but he moved along with you, seeking out the contact he was losing. And this only ended with him lying on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, and his legs straddling one of your legs— and then you felt it — a very distinct bulge pressed against your thigh.

Fuck. Your. Life.

He mumbled in his sleep, nose brushing against the hollow of your neck, drawing another shiver from your body. You had a rare opportunity to touch him — didn’t you, no infinity between the two of you — just him and you. You were in a position probably many desired to be in — admirers and enemies alike (neither category being mutually exclusive). You supposed old habits die hard — and so did old crushes.

Could you let yourself enjoy this for a moment? Enjoy the feeling, no matter how real it never would be? Maybe it was wrong, but — your eyes fluttered shut as your arm wrapped loosely around Gojo — you certainly didn’t want to be the one to wake up first.

And you weren’t — your eyes flutter open to movement, and your eyes meet cerulean eyes, lips parted in surprise, “Morning,” he manages, a flush of pink coloring his cheeks, “did we fall asleep?”

“I guess we did,” you bite your lip, “are you going to—”

And he blinks, before scrambling off of you, “Sorry,” he mumbles, as he turns away to fidget with his phone.

“Guess that was one very boring movie,” you murmur.

“Or I was in a very comfortable bed,” he replies with a smirk that turns to a grimace.

“What is it?”

“Naoya Zenin is making an appearance at the wedding we’re attending tomorrow,” and you groan, as he raises an eyebrow, “how many proposals had he made you?”

You scoff, “Proposals? More like propositions,” you shake your head, already aching from the sleep you had barely shaken off and now it had graduated to a shooting pain that made your eye twitch at the thought of that man, “he’s offered to do me the ‘honor’ of being the next heir’s husband half a dozen times. If he ever becomes the head of the Zenin clan, I may help Maki annihilate them myself,”

Naoya Zenin — the most pretentious and egocentric man you had the displeasure of meeting. Even his pretty face could do nothing to fix his hideous personality ridden with misogyny, hatred, and spite. And you’d been offered his hand in marriage half a dozen times due to your lineage in a lesser known clan family with a unique cursed energy. It was a strategic move to try and secure his place — as was every move he made — he had no room for anyone he deemed useless to his plan.

Unfortunately, you did not fall into that special category.

“That won’t happen,” Gojo replies, texting on his phone, “plus, he’s too weak to force that to happen — not to mention he’s a first class prick,”

“You say that, but you basically propositioned me,” you teased, as his eyes flit up from his phone, as you rise from the couch, “quite the proposal you came to me with,”

He pauses a moment, a small smile on his lips, “one, i don’t recall proposing, and trust me that’s something I’d remember,” and you roll your eyes, “and two, aren’t you just as bad, since you said yes, sweetheart?”

“Can you blame a girl wanting a little extra money?” And he locks his phone, drawing close, your breath catching as he lets himself linger for a second too long.

“Can you blame a man for wanting a beautiful and intelligent woman?” And he’s leaning close, but he leans back, only grabbing his coat from the couch, still slung over as it had been. He spares you a smirk at your bewildered expression, “close your mouth, you’ll catch flies, princess, and what a shame that would be,” you scowl, and he laughs as he heads to the door, slipping on his shoes, with a final glance and grin thrown over his shoulder as he opened your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Right. Tomorrow. The wedding.

Fuck. You were so screwed.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Fuck. You scrambled from your vanity as you finished putting the finishing touches on your look for tonight. You didn’t think Satoru Gojo of all people could ever be on time, but you supposed there was a first time for everything.

You slipped the dress over your head, careful not to smear your makeup or mess up your hair. You were starting to regret not having the Gojo family’s attendants get you ready for this event, if only so you could have turned your mind off for this time. But you knew all too well that your mind could never give you a break — with all of that free time came free real estate for your anxiety to set up camp and put down roots for all the things that could possibly go wrong. So it was better this way, as you reach for the ties on the back of your dress — of course, maybe if you had let yourself be helped, you could actually have someone to tie your corset back on this dress.

Another knock.

“Sweetheart?” You hear Gojo’s muffled voice through the door, “you’re not planning on standing me up are you?”

You stumble your way to the door, clutching the back of your dress, as you take a breath and throw it open, “Can you tie the back of my dress?”

Fuck. He looked gorgeous. His hair was parted and combed off to the side, a deep blue suit coat and a crisp white collared shirt tucked into a matching suit pant. A pair of sunglasses were tucked into the chest pocket of his jacket in front of a white pocket square.

“No hello, ‘can you tie my dress?’” Gojo tilts his head, his eyes graze over your appearance, as he steps inside and closes the door behind him, “turn around,” And you do, fingers still clutching at the fabric at the back of your dress, cheeks burning as you do, “gonna have to let go, and let me help you, sweetheart,”

You slowly let go, but his warm fingers brush against the skin of your bare back as he holds the dress up from slipping, carefully lacing the corset, “I was right, blue is your color,” he murmurs, as he tugs lightly at the strings, “let me know when it’s tight enough,”

“It’s good now,” you sigh — though the corset wasn’t as tight as your chest now, you face him now, trying to adjust your hair.

“Let me,” one hand cups your chin gently, your breath catching and you can only hope he can’t feel your pulse through your skin. His fingers run through your soft tresses, your eyes unable to meet his — but you wonder if he can see right through you anyway — “you’ve never been good at asking for help,”

“Look who’s talking,” you glare at him, as he chuckles, “well, I asked you didn’t I?”

“Why did you ask me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I’m sure you could have asked anyone,”

“Well, I didn’t want just anyone,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the blush you had lined your cheeks with, “I wanted you,”

“Why?” And he parts his lips, a soft smile that pulls at his features — was it a hint of pink across his cheeks.

“Because—“ and your phone goes off — a reminder with the time of the wedding. And the moment’s broken, as reality settles over you again, “We’ll be late,”

“I don’t mind being late,” and a heat burns from his touch, from the tips of your fingers to the his fingers leave your cheek, warmth fading as quickly as it came, but he offers his hand, “but if it’s for you, I can be on time,” and your fingers find his, interlacing, before he tugs you close, his arm around your waist, “as long as you stay by my side.”

You never were one for weddings. At least not one like this.

A stuffy event held in an extravagant manner — a large banquet hall for the reception, but now the guests roamed the gardens the hall opened out into — lush greenery serving as a perfect backdrop for this wedding — a distant branch of the Zenin family was marrying, which meant all of the main clans were invited to attend. Including several elders of the Gojo clan.

And now you were being subjected to this as well — several dozen eyes on you — all due to the man whose arm you were on. His arm wrapped almost protectively around your waist, his lips nearly brushed against your ear when he whispered in it, letting you know just exactly who was coming over.

“I didn’t think you were one to care for remembering these things,” you wave at the couple that just left the two of you, his fingers grazing the skin behind your ear as he tucked a stray strand behind it.

“I usually don’t care, but I know it’d make you uncomfortable otherwise, especially among all these people,” he smirks, his fingers finding yours, and squeezing, “plus, we need to make a good impression, don’t we?”

“I think we’re making an impression just by being together,” you murmur, and he raises an eyebrow, “everyone’s staring — didn’t you notice?” and he shrugs, a sly smile on his lips.

“Didn’t notice,” he tilts his head, his eyes fixed on you, “I was too busy looking elsewhere, I guess,”

Your cheeks burn, but as your lips part to respond, you see him walking over to the discreet corner you had parked yourselves in, “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, your fingers tightening around his.

Naoya Zenin strides over in a black yukata kimono, his silver hair pushed back, his lips twisted in a slimy smile that made your skin crawl, your name leaving his lips, “it’s been far too long, you’re looking lovely,” his eyes raked over you like hot coals, “though the company you keep—”

“Has improved markedly,” Satoru’s lips curl in a grin, “do you have business with my girlfriend?”

Naoya raises an eyebrow, “Girlfriend?”

Satoru’s arm tightens around your waist, “I didn’t realize you went hard of hearing — I know your hair had started to go, but your hearing too—” you hid your snort poorly, Naoya’s sharp gaze flickering between the two of you.

“I’m younger than you are, and my hair is bleached,” he snaps, “or are those six eyes not sharp enough to see that as well? They certainly aren’t enough for you to have found Suguru Geto before he caused a war,”

And Satoru’s hurt is imperceptible — a hint of hurt that only shows in the tightness of his jaw for a millisecond, before he’s only giving another laugh.

“At least I am already the head of my clan, because even if I were without my six eyes,” he smirks, but a certain meanness pulls at his features, “I’m still not as weak as you are—”

Naoya’s expression sours, curdled into a foul scowl, “What did you—”

“Alright,” you hold up your hands, “Let’s save the dick measuring contest for later, okay? This is a wedding, let’s not cause a scene, ok?” you glance between the two of them, and Satoru pouts — while Naoya seems all too pleased, a grin broken across his lips.

“This is why you’re the perfect woman — you know how to mediate between men’s egos, and—”

“Naoya, I said let’s not cause a scene, and you’re two steps away from me causing one right now,” you snap, “I wasn’t interested the first dozen times you asked me when I was single, so why would you think I’d be interested now, when I have a boyfriend?”

His face flushes red, and you’re not sure whether it’s in anger or embarrassment, “I doubt you’re even really a couple,” he hisses, “I know all about the proposals that this idiot has been getting and the pressure to marry,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m sure you’ll come running to me once he’s done using you—“

Satoru surges forward, but you press a hand against his chest, “We don’t need to justify our relationship to you, so think what you want — but even if Satoru and I break up, I rather die single than ever spend a minute with you,” and you look at Satoru, your gaze softening, “and I rather spend be single for the rest of my life than spend another minute without him,” and you slide your eyes back to Naoya, his fists clenched, as you lean in, “so fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the staff begin to wave everyone into their seats, and the wedding begins. The two of you sit, a silence falling over as others take their seats beside you. A subtle tension as music filled the air and the wedding proceedings began—but you could have cared less— god what the fuck had you said to Naoya? How had Gojo taken it? Does he know how you feel? Does he think it’s an act?

Then his fingers find yours, “Thank you,” he whispers softly, managing only those two words before the wedding begins.

And it dawns on you — it wasn’t what you said, it was the fact you had defended him, your heart aches, it was the fact you had defended him when Naoya insulted Suguru.

Your eyes stay fixed forward as the ceremony begins — it was never about you — as you pulled your fingers away from him.

Like it always never was.

The wedding ceremony goes by — as does the reception, without much to-do. The only silver lining is that there’s far too much small talk for the two of you to have a moment to talk alone, especially when the two of you spot the Gojo clan elders side-eyeing you from the table of old folks, not to mention Naoya hovering around that same table, the same scowl on his face. The only remark that Satoru whispered as the two of you floated by the table pointedly, a smirk on his lips as he waved and held you close to his side — “one quick hollow purple could solve my problems,”

You gave a forced chuckle at that — unfortunately not yours.

And finally, the two of you head home — in relative silence, the drive being short to Gojo’s apartment, where your car was parked. You sigh as he pulls in, “I’ll head out I guess—”

“Why don’t you just stay the night?” and your gaze snaps to his, the first time all night, “it’s really late, and I have a guest room—”

“My apartment isn’t—”

“Your apartment isn’t far, but I thought we could…talk,” and your heart gallops to a start — talking was the last thing you wanted to do.

“What is there to talk about?” And his fingers brush against your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Maybe about why you can’t meet my eyes?” You huff, looking away.

“Can you blame me? Your blue eyes are freaky,” you grumble, and you can hear the judgment in the silence, a first for Gojo, “Gojo, what do you want me to say?”

He stays quiet for a moment, “You don’t have to say anything, just come inside,” So you do — following him inside, the silence hanging over you like a guillotine waiting to slice, “Thank you for what you said—“

The door clicks behind him, as you stop, “Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you’re shaking your head.

“You don’t have to thank me, I was just—“

“But what you said—“

“I said what I had to—“

“You didn’t have to say all that, Princess,” his voice grows soft, “you know you didn’t,” and he’s drawing closer across his living room.

“He was upsetting you,” you murmur, eyes unable to find his again, falling instead to his plush carpet laid against his hardwood, “I couldn’t stand by and let him — I know it hurt when he brought up Suguru—“

“Suguru?” he repeats, and your eyes find his, finally, and you find his brow furrowed, “is that what you think I was thanking you for?”

“What else would you—“ and he’s stepping even closer, your breath stuck in your throat as his fingertips graze your cheek again, “Satoru—“

“Did I mention how beautiful you looked tonight?” he murmurs, a soft chuckle in his voice, “you always look beautiful, but tonight in particular, I couldn’t take my eyes off you,”

“You don’t have to—“

“That’s just it, I don’t have to,” his palm slides against your cheek, “I want to — I want to when it’s you,”

“But, i can’t do this, not like this,” tears burn at the corners of your eyes, water threatening to spill out of a too full glass that had been full for far too long, “not when it will give me—“ you cut yourself off before you cut your own heart out, but he’s only forcing the scalpel back into your hand.

“Give you what?”

And you can’t turn back now — you’d turned from this road far too many times, sprinted in the opposite direction only to end up here again — you needed to do this, even if it lead to a dead end cliff, “Give me the wrong idea,” and you’re turning away, but his hand catches you by the wrist, “stop, I—“

“It’s not the wrong idea,” and you stop.

No, it was. It was, right?

“Satoru—“ and his fingers find your own, as he steps closer, “please, don’t—“

“If you want me to really stop and forget about this, I will,” he murmurs, “I’ll turn around and open the door and let you go home right now, sweetheart. I won’t bring this up again,” but you don’t move away, you don’t say anything, so he continues, “but if you don’t want that, and you want the same thing I do—“

“And what is it that you want?” And you hear his soft chuckle, his cheek brushing against you, as his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I thought that was obvious, but I guess I’ll have to spell it out for you,” he squeezes your hand, as he guides your face to look back at him, his lips curled in a small smile, “I want you,”

Your breath is shaky, no, no — he doesn’t mean that, “No you don’t,”

He tilts his head, “You don’t think I don’t know what I want?”

“Satoru, I don’t want to be a substitute for others—“

And his hands are sliding around your middle, pulling you closer, “You think I could ever think of you as a second choice?”

“But—“ and every doubt from when you were younger wells up, every fear of not being enough — but they are erased away, crumbled into dust, by the way he looks at you — entire multitudes of skies all made to look at you.

“You keep finding reasons not to do this,” and his fingers skim your cheek, before resting under your chin, “but have you tried finding a reason why we should?”

“Satoru—“ you can’t help but lean into his touch — god, he was a temptation personified — everything you ever wanted, even when you tried not to want it. These feelings were never fake — so why not give in? Just this once. Your fingers slide against his cheek, and you can feel his skin burn under your touch, “do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“No, sweetheart,” he leans in even closer, your breaths becoming one, “but I’d love to find out,”

His lips brush yours — it’s chaste, hesitant, testing the waters — he tastes like sugar, and you almost laugh — he tastes like the frosting from the wedding cake that he had swiped a slice of on the way out that he finished before you two had reached his car. His eyes flutter open for half a second, before your lips are crashing to his this time — a new record for addiction? A second maybe and you were too far gone.

His hands cup your cheeks, one sliding to the back of your neck, as the other slides down to your waist to pull you ever closer.

“Did you find it out?” You murmur between kisses, lips meeting and parting if only to allow you both a breath. And his snowy eyelashes flutter, as his lips quirk upwards.

“Think I need another,” and his lips swallow any coherent thoughts you have, his hands slipping down your sides, lips parting again, “another,” he murmurs, a kiss, “another,”

“How many do you need?” you ask breathlessly, a chuckle caught in your throat, and his lips press desperate kisses along your jaw, a smirk against your skin.

“Is infinity an answer?” And you laugh, “have to take responsibility — I’m addicted to you,”

“And if I’m addicted?” His hands squeeze your hips, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“I’d be more than happy to take responsibility for you, Princess — always have,”

Your heart beats against the bars of its cage, threatening to burst out — but you couldn’t — not without knowing, “And if you break my heart?”

“I won’t ever break your heart,” he leans down to press butterfly kisses to your cheek, “but even if I do, I’ll put it back together,”

“Promise?” You murmur, and his lips meet yours again, and again, as he’s leading you towards his bedroom, his fingers running through your hair.

And the door to his bedroom swings shut, “Promise.”

“How long are you going to tease me?” you’re grumbling, cheeks hot and eyes averted, the back of your hand pressed against your lips, as Satoru presses needy kisses along your neckline of your dress.

He looks up at you through his snowy lashes, and you don’t know if you want to slap the smile off his lips or kiss it off, “You’ve been teasing me for years, you can’t give me this time, sweetheart?” His teeth graze the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “plus, do y’know how fun it is to watch you squirm?”

Slap. It’s definitely a slap.

“You’re insufferable,” and he smirks when your breath catches when his lips ghost over the swell of your chest.

“Yet you’re the one who's under me—“ and you try to get up only for him to pin you back down, a pout on his lips, “alright, alright, can’t blame me for wanting to see you squirm, Princess, how many chances will I get?”

“Only this one if you keep this up,” and he’s finding your lips in a languid kiss, an apology with no words, a smile filled with affection that only made it hard for you to feign annoyance.

“Then I better make this count,” he’s gently helping you up, turning you around to undo your corset strings — but you wonder if he’s undoing it or tangling it, “why did we choose a dress with such a complicated back?” It’s his turn to grumble and it only draws a giggle from you.

“Surprised you haven’t hollow purple’d it by now,”

“Trust me if you weren’t in it, I would have,” he sighs, as the fabric begins to loosen up, slipping off your shoulders.

“And here I thought you were good at everything,” you chuckle as he helps you shimmy out of the dress, the fabric falling away from you in a small pool around your ankles. Pools of blue rake over your exposed body, raising goosebumps in its wake, as your arms reflexively try to cover yourself, but his hands find your own, easing them away.

“I’m good at what counts, Princess,” he kisses your wrist, pulse jumping under his touch, nose brushing against it, he hovers over you, as he undoes his tie, fingers tugging at the knot, as he undoes the top button of his shirt, “and I’ll show you.”

~~~~

Satoru had dreamed of this — of you and him. He knew when he realized it — although it was too late when he did. Maybe it was the night before you left — the night after graduation — before you left — you had fallen asleep watching the movie you had put on. Your lips parted and mouth ajar, your eyes fluttered shut, and you were out. He had leaned over to grab his phone to snap a picture to tease you with later, only for your fingers to grab onto him, your head on his shoulder, a quiet murmur of his name.

“Satoru,” — not Gojo, as you had always called him. And he knew he wanted to hear you say it again and again. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair away, his head leaning against yours.

Suguru was everything to him for a time — he had come to Satoru at a time where he thought no one else would ever be able to understand him. No one else would be able to reach him — because how does a person reach for a god? But here you were — and the way your head rested on his shoulder and your lips said his name made him want nothing more than you by his side.

And when you left — you didn’t reply to his messages, you disappeared, just like everyone else did in his life. He was always left alone in the end — maybe it was his fate.

But then you came back — came back almost right after Suguru left for good. And that part of his heart that was meant for you began to thrive again and again — as he spent more time with you.

And god, when his clan started to pressure him to find someone to marry — he wrote them off as he always did. He thought he could ride out the ridiculous proposals and dates they had arranged for him — but as he thought more about who he wanted to spend his time with, who he wanted to see after a tiring mission, and who he couldn’t imagine being without —-

And he realized it was you.

“Satoru, don’t tease me,” you pouted, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, legs spread for him, his eyes flirting between your all too cute expression and the growing wet patch on your panties, “fuck, please—“

“Gonna have to tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, his arm hooked under your knee, your foot pressed against his back, “where do you want me?”

“You fuck-er—“ the last syllable is a gasp as he kisses your sensitive clit through your soaked underwear, “Toru—“ a whine leaves your throat.

Fuck, you’re so cute, his fingers toy with the elastic of your panties — and all of this was worth it, worth it to see if these feelings were what he thought they were, worth it to make you smile, and worth to end up with you.

“How can I refuse you when you say my name like that?” he’s tugging your underwear away, exposing your sipping cunt to a rush of air and his warm breath, “all this f’me, baby?” You mumble something he can’t quite make out, “what was that?”

Your glassy eyes look up at him, blown wide with lust, “Only f’you, Satoru,” fuck, his dick twitches — he could bust just looking at you.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, “g’nna make me cum just with your words,” but he diverts his attention to your needy cunt, his long fingers graze over your pussy, collecting the precum on his fingertips, before he pinches your clit.

“Toru,” you squirm, as he grins down at you, all too pleased.

“Imagine if the elders could see you like this — spread out for me like a good little wife,” he’s leaning down to kiss your fluttering folds, leaning back for you to see the shiny pre that clings to his lips that his pink tongue darts out to clean off, “sweetest thing I’ve tasted,”

“Please, Toru, fuck—“ and finally his finger is circling your hole, before sinking in knuckle deep — fuck, you were fucking tight — he could melt from your warmth, pulling him in like a siren to a drunken sailor, “oh my god,”

“You don’t have to call me ‘god,’ princess,” and he earns a glare from you that fades into an open mouthed moan as he begins to pump his finger in and out, “so good for me,” and he’s adding another finger, the wet squelch of your cunt growing louder, as he reaches a hand down to graze against his erection if only for a little relief.

He wishes he could memorize the way you looked right now — perfect little lips parted for him, his name and soft pants the only sounds you could manage to make, your back arching into his touch, and the way you moaned when his lips found their way around your clit.

His tongue circles your clit at first before his lips suck at the hard pearl, fingers parting your dripping folds, finally finding that spot that had your walls giving that telltale spasm, “Toru, I’m close—g’nna cum—“ you whimper, his fingers pistoning in and out of your cunt as he sucks hard at your clit, and you cum, hard, around his fingers, drenching his face and finger alike, as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You’re beautiful — lips parted and chest heaving, as you moan his name again, “good girl,” he’s murmuring, as your eyes flutter open, to watch him lick his lips and fingers clean, “might get addicted to how you taste, sweetheart,”

And you’re boneless, but still you’re still reaching for him, pulling him into a languid kiss, his cock twitching as he shifts himself over you, hands pressed into the mattress, his clothed cock rubbing against your drenched folds.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you mumble against his lips, and he’s pulling back an inch — but unknowingly, he’s given you a mile, as you flip him onto his back.

You’re a vision — your perked up nipples visible through your bra, halfway slipping off your shoulders as it is, hair a lovely mess, and pretty lips kiss ruined.

“My turn,” and your lips burn a trail down his jaw, along the curve of his neck and the cut of his collarbone. You take your time, if only to pay him back in full for all the teasing he did, “didn’t know you taste so sweet, Toru,” your tongue drags up his chest, “must be all the sugar you eat,”

And your lips smile against his abs at the sharp gasp he fails to stifle, “I’ll have you know I’m very sweet—“ and your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “I’m known for it,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips.

“Uh-huh, I’m sure almost everyone would care to disagree,” the tip of his cock strains against the fabric, the dark wet patch growing larger the more your thumb beared down on it, “but I wouldn’t be one of them,” and you’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening, “because I know how much you do for others — and how much you’ve lost because of it,” you kiss his inner thigh softly, nose brushing against the skin.

“As long I don’t lose you,” he says softly, “I think I’ll be okay,”

And your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip, “I’m not going anywhere, Toru.”

Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you know exactly what you’re doing to me,” his cheeks burn, dusted with pink surely — as he watches you lick the precum that dripped down your fingers onto your wrist, “knew that mouth would be s’fucking good—“

“Turns out you don’t shut up even in bed,” and that earns you a cheeky grin that parts into an ‘o’ as his dick sinks into your mouth. He swears he was closer to death than he was when Toji nearly killed him — not that he’d like to remember that man in this moment — but you’d surely be the death of him, and you would be — if he had to spend another second without you in his life.

Fuck, he looks down at you, eyes half shut, his white knuckled fingers gripping the sheets — you’re gorgeous as you swallow him whole — sucking and licking, nose brushing against his pubes as your eyes water, as you bob along his length from tip to base and back again.

“S’good for me, so pretty, fuck—” he groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off, I’m s’close princess, g’nna cum—” But your hands only slide to his ass to hold yourself against him, as his dick twitches in your mouth, and your fingers drift to his sack while your tongue flicks along his slit and he’s done. He’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth.

He’s watching you with half lidded eyes pull away from him— a string of cum and spit strung between your lips and his dick, before beginning to drip from the corner of your mouth. And fuck, it’s enough to make him hard all over again. You lean over him, wiping the release from your lips, as you kiss up his body.

“Now who’s good at everything?” and he huffs out a chuckle.

“I stand corrected — actually, don’t think I’ll be standing for a while after that but—” and he’s finding your lips in a kiss, tasting himself you, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, as your fingers find his erection again, stroking it, before he’s flipped you onto your back. He runs a hand through his snowy locks, a smile on his lips, “don’t think you’ll be doing much standing after this either,”

“So full of yourself,” you roll your eyes.

“That’s what you’re going to be full of in a second—”

“Oh my god—” and your laugh dies on your lips as he starts to tease your entrance with the head of his cock, “Toru,” you whine, as he watches your needy cunt flutter around nothing as he drags his length up and down your dripping hole, watching your releases mix, “please—”

“So polite,” he hums, as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, “now how can I refuse that?” and he begins to sink his length into your cunt, warm walls nearly pulling his cock in deeper, as he groans your name, “s’perfect, s’good for me, princess, made for me,” and inch by inch, until he’s finally bottoming out.

“Toru, ngh, s’big—” you gasp, lips parted in a silent moan, as you pull him even closer, face buried in the crook of his neck, but his fingers tugging your hair to show your face.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs, as his lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust into you — his hips meeting yours, the wet squelch and skin slapping echoing in his ears. A gasp parting your lips as you pull apart, your head thrown back in a moan as your walls flutter around him as his tip breaches that one spot inside you.

“Haa, I’m close, Toru,” you groan, and he’s nodding, his fingers reaching between your bodies to find your clit.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” and you do — cumming hard, as he notches himself deep inside you, before spilling inside you, his hot release deep in your pussy. He’s moaning your name, as your bodies slow and his fingers cup your cheek gently, and his lips find yours.

He slowly rolls off of you, your warmth leaving him for a moment, before he’s pulling you close again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Is this a dream?” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut, and a small chuckle leaves his lips, legs entangled.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, “If it is, I hope I never wake up, Princess.”

Your body aches — that’s your first thought as you stir into consciousness. Fuck, why does you feel so sore? Your eyes try to flutter open, but the sunlight blinds you — a soft groan leaves your lips. You shift, as you stretch, your back aching and muscles tight, but then someone moves behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist.

Your eyes shoot open, as your head slowly turns to find looking at Satoru. A gasp is caught in your lips.

Fuck, it was real.

You slowly turn to face him, his soft breaths leaving his pink lips — god he’s so gorgeous. His pretty white eyelashes resting against his skin, lips parted ever so slightly, and his snowy hair askew and mussed. Your fingers ghost over his cheek lightly — how many people have seen him asleep like this? How many had seen him with his guard down? You knew he didn’t sleep nearly enough, you were surprised he was still asleep — but, your cheeks burned, you both did spend half the night awake.

But there were more pressing things to think about — what did this mean? You chew on your bottom lip, he had said he wanted you — but what did he want? Just last night? Or something more.

“I can’t sleep with your thoughts grinding so much,” he mumbles, heat rushing to your cheeks, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck, “why are you awake so early?” His nose brushes against your neck, his lips pressing softly against your pulse.

“I just woke up,” you murmur, a small shiver running up your spine, as you relax into his touch, your fingers running through his soft locks, “did all my thinking wake you?”

“Yes, and you’ll have to compensate me,” and you snort.

“You’re rich, like old money rich,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your skin, heat climbing up your body.

“Money isn’t what I want,” he nuzzles you, nose brushing against the skin of your neck, “wonder what other ways you can repay me,”

You chuckle, humming at his touch — god even the simplest of touches has your logic up in ash, “I’m sure you can figure out some other methods of payment,”

And his lips find yours again — it’s a lazy morning kiss, soft and slow, but not bereft of any of the passion from the night before. His fingers slide down your body, as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“My preferred method of payment wouldn’t have us leaving this room until tomorrow morning,” his lips curl in a smirk, “but I’ll collect my charge tonight — how about I make us breakfast?”

“You can make breakfast?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I know how to scramble an egg,” he shrugs, and you snort only for him to pout, and you smile, your fingers brushing against his cheek, before your thumb runs down his lips.

“How about we make breakfast together?”

“Was that really your first time making tamagoyaki?” you raise an eyebrow, as you pick up a piece of the rolled omelet between your chopsticks.

“Promise,” and you bite it — it was perfect — the texture, the taste, the seasoning. And you stare at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Either you’re lying or you really are good at everything,” you mutter, and he grins, as he takes a bite of his food — a sweeter tamagoyaki he had made for himself, far too smug for his own good.

“I think I proved that last night, Princess,” and you nearly choke on your food. And you chew thoughtfully — you two hadn’t even breached what last night meant yet. You had simply been dancing around it, or at least you had. You didn’t want to be the one to bring it up — or rather, you picked up another piece of tamagoyaki up, you didn’t know how to, “what’s going on in that head of yours?”

And your eyes snap up, “What do you mean?”

He tilts his head, “You’re not hard to read — you keep thinking about something,” and his lips curl, “last night?” Your hesitation gives you away — and he only smiles wider, “should I refresh your memory?” And your cheeks are burning, and he chuckles, “come on, sweetheart, let’s just talk,”

You bite your lip — you needed to do this, you couldn’t run away from how you felt, not again — your fingers fidgeting with your chopsticks, before you place them down on your bowl, “What did last night mean?”

And his lips curl, but this smile he has is softer, “What do you think sweetheart? Do you think I’m really the—“ And his phone rings, and he picks up his phone, eyes flickering to the caller, and you wave him off, “you can take the call,”

He sighs, “One second,” he gets up to speak, and he hangs up a few minutes later, “text me a location,”

“Who was that?” And he’s shaking his head, a sigh on his lips, his hand on the back of his neck.

“The ever breathing and ever irritating geezers want me to meet them to speak about something involving the clan,” he meets your gaze, a flicker of an emotion in his eyes — a drop of water that disappears into the sea as quickly as it formed, “and it’s a good opportunity for me to discuss something I have been wanting to speak with them about,”

“Something?” and his lips quirk in a small smile.

“I’ll be back soon enough to explain, sweetheart,” he walks over to you, “will you wait here for me? Think I’ll be able to come back faster if I know you’re here waiting for me,”

And you can’t help the small flutter your treacherous heart gives, “The great Satoru Gojo will rush for me?”

“Oh, he would rush day and night if it meant he could come home to you,” and his fingers find your cheek, drawn like a magnet — why was it you could never look away from him? Even in a crowd, your eyes always found his gaze.

And you’d go to him — like a moth to a flame, “I think I’d prefer just Satoru,” you lean into his touch, your hand over his, “I do owe him after all,”

“You do,” he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, before he’s pulling away, a smile on his lips, “consider that a deposit.”

You didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Alone in Satoru’s place — you didn’t know what to do with yourself. He had left right after breakfast, and he told you where the TV was, books, and told you could order anything or use anything you needed. But, this place was so him — each place you went, there was just another reminder of him that seemed trail after you, but at the same time, without him, it was like a shell of a place — no soul present.

And you supposed the soul wasn’t present.

You ended up back in the bedroom, crawling back under the covers. Fuck, they even smelled of him — you squeezed your eyes shut.

You really didn’t know what you were doing — did you?

You laid on your back. What were you supposed to make of what happened last night and this morning for that matter? Was this real now? A real relationship with Satoru — you turned over on your stomach, pulling the covers over your head — you could barely imagine it.

And your phone goes off, as you reach for it blindly on the nightstand. But it wasn’t the white haired sorcerer you hoped it was — your eyebrows knit together — at least you didn’t think it was. A text from a number you don’t recognize — and a picture to top it off from the preview.

You nearly deleted it — only to spot a familiar mop of white in the picture.

Your blood runs cold at the sight. Satoru? He was at a restaurant with — a woman? You didn’t recognize her, but his hand held hers, picture taken mid laugh. Your cheeks burn — no, no — there had to be an explanation.

A text now — Want to see what your boyfriend does in his spare time? Is he done using you now?

There’s only one person who’d text like that.

Naoya, how fuck did you even get this picture? You stare at the photo — have you fallen so far in your clan that you have the time to stalk Satoru now?

He replied, it’s not my fault that they are dining in a Zenin owned business.

Another picture — Satoru and her were hugging, his arm around her waist, far too close to be friendly.

You don’t think — you call him. It rings and rings, but no answer — the cut to voicemail makes your heart sink.

Another text — even if you don’t believe me, do you think this will be the last of your problems? When you’re Satoru Gojo, anyone close to you will have a target on their back — if only to use your blood to paint one on his head.

You knew you couldn’t trust this. You knew there was an explanation. You knew Satoru wouldn’t do this to you.

But even still, you wished you could tell your heart that.

“What is this?” Satoru was led to a table at the restaurant the old geezers had chosen — but there were no wrinkly old cranks in sight. Instead, there was a woman.

“Are you Satoru Gojo?” And he raises an eyebrow, hands sliding into his pockets.

“The one and only, now I don’t suppose the old fools of the Gojo clan turned into a woman — so who are you?” She swirls the glass in her hand, before downing the liquid in one go.

“Figures they had to lie to get you here — seems like we’ve been set up,” she gestures to the chair in front of her, “I’m Airi,” and he takes a reluctant seat, “I was told this was a meeting for us to meet for a potential engagement,” and he scoffs, he should have figured it was something like this, “but judging by the look on your face, you didn’t know that,”

“I was expecting to meet

I suppose we’re on the same page,”

He tilts his head, “Really?”

“Gojo, you may be a catch, but to me, you’re nothing more than a potential knife to my neck,” she places her glass down, leaning back in her chair, “and plus, I have someone I’m interested in,” and her eyes slide down, “and judging by the bite mark on your neck, you do too,”

He pays it no mind, a laugh leaving his lips at the thought of you waiting for him at his apartment, “I do,” and he sighs, pushing his chair out, before getting to his feet. “and I have to get back to her,”

She follows suit pushing out her own chair, rising, a waiter walking by, and she trips. It’s a reflex, he catches her by the wrist and by the waist, steadying her.

“Sorry,” she pulls away immediately, looking back for the waiter, before biting her tongue, “fucking waiter tripped me,” the two of them glance around, but see no one, “I’ll have to talk to my grandfather’s advisors about this. No one trips the granddaughter of Naobito Zenin,” she mutters, and Satoru’s eyes snap to her.

“You’re a Zenin?” And it clicks, the wedding, “who arranged this meeting?”

She tilts her head, “My father, but he heard about this from my cousin, Naoya—“

He checks his phone — and he sees a missed call from you.

Fuck. It was a set-up — in both ways.

“I have to go,” and he can only hope you wouldn’t do the same to him when he came back.

Satoru calls you, but you don’t pick up. You can’t bring yourself to stare back at the photo he had set as his contact photo — the picture Yuta had taken of him clutching at his phone with your picture on his screen.

You needed to talk to him in person.

And it’s not long before he’s back home — practically teleporting at your feet.

You swear, stumbling and he grabs you, tugging you close, “Got you,” he smiles, tugging off his blindfold for you to see his eyes — the startling blue that you still couldn’t navigate without drowning in its depths, “does that mean I can keep you?” and you want to pull away, you want to run, but you can’t help but melt into his touch, your fingers gently clutching at the front of his shirt.

“That depends on whether I’m the only person you’ve said that to,” and you look up at him, his brow furrowed, “and held like this,”

“The meeting today, it was supposed to be with the elders — I was going to discuss our relationship again but—“ you show him the pictures on your phone, and his brow knit together, “how did you—“ and he doesn’t finish his sentence before he realizes, “it was a set-up,”

“I know,” and relief washes over features for a moment, but your eyes can’t meet his, your lips a thin line.

And he glances at the photo again, seeing the one where he’s holding Airi, “She tripped, sweetheart, trust me—“ his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “I don’t want to hold anyone but you,”

“I know Naoya and the Gojo clan probably set this up,” you whisper, leaning into his touch, “but—” you pull away from him, every step away from him a fissure in the foundation of this bridge built, “I don’t think I can do this anymore,”

And he’s blinking, “Why?”

“I’m not good enough,” you’re shaking your head, stepping back as he steps forward, “I hurt you by leaving, and I was this close to doing it again—”

“But you didn’t—”

“And your clan doesn’t want us together, and I don’t know, I feel even if we’re together,” the words that leave your lips break your heart and his, we’ll only hurt each other in the end,”

“Why do you always push me away when we get close?”

“No I don’t—”

“You don’t think the sorcerer that’s an expert at pushing others away — wouldn’t know if he’s getting pushed away?”

“This isn’t working out,” you cut him off, as the slice cuts through thin air — but it’s not your head that goes rolling — it’s his heart, “we should stop — I think your clan has been convinced,”

He’s silent for a moment, before he replies, “well, I haven’t been convinced,”

You scoff, his hands by his side, as his quiet footsteps approach you, “convinced of what?”

“Convinced that,” he stops in front of you, “you don’t feel the same way I do,” Your breath catches, as his fingers find your cheek, “all these years, sweetheart, and you didn’t know?”

“But,” you can’t process this, it doesn’t make sense, “but Suguru—“

“Was important to me yes,” he murmurs, “but it’s been years, and it doesn’t mean I can’t have deep feelings for someone else — especially when I’ve had them for over a decade,”

“You—“ was this real? As he stood before you, in his living room low lights, sunlight streaming in from his windows, “what?”

He laughs, “Didn’t know it was possible to render you speechless, sweetheart — guess there’s a first time for everything,” he steps over your missteps with the same ease he does everything, “I really do have to spell everything out for you, don’t I?” The back of his fingers ghost over your cheek, “I’m in love with you—“

“No,” you’re shaking your head, and his face falls, “Satoru, we can’t—“

“But—“

“Your clan doesn’t approve of me, they won’t stop trying to break us up, and I could put you in danger,” you murmur, “they could use me against you — just like Suguru did,” you couldn’t bear the thought of that, “and is that worth it? Worth it for something that may not be real?” You ask the question you’re afraid of asking him — of asking yourself — “was it ever real?”

And he’s still trying to reach for you, despite it all — he knows it’s dangerous to be around him, he knows anyone close to him is in danger — and that’s why he was okay when you left. If only you’d be safe — but he knew that if he always played it safe, he would never be happy, “It’s real to me,”

“It’s not to me,” you turn towards the door, “I’m sorry.”

And this time he doesn’t stop you.

It’s for the best.

That’s what you tell yourself. The same thing you say when you’re leaving his place. The same thing you say the next morning you wake up with only a pain in your chest and a dull ache in your head. The same thing when you accept a long mission overseas.

It was for the best.

Then why — then why did you think of him? Each and every day, every minute, every second. But it was for the best. He was safer without you, it was easier without you, it was better — better and yet each day seemed to drag when you couldn’t talk to him. And your notes were filled with unsent texts to him — and your mind was filled with nothing but memories.

And you couldn’t touch memories nor could you talk to them.

Several months later, you’re sitting in a plane, watching the animation of the plane fly back towards Tokyo. You had been checking in with Yaga several times a month, but you hadn’t heard a thing from Satoru.

Or rather, Gojo. Not that you expected to — not after what you did.

And soon enough, you’re arriving home — heading inside your home to find a bunch of your mail had fallen out of your mailbox, knocked out of the rickety box from the storm the night before. You pick up the drenched mail between two fingers that was stuck to the sides of your walls, as you fumble with your keys to open the door. Your suitcase and mail fall to the fall as you close the door behind you, sighing.

Fuck. You were home.

You dragged your suitcase inside, picking up the mail off the floor. You collapsed on your couch, tossing the wet envelopes onto the table — when a name catches your eye.

Gojo?

You pick up an envelope — the frilly envelope doing nothing to protect the contents inside — you barely can make out any of the text, except the faint inked kanji of his name.

You gingerly open the envelope, peeling out the insides — and your heart drops.

Is this an invitation? The faint text was blurred and smudged from the rain — the contents all but faded and you could only make out three things — ““marriage,” today’s date, and bits and pieces of what you thought was an address.

Satoru was…getting married?

It felt like logic had fled your mind and panic took its place — as you looked up the parts of the address that you were able to decipher. And you found it — it was a popular venue not far from here.

You didn’t think — you grabbed your keys and drove.

You couldn’t let him get married, no, no — you had made a mistake when you left. You thought he was better off, you thought it was for the best — but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be when your chest hurt like this — felt as if your heart was splitting in two with a sword stuck between your ribs. It couldn’t be because you pushed him away because you were scared — scared of getting hurt again, scared of hurting him, scared of being with the only person you ever had loved.

Basically, you pulled up to the venue, you were an idiot.

You hadn’t changed, you hadn’t showered off your who knows how long of a flight, and now you were on the steps of a wedding venue that Satoru was getting married at. You froze before the doors.

You couldn’t do this. He didn’t deserve to have his day ruined by you — not when you had ruined enough. If he had found someone else to spend his life with — whether it was arranged or not, he deserved to be happy.

Even if it wasn’t with you.

So you step down — walking off a distance to watch when the couple emerged — which judging by how dark it was and how staff were already almost done setting up — would be any minute now.

So you wait.

And finally when the doors swing open, you steel yourself — knowing it would do nothing, nothing to shield you from the pain of seeing—and your eyes find the groom.

That wasn’t Satoru.

He certainly had the white hair, but he did not have his blue eyes — he had a lovely bride regardless, who looked at him the way you had always looked at Satoru. Was that the look you had hidden away for so many years? And why were you still hiding?

And your eyes find Satoru almost instantly — as fast as his eyes find you seemingly, as your name escapes his lips — as he parts through the crowd to your side. He’s wearing the other suit he had tried on — the white suit that had been your second favorite — his white locks parted and combed to the side, but still impossibly unkempt as they always were.

“You got my invitation?” you blink, tilting your head.

“But you—what?” and his brow furrows.

“Don’t tell me you lost your ability to read and speak while overseas, princess,” and a small chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head, wringing your hands.

“Satoru, the invitation was wet because of the rain, I thought—” your voice wavers, glancing away as your cheeks burn, “I thought you were getting married.”

He raises an eyebrow, lips curling, “And you were about to burst in and object?”

You roll your eyes, but even so you can’t meet his gaze, “Satoru—”

His smile only grows wider, “What were you going to say? A passionate speech about how you’re still—” And you’re tugging him close by the collar, and his breath catches, your name leaving his lips.

“I’m in love with you, Satoru,” your voice is steady as you speak, your hand sliding to his cheek, “I always have been — I was just afraid to admit it, I didn’t want to hurt you — whether it was by my own hand or not,” and his brow furrows, but you continue, “but I’m not scared anymore — because it hurts more to be nothing than something with you—”

And his lips find yours. It’s everything you want — because it's him, he’s everything you’d ever wanted, and everything you’d ever want. You want the way his arm slides around your waist to pull you closer, you want the way his hand cups your cheek, you want the way his lips smile against yours, and you’d want his past, present, and future. And you’d do anything to keep it.

“Promise you’ll never leave like that again?” he murmurs, his arm tightening around your waist as he says the words, his forehead pressed against yours, “I already have abandonment issues,” and you chuckle, your fingers finding his cheek.

“I promise,” you murmur, “I’m sorry I left — both times I left, and there won’t ever be a third,”

And he smiles, “You proposing to me, sweetheart? I’m not one to rush into things, gotta take me out on a proper date first,”

“How about tonight?” you find his lips again, the taste of sugar on his lips — undoubtedly from indulging in a slice or several of wedding cake.

“So soon?” he hums,and his gaze softens, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “someone’s eager,” and your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his, as you would a million times more,

“Well, you don’t know until you try.”

✧ a/n: ahhh another celebration fic done!! this one was lowkey a struggle towards the end so i hope this turned out okay. it's beyond me understanding if it did or not lmao. i hope you guys enjoy ahhh -- gotta probably put up a poll to decide the next celebration fic this weekend :) (it's only because i'm horribly indecisive).

✧ taglist: @yunjinabla, @weluvsza, @yamaguccitadashi, @gojobbg, @soulofoz, @hfdkhjghjkghfj, @forest-fruits-jam, @cerene-dipity, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @reaperxdeath, @octopishisahybridanimal, @hanlay, @whereflowerswenttodie, @tsukimefuku, @numbing3scapism, @arcswonderland, @kirashuu, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @jayathelostdragon, @sunflowmaryam, @satorusmochis, @catsgomurp, @simply-a-s1mp, @kentocalls, @weluvsza, @lucy-xv0202, @mazzd4, @dontshuugo, @zz-snow-zz

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo fluff

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lymtw · 4 months

Text

Thinking of an argument with Toji that leaves you mute by choice towards him. He still talks to you and asks you questions, and while you don't turn away from him, you don't respond to him either. He ends up having to figure out whatever he needs on his own because after a minute or so you huff and walk away from the conversation.

"Mama," he calls from the bedroom, rummaging through his clothing drawers. "Have you seen my gym shorts?"

If he was able to get a word out of you, he would know that you washed them for him. Though you were still sizzling with anger towards him, you pulled them out of the dryer and walked them over to the room. He could hear your little footsteps as you approached the room, and when he turned to look at you, he noticed you were holding his shorts in your hand.

Your eyes were vacant towards him. You didn't want them to be because it sucks when you can't look at him with the endless amount of love you have in store for him. It's still there, but it's being masked by a poker face.

You toss the shorts onto the bed and leave. Toji sighs, irked by the fact that it's actually starting to sting now. Your disregard for him because you're ruled by your emotions and he lets things go too easily because he can't hold a grudge towards you, even if he feels you're in the wrong.

Toji never knew how much he depended on your voice until you wouldn't let him hear it. He depends on you to tell him where things are because without you they would be scattered all over the place. He doesn't know your method of organization, but somehow when he needs something and looks to you in order to find it, you pull it out from right under his nose. He depends on you to tell him he's doing a good job, and to tell him you love him, and just reassure him in general. It makes him feel good to know that someone thinks he's good enough, but recently the one person who feeds him affection like it's as important as food and water, has left him to starve. You haven't said a word to him in almost two days, and he feels like he's starting to go crazy. The sound of his own voice is driving him insane. It's gotten so bad that he had to make a mental note of how he's going to get you back that same night.

Toji leaves for the gym and texts you during his time there. He includes some images because it's now an unspoken rule that he always has to send you gym pics.

[ Attachment: 3 Images]

... 😳🤐

Yeah, I know you like those. I'll be home soon.

You take the time to doll yourself up while he's still out. It's for him, but you won't tell him that until you come back from your "night out". Really, you're just gonna go get dinner for both of you from his favorite little restaurant. You just want to see how far he's willing to let this go, because you're caving. You're ready to apologize even when you know he's not upset at all. You're ready to spoil him in order to make up for those severe feelings you held towards him. You're ready to hear about how stubborn and unbelievable you are for this little act you pulled.

You spray on some perfume and walk out of the bathroom, just in time to catch Toji walking through the door.

"Woof, where're you going, ma?" He asks, setting down his gym bag before absorbing everything you were gracing him with. His eyes flit up and down your body, lingering on the very bare skin of the legs that come out from under your skirt. He can smell your perfume from where he stands, its elegant scent masking even the smell of his own potent sweat.

You didn't answer his question, and left him to wonder why you're all dressed up at seven o'clock at night. Was it a girl's night or were you openly showing him that you have options? Did he miss a message or a call from you?

You grabbed your wallet and scooted past him. You walked halfway down the corridor of your apartment building before realizing that maybe this was a bit much. You would make him worry over you going on a five minute walk to grab some food? All so you can show him you're mad? You cracked.

🥟🥡🍜.

Toji was staring at his screen, waiting for anything from you. The screen flashes like some sort of miracle and your message is seen by him. He chuckles, feeling a sense of relief wash over him at the sight of your little emoticons.

You came back home as fast as possible, bags of food in hand as you patiently waited for the elevator to bring you up to your floor. You took your time walking through the corridor, this time, not knowing how you would react once you saw Toji or if you would immediately say something to him. You're ready to talk to him, you want to talk to him. You miss him, you love him, and you hate the passiveness you threw yourself into around him as an act of retaliation.

There you were, standing in front of the door, nervous beyond belief for what was behind it. You collected yourself and twisted the doorknob, ready to face anything that came to you.

Toji stood from the couch and walked over to you to take the bags from your hands. The smell of his body wash wafted into your nose. There was an imaginary white flag hanging out of your pocket, and it was about to fall out to signal your surrender to Toji.

He pecks your cheek and watches in real time as color floods into your face. It's one of the most adorable things he's ever seen—you standing there so rigidly afterwards. He gives you a soft smile and resists the urge to coo at you for being so cute. Instead, he heads to the table to put the bags of food down.

You shut the door, and within a split second, Toji was in front of you again. "Ma," he says, sounding a little more desperate than he thought he would. "Say something." You stand there like a statue—unmoving, but unlike a statue, you are easily moveable. Especially, by Toji. "Anything, mama, please." He crouches down at your feet, his warm hands resting on the backs of your knees and his cheek resting on one of your thighs. This position made it look like you were being worshipped by him, and anyone who ever saw him do this would know that it was true, because he worshipped everything about you. From the top of your head, to the ground your feet stood on.

"Don't you miss having my hands on you?" They glide up and down the backs of your thighs. He looks up at your stunned expression. You won't look down at him, so he gets to see the way you swallow the words dying to leave your mouth, and the slight widening of your eyes as he lets his hands roam your lower body. "I know I do. I've been in hell these past couple days." He presses a soft kiss to your knee, then one more on your thigh. "I didn't mean what I said. I don't think you're selfish, baby. Maybe i'm just a greedy asshole," he says, rekindling the subject of what led to your silence towards him. His hand maneuvers around your leg so that his palm is on your thigh, making its way up towards the inner part of it. "But, I know something," his lips trail further up your thigh, softly kissing your skin. "I'm greedy about you. That can't and won't be changed, even when we argue like idiots."

You put your hand on his head as he starts kissing up your inner thighs, making his way even further up beneath your skirt.

"Come on, my sweet girl," he murmurs, his lips meeting the front of your underwear. "Tell me you want me to stop. Tell me you hate that my filthy paws are on you, right now."

Your legs tremble at the lightness of his touch, and you internally cringe at how sensitive you've always been for him.

"Toji..." you gasp. You feel his warm tongue flatten between your legs, a slow upwards drag of the muscle makes your thighs quiver before him. You whimper at the damp warmth his saliva leaves on your panties. "Fuck..." you moan, breathily. "Don't stop. Stay there, please."

The first word you reintroduced yourself with being a moaned out rendition of his name was heaven reaching down to pat him on the back for knowing exactly what to do to get you to talk again.

"Open wider for me, baby. Let me see," Toji says, your skirt still veiled over his head. You take a step back so that your back is against the door and widen your stance a little more. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and you shudder when his tongue returns to slide through your clothed folds. He doesn't even need to produce that much saliva to drench the fabric of your underwear because you've done that for him already with your leaking arousal.

You shut your eyes and rest your head against the door as Toji continues his act of filth between your thighs. You can hear him panting below you, your taste pleasantly coating his tongue every time he sucks on the garment that clings to you.

You cry out his name with sharp breaths following, your fingers tangling into his locks, gripping and tugging as his lips catch onto your cunt. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you grit out, whimpering at the contrast between his mouth and his hands. His hands offer a gentle massage to your thighs, softly kneading the plush between his fingers. His mouth moves purposefully because he knows exactly what it takes to make you fall apart with it. He coats his tongue with your essence every time he laps at the wet patch on your underwear, sticky webs of arousal connecting him to you.

"T-Toji!" You squeal, your cunt throbbing with every brush of his tongue. "I'm gonna cum... Fuck, i'm gonna cum..." you whine.

Toji pushes your underwear to the side, and glides his tongue through your generously slicked folds once and you're instantly arching your back off the door, squirming in his hold and moaning carelessly as he sloppily makes out with your cunt. He desperately chases the sound of your pleasure-ridden voice, wanting to hear the way it raises in pitch when he strokes you just right. He doesn't want it to stop, it's been too long. Two days way too long. You tug at his hair with one hand, dragging the nails of your other hand down the door. You breathe heavily as Toji manipulates your pleasure until your thighs are trembling.

Toji pulls away and lifts your skirt off his head. He lowers your leg back down and stands up from his crouched position. He faces you with glossy lips that shine with all the juices he collected from you, some of it drooling down his chin to give him an even more messy appearance. He presses his lips to yours, making slow movements to allow you to realize what is happening while your eyes are closed. You can taste yourself on his lips as you catch the rhythm.

There's a loud smack in the last kiss before he releases you, a feral look in his green eyes as he dotes on your blissed out appearance. You look too pure for someone who's just experienced something so sinful. "Hey, look at me," he coos, cupping your cheeks in his hands. "Look at me," he repeats, staring at you as you try to catch your breath with closed eyes.

You hum, rolling your eyes open to lazily stare back at him. Your eyelids felt so heavy as you looked at him, but you liked how vigilant he was being. It made you crack a grin, a small gesture that had Toji's heart thudding a little quicker, now.

"I wanna fuck you so bad, mama." His eyes trail yours as they look away from his gaze. "If this is your reaction to my mouth, I don't even know what to expect for when I'm inside you."

You look down to see what's been poking your thigh for the past minute or so, and it's the monster in his pants, outlined for your eyes to quickly spot and everything.

"Come on," you say, reaching your hand out to him. He takes it and allows you to lead him to the bedroom.

Toji shuts the door and locks it to give the situation a deeper level of intimacy. There's no one there but the two of you and yet you feel even more secluded by the gesture.

He wasn't aggressive in the way he bared you for his eyes. He pulled you close to him by the waist, your body against his as he peeled your layers of clothes off.

"Stay," he says, when you take a step back. He takes that step towards you again, placing his hands on your hips, and snaking them around to your back to locate the zipper for your skirt. He exhales through his nose, lidded eyes watching the longing expression on your face closely as he pulls down the zipper and allows the article to fall on the floor. His fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt before he fully slides his hands beneath it, and raises it up your torso higher and higher. You put your arms up and allow him to slip it off your head.

He makes haste of getting his own clothes off, a sly smirk decorating his face when he sees you admiring him from where you sit on the end of the bed as you take off your bra and underwear. You're forced further up the bed by Toji as he inches closer and closer to you. You reach a dead end and welcome the suffocating warmth of his body as he cages you onto the bed.

"Don't do that to me again, mama," he murmurs, before leaning down to peck your lips. "Don't let me talk to myself for that long when you have such a pretty voice to respond with."

You laugh, pulling a small grin from him. "I didn't think you'd care, to be honest. I thought you'd tell me i'm being childish or ridiculous."

"Nah, princess. I thought I was gonna die."

You giggle, pulling him close again. "You're exaggerating."

"You wouldn't let me touch you. Not even when we went to bed, so it was like we were friends instead of lovers sleeping together. Especially with how far on your side you slept."

"Oh, baby," you coo, pressing multiple quick apologetic kisses to his lips. He chuckles at the affection, and his eyes close instinctively as your kisses become more widespread on his face. He missed this more than anything. "What can I do for your forgiveness, my love?"

"Just let me fuck you, ma. That's all. Give me my privilege to all of this, again." His hand slowly trails from your chest to your stomach, a touch you longed for dearly during those two days that you verbally ignored him.

"It's yours," you whisper to him. You peer up at him with your constellation eyes, silently begging him to realize how much you need him. "I'm yours, so show me the use you have for the privilege over my body, baby."

He leans down to kiss you, softly. He's desperate for you, but his lips don't falter their delicate synchrony because of it. He guides the tip of his cock through your folds, rubbing up and down the slickness a couple times before slowly sinking into you. Your ability to tangle with Toji's lips slowly deteriorates, and your focus strays to the stretching happening lower down your body, so Toji picks up the slack and feeds you his kisses.

"Come on," he groans out. Not even he is immune to the rebirth of sex with you. You're warm and inviting, and you embrace the pain and comfort he offers every time he craves you or you crave him. This time is no exception. "Kiss me back, sweetheart. Give them all to me," he mutters, before attempting to connect his lips to yours again. You dig your heels into the mattress and your toes curl as you feel his girth continue to submerge inside you.

Toji cups your chin and uses his fingers to squish your cheeks together into a makeshift pout for him to kiss. He can hear your hummed little whimpers in response to him sheathing himself further into you. He was being gentle, because hurting you is a crime in his world.

"Fuck, I missed this, mama," he says, goosebumps rising on his torso as he drags himself out of you halfway and pushes himself back in again. "So warm..." he says over the sound of your pleasured moan. He sighs, a grunt following as he starts a careful rocking rhythm into you. "I could stay inside you forever."

"I could keep you here forever," you rephrase, gazing up at him with those eyes he unequivocally loves. They've reverted back to the default loving expression you hold for him, the vacancy of your previous gaze now filled with love, excitement, lust, and overall enchantment. It's a beautiful thing to see your hurricanes subside.

He leans down to kiss you again, distributing the kisses on your face and leading them towards your neck. You could feel his abs dragging up and down your stomach with every roll of his hips against yours.

"Mmm... Toji," you moan, bringing your hands to his back. One of them moves up to the nape of his neck, threading through the dampened locks of his hair, the other traces his spine to distract you from how badly you want to dig your nails into him.

"I know," he coos, kissing the spot beneath your ear. "I know, doll. It's always this good with you."

You gasp at the feeling of his cock prodding the more sensitive area within you. "Right there, right there... Oh..." you moan out, inevitably digging your nails into his shoulder blades while Toji directs his kisses back up your neck and towards your face again so he can see the honest expression on it. You're lost in pleasure, vibrating as another orgasm rushes through you.

"Fuck, mama.. let me-" he groans, outwardly losing it at the overflow of your juices. "Let me see those pretty eyes," he pants, gripping your waist a little more harshly as he feels his cock on the brink of expelling into you. "Need you to watch me," he says, taking in the way your lips part to release your sounds of utter satisfaction. Your eyes flutter open to center on his greedy eyes. You mirror his lustful, lidded gaze, the look enough to make him spill inside you, making your cunt even sloppier. "You're gorgeous, ma," he says, mindlessly, as he fucks into you with a little more fervor. "Fucking stunning," he mutters through pants, to which you respond with a sly smirk. The gesture lured a groan out of him and made his cock twitch as he finished releasing into you.

You giggle when he stills his hips. Your combined attempts to regulate your breathing fills the silence that follows. "What're you laughing at?" He asks, massaging your hip with his thumb.

"You tell me that all the time like you're obsessed with me or something."

"And if I am?" he says with a voice so deep you have to blink to see that it's still your gentle giant of a man. "Is it too much for you? Can you handle it? Am I suffocating you, baby?" he purrs, cupping your cheeks while leaning in close to emphasize his points. All it does is allow you to closely admire how handsome he is and really think about what's happening in this moment. This green-eyed, raven-haired man, with the prettiest pointed nose and the most attractive scarred lips, is bedding you, and doing it so well.

"Never. Come closer and bite," you murmur.

He takes your lips in his again, a little more aggressive than before. You asked him to bite, and that's exactly what he's doing. The make out has him rocking both of you a little faster, working you towards yet another orgasm. You nip at his bottom lip and run your tongue over it when hisses. You hum out a little giggle, and moan into his mouth when he jolts into you.

"God, i'll bust again if you keep doing that. I'm serious, mama" he groans, swiping his tongue over his stinging bottom lip. You think he's being dramatic so when he leans down to kiss you again, you bite his bottom lip and suck on it. You gasp, releasing his lip and stare at him with wide eyes as his excessive warmth spurts into your cunt, filling it to the brim and beyond, to the point of leakage.

"F-Fuck... you're terrible," he groans, shuddering with tense abdominal muscles as he lures the entirety of his orgasm out. "Cum," he says, panting as he picks up the pace of his rutting to get you to follow his orgasm. "I can feel you clenching around me like hell. I know you want to," he says, reaching a hand between you and him to stimulate your clit.

Your already labored breathing picks up and your heart is pounding in your ears aggressively as you roll your hips back against his. You whimper as you feel your peak get closer and closer, a cried out and breathy "fuck!" leaving you when it arrives, followed by high pitched moans that make Toji's heart race. You arched your back off the mattress as you reached the zenith of your orgasm with the help of Toji's finger rapidly rubbing your clit while he maintained his satisfying pace inside you.

You whimper, slapping a hand onto Toji's wrist to stop his movements on you. He smirks at the sight of your trembling thighs, your heaving chest, and the sound of your dazed hums. You always were such a delicate thing. So fragile that even with just enough of his attention, he could break you.

"Tired yet?" He asks, admiring your relaxed facial features. You nod with your eyes closed, your lips parted to release little puffs of air. "Thought you'd be. I'll go grab some towels for us to shower." He pulls out of you, taking a moment to admire your collaborative masterpiece.

"Baby..." you whine, sitting up when you feel his weight lift off the bed. "I can't get up." You dramatically let yourself fall back on the bed and stick your tongue out to portray your exhaustion.

"Get up, you faker. That's all you have to do and i'll take care of the rest."

"Too tired to wash myself right now..." you say, waking up for a second before closing your eyes again. Toji can see the sly grin on your face and the little shake of your stomach as you stifle your giggles.

"Guess you're too tired to eat, too, huh? You know i've got a huge appetite, and I could eat all that food you brought by myself."

"You wouldn't," you say, abruptly sitting up on the bed and squinting at him. "There's enough to feed three people in those bags."

"I've got the stomach of three people in one, so you better catch up before you're left with my seconds."

You sigh, too tired to move, but you get up anyway and trail behind Toji. "Baby, can you pleeease clean me up? I'm beat."

He puts his hands on your shoulders as he now walks behind you. "Sure, but don't complain when I take longer on certain areas."

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soaps-mohawk · 13 days

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Summary: It's time to move on. You're not sure where you're going exactly, but anywhere is better than Texas

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,816 words

Warnings: ANGST, injuries, medical stuff, descriptions of pain and injuries, brief discussion about strangulation, mentions of PTSD and nightmares, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, a very little sprinkle of comfort, language, mentions of medications, still very heavy emotionally

A/N: Not actually a lot of warnings for this one. It's a lot of dialogue and inner monologues. Not a lot happens, just mostly setting the scene for the next chunk of the story. Bring tissues though, the last part of the chapter emotionally wrecked me but also might be the best thing I've ever written.

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It’s warm outside.

Not even the shade from the building can completely shield you from the dome of heat that seems to surround the base. It seeps into the concrete and asphalt that lock it into place, trapping everyone in a bubble that may as well be an oven. It’s always hot in Texas, though. You hate it. You’ve been spoiled by the cold, rainy seasons in England. You’d gladly take that over Texas.

You’d take anything over Texas.

The heat prickles at your skin, your arm starting to get sweaty in the sling. It had been Dr. Keller’s idea to keep your shoulder as still as possible so you don’t continue to cause yourself pain when you move. It still hurts, but at least you won’t instinctively try to use your left arm now.

Despite the warmth, there’s still a chill deep in your bones. The warmth of the pain medicine has worn off and you’ve been left with the perpetual ice that has seemed to coat your insides. Dr. Keller says it's the stress giving you a fever. Every nightmare, every flashback sends your body temperature spiking, your heart beating right out of your chest. You’re not out of the woods yet. It can take a long time to recover from that level of distress and the omega taking over. You almost regret it, but there was no guarantee you would have lived either way at that time. You did what you had to do, and it did work out in the end.

But at what cost?

Dr. Keller’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out, staring down at the screen for a moment. “Kyle wants to come by.”

You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to see any of them.

“I think you should see him. Even if it’s just for a moment.” She squeezes your hand. “I’ll be right here.”

It’s a predicament. Dr. Keller supports your decision to keep them away, putting some distance between all of you for the time being. Yet, she also says being close to your pack will help your healing. Having your pack around will help your omega settle once again. She needs that safety, that security before she finally lets go completely.

You don’t want to be close to them, but you may not have any other choice.

You sit there in silence, picking at the fabric of your sweatpants as you wait for Kyle’s arrival. Sweat has started to bead on your back, the day only getting warmer and warmer as the sun moves higher in the sky. You want to go back inside, back into the cool air conditioned building. You want to crawl back onto the hospital bed and lay there for the next few hours.

You can’t.

Footsteps approach, but you don’t look up. You know who it is. You don’t want to see him.

“Kyle.” Dr. Keller greets.

“Christine.” He says back. It still throws you off, hearing Dr. Keller's first name. She'll always be Dr. Keller to you. Kyle turns his attention to you, still standing a few steps from the bench you're perched on. “Hi, love.” He says. The affectionate nickname almost makes you wince. You don't look up at him. You don’t want to see his face. “I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.”

You don't move, don't give an answer. You don't have an answer to give anyway. You shouldn't have to give an answer.

He lowers himself onto the bench, sitting as far away from you as he can. “It’s hot today.” He says, adjusting his hat. Always wearing a hat. Maybe that's why he and Price work so well together.

He stares at you for a long moment but you don't bother moving, your gaze still on your sweatpants. They're starting to get a bit warm, even with your perpetual chill.

“I’m not here to apologize.” He says, breaking the silence. “You’ve probably heard enough apologies to last you a lifetime.” He shakes his head. “Words can’t fix what we did. Nothing can fix what we did, how we left you there. All we can do is give you what you need, try and make you as comfortable as possible.”

Tears burn your eyes as you listen to him. He's not wrong, an apology won't fix what happened. No words will ever be able to fix what they put you through. You're not sure there's anything they could do that would make up for it. An apology still would have been nice, despite the fact you know how guilty he is. Their avoidance of you, their willingness to give you such space in an unknown place just proves how guilty they all are.

That doesn't make things hurt any less.

You slowly turn away from Kyle, angling yourself towards Dr. Keller.

He doesn't say anything further in that regard, taking your movement as an answer to his non-apology. He leans forward instead, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave soon. We’ll be heading somewhere safe, somewhere quiet and secluded. I think you’ll like it.”

Dr. Keller had informed you of that earlier after she went to speak to them. They've decided what to do, what's best for the pack again. You might have protested, except for the fact it meant you were getting to leave Texas. Where exactly they're taking you, you're not sure. You just know it's not Texas.

“I want you to know that we’re here if you need us.” He stares at you for a moment longer before pushing himself up to stand.

If, not when.

Maybe they're finally getting the message.

Dr. Keller stands, touching your right shoulder gently before she steps away with Kyle, speaking quietly with him, but you can still hear every word in the nearly silent space around you.

“In an attempt to remain a neutral, professional party in this situation, I feel it would be appropriate for me to tell you not to beat yourself up too much about this.” Dr. Keller says. “The unprofessional side of me has many words I’d like to say to all of you.” She clears her throat. “That being said, on a positive note I can say you’re all doing the right thing for once, prioritizing your omega and fulfilling her needs, even if her needs require you to leave her alone for now. I know it’s hard, I know every instinct is screaming at you to help her, but just take comfort in knowing you are helping her. You’re doing the best thing you can do for her at this time.” Dr. Keller puts a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “Even if it is tearing you up inside.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He says.

“I’ll see you soon.” She says, patting his arm before she heads back towards your bench.

You turn your head just slightly, not missing the way Gaz lingers for a brief moment before he turns his back on you, walking back down the sidewalk.

It hurts.

You want to cry with every swallow. No matter how much you chew, it doesn’t ease the pain of trying to swallow solid food. Even the worst sore throat you’ve ever had pales in comparison to this pain. Tears burn in your eyes as you eat, unable to refuse this time in favor of choking down some liquid nutrients. Even liquids make your throat ache, but they are easy to chug to get it over with at once.

This feels like torture.

Dr. Keller looks guilty as she spoon-feeds you the soup. Chicken noodle, something simple and easy but still something with some substance. It makes you think back to when you were sick as a child, your mother dutifully feeding you homemade chicken noodle soup until you reached the age you could feed yourself.

You do feel like a child again, unable to even hold the spoon. Well, you could hold it, but it would have come at the expense of some burns from how badly your hand was shaking.

So instead you sit here, being spoon-fed soup you can barely stand eating.

“I know.” She says as a tear finally falls, your inhale shaky from the ache in your throat. “You need something in your system for the sedative. It’s a long flight and you’ll be sick when you wake up if you don’t have anything in your stomach. That’s going to hurt a lot worse than eating now.”

Yeah. You’ve already figured that out.

“Strangulation is a tough thing to survive.” She says, dragging the bottom of the spoon against the edge of the bowl to wipe off any soup that might drip on you. “Then again, so is getting shot, and distressing to the point of your omega taking over.” She holds the spoon up to your lips, and you’re tempted to refuse. “You’ve survived a lot, more than most could. And to look this good after...”

You blink up at her, teary eyed and sickly looking, exhausted and bruised. Your left eye is still almost swollen shut, and your hair is tangled perhaps beyond saving, tied up in a bun at the top of your head. All just reminders of what you survived, all reminders of what happened to you. Of what was allowed to happen to you.

You’re not quite sure when the last time you had a real shower was either.

“I know.” She says, spooning more soup into your mouth. “You might not feel like it, right now.”

“I want a shower.” You say, your voice still hoarse and cracking through your throat. A real shower might solve a lot of problems for you right now. It won’t fix much, but being truly clean would make a lot of things feel better.

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Dr. Keller says.

You give her a look. You don't smell that bad. She should know, she’s the one that cleaned the blood off of you and the one who gave you the sponge bath this morning.

She gives you a look back. “I meant it would be nice to take a real shower. Once we get where we’re going, we can work on the logistics of a shower.”

Right. You can’t exactly stand for a long time on your own, not to mention the problem of only being able to use one arm without bringing blinding pain upon yourself. That’s where the pack would come in handy.

The thought of one of them seeing you vulnerable like that, putting their hands on you right now makes your skin crawl.

A shiver runs down your spine, your body shuddering uncontrollably. You grunt as your shoulder screams in pain, another electric jolt burning straight through your nerves and down through your feet. Fuck. You mouth the word, squeezing your eyes shut. It makes your stomach churn, the soup starting to burn a path back up through your esophagus.

“Breathe for me.” Dr. Keller says, putting a gentle hand on your right shoulder.

In and out. You focus on your breath, the only thing you can do without feeling like you’re going to go insane from the pain. It’s all you can do in this situation. It’s the only thing you can do at all. Breathe. Just keep breathing.

Sometimes you don’t want to.

The pain passes as it always does, leaving behind a subtle ache that will linger until the next flare of pain. It’s a constant, never-ending cycle that you can’t escape from. Weeks, Dr. Keller had said. It can take weeks to heal. You’ll be stuck in this cycle for weeks and weeks. What if it never heals? That is a possibility. It’s always a risk with any injury.

What if the rest of your life is like this?

You’re crying again, hot tears blazing a path down your cheeks. They won’t stop, they never stop. There’s a constant stream down your face, even in your sleep. You’ve woken to find your face and neck damp from the never ceasing flood of tears.

How you can’t wait for the time to come when you have none left.

You’d welcome the numbness at this point, greet it like an old friend and invite it in for tea. Anything over the pain and tears that won’t stop. The depression-fueled numbness that had filled you when Price and Gaz left, then Soap and Ghost would be a welcome relief at this point. Anything would be better than the pain.

You almost wish you were in a coma right now. Then you wouldn’t feel anything at all.

Dr. Keller puts the spoon back into the soup bowl before rolling the table to the side. She puts a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair as you cry. The room is silent aside from your sniffles, Dr. Keller not having to say a single word. The silence is almost a blessing. You’re tired of hearing words, of hearing people speak. There’s nothing anyone can say that will do anything to help you, to comfort you, to make it better.

There’s nothing anyone can do to make it better.

You’re so tired of being like this.

The sedative is kicking in before you even reach the airfield. She can see the way your head is drooping further and further forward in the car, your body jostling without any complaint. It had started kicking in before you even got into the car, as you offered very little resistance when Kyle helped her mauver you into the front seat. She chose Kyle out of everyone to help her in hopes it would be easiest on you. Your claimed alpha’s beta is a good place to start in rebuilding the bonds within the pack, and his calm demeanor certainly helps. He is a caretaker through and through, that beta trait prominent above the others in him. He would have made a good medic, had he gone that route.

Your chin drops to your chest as the car comes to a stop in front of the plane, your body slumping to the side against the door.

“She’s out.” Christine says, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Makes this easier.” Kyle says, getting out of the car.

They maneuver you into the wheelchair, Christine easing your head onto your right shoulder to avoid aggravating the left. The less pain you’re in when you come out of it, the better, though pain will be unavoidable. Kyle pushes the wheelchair up the ramp of the plane, Christine following close behind. She’s glad she gave you the sedative before you left the med center to avoid as much pain as possible. She almost wishes she had given it to you earlier, as getting you into a sweatshirt had been a battle of its own. Though, the longer it stays in your system, the longer you’ll sleep through the flight. The longer you sleep through the flight, the longer they can delay the inevitable emotional storm of being enclosed in a tight space with your pack.

If you’re lucky, you’ll be out of it long enough for them to reach the cottage without incident.

John is waiting near the front of the aircraft, his eyes watching carefully as Kyle helps maneuver you into a seat. Even with the turmoil in the pack bonds, an alpha will always feel protective over their omega. There’s some things that can’t be undone, even in such a fragile state. Some instincts can’t be unlearned, no matter what.

“I gave her a sedative.” Christine explains as she gets you as comfortable as possible in the seat. “It won’t last the whole flight, but it’ll take a while to wear off regardless.”

“Is that more for her or for us?” John asks.

“Both.” Christine says. “Mostly for her. It helps with the pain of moving around, but it will also keep her calm in close quarters like this.”

“Here.” John says, handing her something. It’s a blanket, brand new by the feel of it. “Johnny made a store run this morning. It’s going to get cold in here, so he got the warmest one he could find.”

Christine takes the blanket, the fabric thick and soft in her hands. It’s a touching gesture, speaking volumes of their desire to still care for you despite everything, their willingness to do what they have to, to keep the pack together. “Perfect.” She says, carefully draping it over you and tucking it around you before John gets you secured in the seat.

“It’s going to be a long flight.” John says, taking a step back.

“It is.” Christine says, pulling out her thermometer. She takes your temperature, letting out a hum at the number that pops up on screen. “I need to monitor her temperature.” She explains as John gives her a look. “It’s been spiking when she gets stressed.”

“She's not quite out of it yet, is she?” John asks.

“Not quite.” She says, putting the thermometer back in her bag. “I’ve only seen two omegas successfully come back from that point, and I know the number across the board isn’t very high. It takes a long time for the body and the brain to get back to normal.”

“And on top of everything that happened...”

She stares up at him for a long moment. “She’s very strong. I knew she was a fighter, but to come out the other side even where she is now...” Christine shakes her head. “I didn’t want to say this at the time, but I was expecting the worst. When that call came in about what state she was in...” She bites her lip, holding the emotions back. “Her resilience and fortitude is what kept her alive. That and Simon’s courage to do what needed to be done.”

“I know.” John says, looking past her. “We all owe a lot to him.”

Christine puts a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re doing what’s best for her. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it goes against every instinct you have, it’s what she needs.”

“That’s all that matters to us right now.” John says, staring down at her hand for a moment. “There’s nothing else we can do, so it’s time we start putting our priorities where they should have been the whole time.”

Christine gives him a small smile. “I’m proud of you for that. It takes a lot to unlearn the things you’ve been told since the beginning.”

The corner of John’s lips twitch before his face falls into the emotionless mask he’s been wearing for the last few days. “It’s about time we get our heads out of our arses.”

“I can’t blame you totally.” She shrugs. “We were all just doing what the initiative was telling us to do. We couldn’t have known. There wasn’t any room to question it.”

“I wish we would have figured it out sooner.” He sighs.

“Things might have been worse if the truth did come out sooner. If you started digging into the initiative too soon, Shepherd might have gotten antsy and taken more drastic measures to stop the truth from coming out entirely.” She glances down at you. “I think this was all inevitable.” She turns her gaze back to John. “What happened, happened. None of us can change that. All we can do is keep moving forward with what we have right now.”

He stares at her for a long moment. “The more time passes, the more I’ve come to realize why Kate chose you for this position.”

The corner of her lips turns up in a smile. “Well, I am rather good at my job, which, among other things, involves advocating on behalf of omegas.”

John huffs. “Wish we would have listened sooner.”

“You can’t change the past.” She repeats, looking down at you again. “But you can change the future.”

You woke from your sedation about four hours from Helston.

Well, ’woke’ might have been too strong of a word for it. Your eyes opened, but you were still hazy, movements sluggish and entirely unaware of the world around you. You floated between sleep and awareness for an hour before finally gaining consciousness completely. Awareness took quite a while to return, though. Not until they were moving you to the car from the plane.

Even still you’re groggy, slumped against the door in the back seat of the car. You blink slowly, eyes unfocused as you stare out the window at the blur of green passing by.

“How is she?” John asks from the driver's seat, glancing up at the rearview mirror.

“Cow.” You say, blinking slowly as the car passes a field of cows.

“Still out of it.” Christine answers from the back seat where she's sitting next to you. Your response might have been enough to answer that. “Better than being in pain, though.”

“How long will it take for her to get out of it?” Kyle asks.

“Hopefully she’ll be more lucid by the time we get there, but it could take a few hours for it to completely wear off.” Christine says, wiping a bit of drool from your chin. “Probably not a bad thing. This is a big change, and with everything that’s happened, it’s going to take some time to settle in.”

“Things are going to be rough.” Kyle says.

“Yes.” She agrees. “Being enclosed in a small space with the people you want to see the least in the world isn’t an ideal situation. It’ll be an adjustment for everyone. I trust all of your abilities to adapt, though. Just don't go in expecting things to be the way they were.”

John's hands tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. Kyle cracks his window open, prepared for the thickening of John's scent in the air. Christine knows she hit a nerve, but it needed to be said. Even if you were open to forgiveness right now, even if they had chosen to go after you right away, things still wouldn't be the same. Things won't ever be the same. It is their fault deep at the root of it. Those cameras were put up because of them, you were taken because of them. You were chosen for the “initiative” because of them, because Kate thought you'd fit in well with them. Their decisions shaped your life, and will continue to shape your life.

Can you ever come to forgive them? Christine likes to think so. She has the hope that they can put in the work and regain your trust and earn eventual forgiveness. She knows you'll allow them to try once the initial hurt and emotions begin to fade, once the two of you put in enough work to start processing the trauma around the events that happened. It will take time. Probably a long time.

She'll be there every step of the way.

“Ashley did some shopping for us, picked up some stuff to get us until we can get into town.” Kyle says, looking at his phone.

“Good.” John says, his shoulders starting to relax. “Should wait a couple days before going. Get settled in.”

“She's still working on cleaning up. Probably still be there when we get there.” Kyle says, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“That's fine. We’ll probably have to utilize her a bit.”

“Doubt she'll complain.” Kyle says, looking out the window. “Be thrilled to have something to do besides work.”

You let out a quiet groan, shifting against the door. “Hurts.”

“I know, honey.” Christine says, carefully adjusting your left arm. “I’ll give you more pain meds once we get to the cottage.”

“We’ll be there in half an hour.” John says, glancing up at the rearview mirror again before turning his eyes back to the road.

The half hour seems to take the longest as you continue to become more and more lucid and aware. The pain sets in first, your brain picking up on those signals before anything else. John’s knuckles are white around the steering wheel as you begin to whine and whimper around every bend in the road and turn he has to make, every jostle of the car. Every instinct in his body tells him to pull over and comfort you, but he can’t. It’s more important to get to the cottage, and there’s no guarantee you’d even let him. It might make things worse.

The last thing you need right now is for things to get worse.

Christine breathes a sigh of relief as they pull up to the cottage, glad she can finally get you somewhere more comfortable. You’ve been in far too many uncomfortable positions today, moved around too much. She would have liked to keep you in Texas a couple more days, but she knew as soon as you were able to travel, the better. The sooner they could get off the grid, the better.

The sooner they could get out of Texas, the better.

Kyle is getting the wheelchair out of the trunk when Johnny and Simon pull up, not having been far behind. They likely took a turn around the back roads to ensure no one was following and to keep things from looking too suspicious.

Christine keeps you from slumping out of the car as she carefully opens the door on your side. You’re more awake than you were, blinking up at her with almost startlingly aware eyes.

“Crutch.” You pout when she pulls the wheelchair closer.

She gives you a look. “Honey I'm not sure you could even stand right now.” You may be more aware, but that doesn’t mean your body is working as it should.

You let out a defiant noise as you attempt to get your legs out of the car, trying to hide your grunts of pain and discomfort.

She's tempted to stand there and let you try, but she knows all hell will break loose if she lets you fall. She's not willing to take that risk, not to mention it will cause you more pain to get you up off the ground.

“Come on,” She says, stopping you before you can get your feet under you. “Nice and slow.”

You let out a quiet growl of indignation but you allow her to help you, your legs trembling as she eases you up. Kyle is there with the wheelchair, getting it as close to you as possible so she can sit you down quickly.

“Ow.” You breathe, eyes pinched closed as you breathe through the pain.

“I know.” She says, patting your good shoulder lightly. She's glad she put you in the sweatshirt before you left Texas. It's chilly outside, chillier than it was further inland a few days ago.

It's hard to believe it's only been a few days since you were taken. Barely even a week. So much happened in such a short period of time. It feels like it’s been weeks since everything started, but then again, it had been weeks since John and Kyle first left. It had been weeks since you had been around your whole pack together by the time you were taken. The deep depression you sunk into before the events of the last week had been draining you slowly for weeks before this. It had started before John and Kyle were deployed, back to that day when you revealed the cameras and the secret you had been hiding from them.

How long you’ve gone in such turmoil.

How far you still have to go.

The path up to the door is rocky and uneven, the wheelchair jostling as she pushes it up towards the door. She can picture your face, the way it has to be screwed up in pain. You're silent though, holding it all in. She almost wishes you weren't being silent about it.

The door is already open, light shining from inside as she approaches. Kyle is in the house already, having gone ahead to greet his sister. John is right behind the two of you as Christine turns to wheel you up the steps into the house. His eyes are on you, focused and ready should you fall.

Christine would never let you fall, and from the way your hand is gripping the arm of the chair for dear life, you probably couldn't anyway.

She wheels you through the entryway, the inside warmer thanks to a fire that's burning. It's a nice cottage, far nicer than she had been expecting judging from the outside.

Johnny lets out a low whistle as he enters behind John, looking around. “Yer parents own this?”

“It was given to our mum by our grandparents. They did some...renovations before they passed it on.” Kyle says.

“Yer tellin’ me.” Johnny says.

It looks new inside. New wood floors, freshly painted walls. The furniture looks like she would expect to find in an English seaside cottage, though. Kyle’s parents went to France for summer vacation instead of utilizing the cottage, and none of his siblings had wanted to use it, he told them. It looks almost perfect, like it came right out of a home renovation show. Kyle’s sister must have worked some sort of magic to get it this clean.

It is a very nice cottage. It’s small, the door opening right to the main area. There’s two couches and a chair in the middle of the room around a coffee table. To the left of the couches is a fireplace, the fire already lit and crackling. It looks original, likely having been untouched in the renovations. There’s a door to the left of the fireplace closer to the main entryway. A bedroom maybe? To the right of the front door are two doors, one on the far wall and one facing the front door.

The stairs are in the middle of the house, leading up to the second floor where there’s likely more bedrooms. On the far side of the main area is the dining area and beyond that is a sliding glass door. Around the corner on the far side of the stairs is likely the kitchen. She can see the fridge from where she’s standing. It’s new. Very new. Makes her wonder just how long ago it had been renovated.

“Everyone, this is my sister Ashley.” Kyle says, introducing the other woman in the room.

“Hello,” she says, giving everyone a wave and a dazzling smile.

She’s dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt, her medium box braids pulled up into a bun on top of her head. They look a lot alike, her and Kyle. Tall and slender and stunning. They have the same smile and the same soft brown eyes. She's wearing scent blockers, but Christine can imagine her having a soft scent like lavender or something fresh like mint.

“There's two rooms down here, and two upstairs.” Kyle says. “The main bedroom is through there.” He points towards a door to their left. “I figure we'll give that to our omega. The bathroom in there has a walk-in shower.”

“Perfect.” Christine says. That will make getting you in and out of the shower easier at least, and you won’t have to go far to use the bathroom.

“You should take the other room down here.” John says, looking at Christine. “So you can be close in case of an emergency.”

And so you don't have to be too close to them, so you won’t feel like they’re hovering.

He doesn't have to say that part out loud.

“I put new sheets on all the beds.” Ashley says. “I also picked up everything Kyle sent on the list. Food, some clothes, some other necessities.”

You let out a quiet groan, Christine patting your head gently. You have to be exhausted and sore after the day. She should give you another dose of pain medicine like she said she would. You’re going to need it tonight.

“Let's get you laying down for a bit.” She says, wheeling you towards the door.

Kyle opens it for her, revealing a spacious room with a big window looking out towards the sea. You're going to spend a lot of time in front of that window, she thinks. The bed is in the middle of the room, and there’s two chairs facing the window. She’s almost tempted to sit you in one of the chairs, but laying down will be more comfortable for you right now.

You're still too out of it now to care much as she wheels you to the double bed. With Kyle's help they get you horizontal, Christine draping the blanket at the end of the bed over you. It’s not very soft, but it will do for now. She’ll have to get the guys to pick up some soft blankets for you when they go to town. She has a whole list of things starting in her head she needs them to pick up.

She leans your crutch against the end of the bed just in case you might need it for an emergency. She hopes you’ll yell first, but you always have been stubborn. Being mostly bed-bound has only made that worse.

“I’m going to go look through the things Ashley picked up.” She says, patting your leg gently. “Get some rest.”

Christine leaves the door open a crack as she exits, wanting to give you a little privacy as you nap, or at least she hopes you’ll nap. It’s going to be a rough adjustment, and you’re going to need as much rest as you can get.

“I’m assuming you’re Christine.” Ashley says, walking up to her.

“I am.” She says, giving Ashley a smile.

She can’t help but get lost in Ashley’s soft gaze for a moment. The Garrick siblings seem to share the same magnetic energy. There’s something almost ethereal about them. She could easily imagine them with glowing halos and angel wings. It’s almost like she’s being blessed with the opportunity to look upon her. She could spend an hour staring at Ashley’s face and not grow tired of looking at her.

“I picked up the items Kyle said you needed.” She says, motioning to the bags on the coffee table, pulling Christine out of her daze. “I couldn’t find the exact nutrient powder you asked for, so I got one that was as close as I could find.”

Christine glances through the bags. She was thorough, getting at least two of everything.

“I got warmer clothes for her too, since it can get chilly out here this time of year. Just some simple things for now until you guys get into town.” Ashley says. “I did some research too and I read that omegas like comforting things so I picked up some extra blankets and pillows” Ashley says, motioning to a couple bags sitting on the couch. “I also picked up this,” She pulls a stuffed dog from one of the bags, holding it up. “It was the softest one I could find. I thought it might help.”

A small smile forms on Christine’s face, her heart fluttering in her chest from the sweet, thoughtful gesture. Ashley doesn’t even know you, nor did she know exactly what happened to you, and yet she went so far as to pick up some comfort items for you. You have nothing right now, only the borrowed clothes on your back. All of your belongings are still on base, all of the things that you had built to make your perfect nest. Would you want any of them still? Or have they been tainted by the events of the last few weeks?

That Ashley thought to do this has warmth flooding Christine’s body. You can have some comfort now without having to wait for their trip to town. She almost feels the urge to cry. She wants to hug Ashley, thank her over and over for her kindness. Ashley has no idea how much her small act of kindness means, how much it's going to mean.

A smile forms on Christine’s face as she stares at the stuffed dog. “It’s perfect.”

You can hear it.

In the distance, the quiet roar reaches your ears as you’re dragged from the sweet arms of sleep. It must be a dream, or perhaps the sedative is still clinging to your mind, making you imagine things.

No.

You’d know that sound anywhere.

The effort to push yourself up to sit is a momentous one, every cell in your body protesting after a day of being moved and jostled. The last thing you want is to move right now, but you have to.

The pain meds have done little to help.

The crutch at the end of your bed must be a thousand miles away as you sit there and stare at it. The ache in your body only increases as you become more and more aware of the pain, almost as if it can tell what it is your mind is planning.

The door is cracked open, letting in a slit of light from outside. It’s dark in the room, the curtains pulled over the window. It’s a blessing compared to the bright yellow light outside the door. You welcome the darkness as your head begins to throb. You could call for assistance. You’d get more help than you needed. More help than you want.

No.

You need to do this.

The effort it takes to get standing nearly sends you back onto the bed. The pain nearly blinds you as your feet touch the floor, your body leaning against the side of the mattress out of desperation. If you fall, you’ll never be alone again. You can’t afford that. You don’t want that.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

The breaths out of your nose are short and sharp as you reach for the crutch, fingers trembling in the effort to fight the pain threatening to blind you. You’re trembling like a leaf in a storm as your fingers finally wrap around the cool metal. The rubber bottom drags across the floor as you tug it over to you, holding it against your chest for a moment.

Breathe. That’s what you need to do. Breathe.

In and out.

Nice and slow.

The pain is only a memory. The pain is nothing. The memories forming at the edges of your mind will take over and wipe out the pain and the misery. You just have to be sure. You just have to be certain.

You push yourself upright using the crutch, tucking it under your arm. You should go back to bed. You should rest.

No.

You need to know.

You need to be certain.

The first step you take nearly makes you sick.

It’s like watching a baby deer walk for the first time, knees wobbling, feet shaking. You lean heavily on the crutch, your determination the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the floor in a heap. That might almost hurt worse than forcing yourself to stand upright.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Inch by inch you move across the floor, silently grateful for the socks on your feet. They allow you to slide across the hardwood, but they also pose a threat. Slide too far and you’ll lose your feet.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

The determination and your desire for certainty is what keeps you sliding inch by inch across the floor towards that strip of blinding light in front of you. It’s hovering before you, threatening you. How do you know there’s not one of them standing guard, waiting for you to try and leave? You can’t know. You don’t have a clue what’s waiting on the other side of that door. It could be nothing. It could be your entire pack.

Breathe.

In and out.

You take a moment at the door, resting your aching feet. Your body is throbbing from the effort to keep yourself upright, the sedative still numbing your brain and your movements. It’s like treading through honey, everything twice as hard as it should be. You can walk. You’ve done it before. You did it in the medical center.

You can do it here.

You use the crutch to push the door open more, your free arm still tucked in a sling to keep you from moving it. Reaching for it with that arm would have put you on the floor, would have caused more pain than you needed, would have made you fall.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Breathe.

The light burns. Explosions of yellows and whites erupt behind your eyelids as you screw them tight against the sudden onslaught. The sun is in the room, shining its rays directly into your sensitive eyes. Your stomach churns, your fingers tightening around the crutch so tight your knuckles begin to ache. The oppressive light makes you want to recede back into the darkness of the room behind you like a vampire shying away from the light of day.

No.

You won’t be defeated by the harsh artificial lighting. You need to know.

You need to be certain.

The others are moving around. You can hear voices around the corner, voices upstairs with thudding footsteps. The air is thick with a mesh of scents, cleaning chemicals, and the burn of scent blocker. Your nose wrinkles at the sudden onslaught against your senses, your sedated brain making it all seem so much worse.

You need to know.

The hardwood floors continue and you use them to your advantage as you shuffle your way across the main area. The fire crackles as you pass, the popping of a log making you startle. Your feet slide again, your body pushing up against the crutch to hold yourself steady.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Your target is dead ahead, a mile away but so close you can almost taste it. Just past the dining table and straight on till morning.

Despite your snail’s pace, no one seems to notice you shuffling your way across the house. It should make you upset, the fact that none of them notice you moving around, but instead it makes you glad. They’d try to stop you if they noticed you, turn you around and shuffle you back to bed. Or worse, they’d carry you.

How easily you could slip away, though.

Well...in theory.

Perhaps that’s why they ‘re not paying you any mind. How far could you really go in your current state?

Why would you want to stray from the only safe space you have?

The world outside is more dangerous with the state you’re in. Not just because of your injuries and your status, but also because you know Shepherd is still out there, and for all you know Graves is as well.

He could be waiting right outside the door.

No.

They’d know.

They’d protect you.

They failed.

You push past the fear in favor of certainty as you push forward, passing the dining table in your slow crawl towards the sliding glass door.

It poses an entirely new threat as you stand before it, staring out the darkened glass. You have to get it open. Getting it open takes strength and you’re down to one hand that’s trying to keep you upright.

You have to know.

You have to be certain.

You lean your weight on the crutch, ignoring the way it digs into your armpit as you reach for the handle. You click the lock, wrapping your fingers around the plastic before pulling. Your body screams with pain as you tug, the door sliding in the track as slowly as you had moved across the small living area. It’s almost as if it's mocking you.

It’s open only as wide as you need to crutch your way through, doing your best not to knock your left shoulder against the frame.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Breathe.

You can smell it.

The salty sea air invades your senses, slipping up through your nose and straight into your brain. Memories come flooding back of childhood vacations back when things were simpler. Back when nothing mattered but the sand and the water and avoiding getting chased by your brothers carrying the piece of seaweed they found.

Polkadot bathing suits, bright red to be seen easily. Toes in the water, sand everywhere. The nap in the silent car home.

How simple life was back then. How easy life was.

Your heart aches for those days again. The days when you could exist without a care in the world, trusting your pack would keep you safe, trusting your family would care for you. Your mind yearns for that sense of safety and security again.

The world is grey as you hobble across the porch, the grey seeming to go on forever. You missed it, the chill in the air, the gloomy grey overhead. How you yearned for the gloom of England while stuck in the heat of Texas.

Anything is better than Texas.

Your forward shuffle pauses at the edge of the deck, your eyes looking out into the grey. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare out into the distance, the ache in your chest intensifying. It blocks out the pain in your body, numbing you to everything else as you stand there, legs trembling from the effort of going the short distance from your room to the end of the porch.

You can see it.

Emotions swirl inside of you like a hurricane as you stare out where the grey water meets the grey sky in the line of the horizon. Those emotions threaten to choke you as you stand there trembling at the edge of the porch. There’s a breeze, a cold one that bites through the fabric of your sweatshirt and into the skin below, but you don’t care.

You can’t care.

Your legs shake from the exertion, the neverending exhaustion that’s settled deep into your bones. It’s not just a physical exhaustion, but a mental one as well. It’s been a long week.

Only a week.

So much has happened in a week.

You want to sit. You want to sink down onto the porch and rest.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

There’s a pain in your chest as your breath catches in your throat. The emotions are whirling, tightening around your chest, squeezing your lungs until they feel like they might pop.

Breathe.

In and out.

You needed certainty. You needed to know.

You can hear it. You can smell it. You can see it.

A single tear rolls down your cheek as you stare out at the sea.

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

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phantomantz · 1 month

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finished s4 today and here are some questions I still have

-WHAT HAPPENED TO SLOANE???

-why on earth did raymond "I would take my year with you over a lifetime with someone else" chestnut just leave allison?? like I get if the actor couldn't/didn't want to be in the season but they could have at least come up with an explanation

-why did luther get his ape body back, its not connected to his powers at all. they just did it to make two bad jokes didn't they

-why did some of them get different/upgraded powers but luther and diego didn't?

-when klaus was shot and allison gave him the marigold why didn't he just stay dead? s3 established he has a choice in whether he comes back to life

-what is durango even supposed to be? reginald says that jennifer is more powerful than all of them put together but thats only if she comes into contact with them right?

-HOW DID SHE GET IN THE SQUID

-how did five start the commission

-there was a total of 43 marigold children and yet we only ever meet like 16 of them. who are the others?? Also wouldn't their marigold also have to be absorbed to reset the timeline? Unless it did all get absorbed off screen somehow

-if jennifer was so dangerous why didn't reginald just kill her instead of building an entire town to keep her trapped... i know he wouldn't have had a problem with it.

-also this is more reginald just being stupid but why on earth would he send his kids with MARIGOLD on a mission where he knew a girl with DURANGO would be when he knows if they just made contact it would end the world. ALSO ALSO reginald was literally there so why didn't he just blow her up himself!!?? this shit gets dumber the more i think about it

-five says that the day they were born the timeline shattered or whatever but isn't that just his fault? he's the one with the time travel powers so without him there would be no way to create other timelines. wouldn't it have made more sense for just five to sacrifice himself then...? I guess Viktor would have still ended the world but the commission literally wanted the world to end in that timeline so what's the deal

-how could claire and diegolilas kids still be alive when their parents never existed. that would've created another grandfather paradox according to this shows logic but nope!

-oh yeah and what was the deal with the ben on the train at the end of s3 ... Literally had nothing to do with anything

thats all i can think of rn... I'm sure theres more but... my head hurty. if anyone has an explanation to any of these lmk

#tua spoilers #tua s4 spoilers #tua season 4 #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua #tua s4 #klaus hargreeves #allison hargreeves #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves #luther hargreeves #ben hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #lila pitts #reginald hargreeves

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lufyuu · 3 months

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''River's Quest..?,,

Protagonist Oc [River!] x Bottom male Reader

Part 2! Part 1

Tw/s: overstimulation, rough rough sex, face fucking, dacryphilia, hair grabbing/pulling, jealous River, public sex, almost caught, a bit of degration, a bit of praising, a bit of edging.

[Loading...]

[System]

—Quest started—

`Click here for details`

Recently, you've made a new friend and River's been pouty about it even if you dont know the reason behind his poutiness. Not only that, he had become even more clingy than before, where ever you went, he was always not too far behind, making you feel a bit suffocated. It all started not too long ago. How you met your new friend, that is.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

"Hey can we be partners?", a feathery voice asked as a finger tapped your shoulder. This is the first time anyone has asked you to be their partner in a project, ever since that incident. Everyone's been too nervous to partner up with you seeing as River is always around you. Well, almost anyway. Today was different, River had a very important project to attend to, leaving you all alone in class. The moment the guy had asked you to partner up, it was immediately followed by the other classmates surrounding you with the same question, shoving the shy classmate aside. "Can we be partners!?", they all giddily said, making you feel overwhelmed at the sudden focus. You knew it was all because they wanted to get in River's good graces seeing as you're the closest person to him at the moment. Even closer than Aria, his very own 'girlfriend.' With the whole classroom being filled with the cacophony of voices, everyone wanting you to partner up with them, the teacher had no choice but to slam the board to get everyone's attention. "Everyone calm down, you're all being way too loud for anyone's liking, especially [Name]'s, how on earth will he be able to choose with you all talking on top of each other?" Thankfully, they all stayed quiet for a moment, looking at you with anticipation.

You decided to go with the guy who didn't try to make you go deaf, the one who had the guts to ask you in the first place before the domino effect took place. In all honesty, you should have paid more attention to the way his eyes scanned you up and down before sitting next to you.

"Thanks", he says, looking into your eyes for no reason in particular. You nod and begin to workout the project, pulling out your notes and laptop. "Let's start it right now since the deadline's pretty tight." Without your knowledge, he continues to stare at you even though you aren't looking directly at him. He eventually does snap out of it after you look at him, confused on why he's staring. Directing his focus on the task at hand. "Yeah..definitely", his voice sounded like a kid who was caught with his hand inside a cookie jar.

Reviewing over the material together, the two of you eventually map out the entire project, splitting the material between the both of you. You had the task of making the presentation while he had the task of condensing the material to make it easier to digest. You press on the power button on your laptop, expecting it to boot up immediately. Only to be greeted with a black screen. "Huh? I could've sworn I charged it last night", you scratch your head, confusion plastered on your face. "What's wrong?", he asked, despite his words, you felt it was void of any worry. You shake your head, "it's nothing, I'll just make the presentation at my dorm and send it to you afterwards", you begin to put back your notes and laptop into your bag. Coincidentally, the bell suddenly rings, indicating the end of class and school altogether. Though, before you could get up from your chair, you felt a tight grip on your wrist, stopping you. "Can I come over? It'll be much more efficient and effective", he smiles, expecting you to agree, "I don't know about that...", you hesitate since nobody from campus has ever been in your house, apart from your close friends that is. But, no harm would be done right? It's just a simple presentation.

Click! the lock clicked open as you turned the key. You grab the handle and pull it, opening the door to your dorm. Peaceful and quiet. Those are the words not a lot of students who live in dorms can use to describe their place due to having a messy roommate or what not. Fortunately for you, your roommate had moved out not long ago, leaving the whole dorm to yourself. "No roommate?" "nope", you answer simply, getting the point across quickly. "Take a seat on the sofa, I'm just going to put my things down, and we can get started", you grab your laptop out of your bag before placing it near your bed. The laptop is placed on your desk, you plug it in and make sure that this time it's on. The last thing you want now is to prolong the guy's stay. You sit down next to him, notes in hand. "Oh right, I never got your name", he perks up at this, "it's Trav!", "nice to meet you, Trav, I'm–", "[Name], yes I know", he cuts you off almost excitedly. He really is unpredictable. Partly because of this, the atmosphere becomes awkward, the two of you not having any topics to bring up.

"Well...Do you want a drink? I can make us some hot chocolate or tea if you prefer that", you try to break the awkward silence with a question, "some hot chocolate sounds nice", he nods as he says this. You get up to boil some water as you get two cups and two packets of hot chocolate mix. "Hope you don't mind instant hot chocolate", you chuckle, "of course not", you could hear him laugh a bit aswell. At least you managed to break the awkwardness for just a moment. The whole time you were making the hot chocolate, you felt him starin at you but whenever you turned around, he wouldn't be looking at you at all. This whole thing was kinda creeping you out but what could you do? You were the one who picked him to be your partner in the first place.

With two cups of hot chocolate in your hands, you head back to the couch and hand him a cup. He thanks you and takes a sip of the drink, "delicious!", he says while looking at you, not paying attention to the cup as some of the liquid spills onto your shirt, "ow shit!", you wince, feeling the hot chocolate on your skin. Seeing this, Trav remains calm, reaching over to grab a few tissues and wiping your shirt a bit, "I think you should take this off", you nod, you'll just change to another shirt, no big deal. You tug your shirt over your head, your hair being ruffled a bit and you get up to toss it in the laundry basket. Trav stared at your half naked body, oogling at your frame before you finally find a sweater to put on, ending his wandering eyes from looking even more.

It's been a month since your first meeting with Trav. You noticed his shy persona going away little by little. Now he's definitely more confident. At least he has the confidence to be 'jokingly flirtatious' with you. Not to mention you surprisingly haven't gotten a love quest ever since you started hanging out with Trav more than River. River took notice of this quickly. He was only gone for a day, and you already made yourself a friend? A friend who dares to flirt with you no less. Do you not know who you are? You ought to be more careful.

Due to this, River has been even more protective of you. He even holds your hand tightly in class under the table. And at this moment, he'd doing exactly that. His fingers intertwined with yours, unwilling to let go even if your hand's sweating. "Let go of my hand—", "no", he answers firmly, not even looking at you as though it was an obvious answer. You huff, you've tried to pull away but his grip's too strong. It just ends up with him pulling the "puppy" eyes on you, making you sigh in defeat almost everytime. "That's all for today's material, please don't forget to turn in your work tomorrow morning on my desk", the teacher says as she walks out the door with the class finally over. You thought you'd be free from River's grip, but no, he was still holding your hand when you got up. "Where are you going?", he asked, looking up at you to which you reply, "none of your business", if this was a cartoon, an irk mark would have appeared on your forehead. You've barely had enough time to yourself, let alone with friends after getting into River's sight. "Let go", your tone somewhat frustrated, hoping he'd let go. This of course, doesn't work, "I'll go with you—", "hey River, can you help me with this?", a random classmate comes up to his desk, handing him a big stack of paper, he reaches for the papers with both hands, letting go of yours in the process and leaving an opening for you to finally sprint out of class to hang out with your friend.

You thought River would follow you but when you look back, he's nowhere to be seen, making you let out a sigh of relief rather than defeat. Looking around, you find yourself at the end of a hallway connecting to a garden. You check your phone to see it's 3:10PM. Trav had promised to meet you here so the two of you could walk home together after he showed you something in the garden. But it seems like he's running a bit late considering it's been 10 minutes since the promised time. You were late too but considering he hasn't even arrived yet, you were quite early. You decide to give him a call. *ring* *ring*, but no answer. "Did his teacher hold him back?", you wonder as you stand there waiting for him to show up.

After a couple more minutes, you felt a pair of hands covering your eyes, covering your sight. "Trav?", you guess only to hear a very pouty, "Trav!?" Turning around, you were met face to face with River, "you thought I was Trav?", his expression turns gloom, disappointed and blue. Seeing this, you roll your eyes, he's probably pretending like he always is to get your sympathy, "I was expecting Trav to show up, he's running a bit late", you explain the situation with a tired look, "kindly fuck off", you smile with a hint of anger. It's been ages since you walked home with a friend, he should at least let you breathe once in a while. Just as you say that, he grabs your wrist, pulling you to the storage room, which is conveniently placed within that hallway, not letting you slip away.

He closes the door with one hand, the other still gripping your hand just as hard. "[Name], you have no idea what Trav will end up doing. You do know who you are, don't you?", he asks as if it's the mosy obvious question in the world. You squint your eyes in confusion, "what do you mean?", he opens his mouth to say something but stops to rub his forehead a bit, "have you not checked the system window?", this made you even more confused, what reason would you have to check it? You shake your head. He stays silent for a bit, his face looks as if he's finally put one and one together. A sigh is let out before he speaks, "so that's why you've been so idiotic and oblivious", you're clearly offended by this statement, no, this lie. "Excuse you."

"You've made me upset, [Name]", he pouts once more, "you know, I was actually starting to think you liked him", he says with another sigh, a sigh of relief this time, "who?", you ask, confused still, "Trav!", he says in a slightly louder voice, your hand free of his grasp by now. You couldn't help but laugh at his admittion, "so..Let me get this straight, you were being an annoying bastard just because you got jealous of Trav?", you couldn't stop laughing. The mere thought of a protagonist getting jealous of an unimportant role was just hilarious. This comment made him frown, his emotions are not to be taken lightly. He'll definitely show you.

[System]

—River's Quest—

Accept the punishment given

"The what quest?", you raise an eyebrow at the title. On the other hand, River had a knowing smirk plastered on his face, the frown long gone. "I guess the system's on my side huh?", you look up at him, no longer distracted by the window as it closes by itself as always. You stare at him with a 'on your side? Please' look. "[Name], get on your knees", you chuckle, "you think I'd just do that? That's ridiculous—", just as you say those words, your knees give out on you, making you get on your knees infront of River with your phone being dropped on the floor next to you. Infront of his crotch. "You're such a good boy", he smiles with his eyes closed, happy at your obedience, "what just...", "what just happened? My dear angel, have you forgotten I'm the protagonist?", his hand extends to grab a handful of your hair, bending down a bit to meet eye to eye. His eyes intimidating like a predator's. Like someone who already knows the outcome. He stares at your eyes. You feel as if he's staring into your soul, you're terrified of this feeling, of him, of what he's able to do.

"Let go..", you manage to mumble out despite your fear. He tilts his head a bit in satisfaction hearing your weak voice. "Alright then", he lets go of your hair, you look down, trying to calm down from the fear you just experienced when, zippp, you hear a zipping sound coming nor too far from your face. Looking up, you see River already taking his hard-on out. You're once again face to face with his girthy cock. "Angel..Suck it", his eyes full of lust, you could have sworn there were hearts in them. You instinctively reach out for his cock, wrapping your hands around it before letting your lips wrap around his tip, earning a very satisfied huff, "that's it...go down on my cock", he encourages you to shove his dick deeper in your mouth, down your throat. You slowly but surely take more and more of him in your mouth, trying your best to not accidentally choke in the process which grows increasingly hard after a few seconds, you forgot how long he actually is. You look up to see his hand hovering over his mouth incase he accidentally moans too loud. Even if classes have ended for the day, it doesn't mean there aren't students still lurking around. "You can do better than that", he says as you've taken about half of his cock in your mouth. You wanted to throw a snarky comment at him but with your mouth full, you couldn't utter a single word, so you opted to glare at him instead. "A glare won't stop me from doing this", he says as you feel him grab another handful of your hair and making you take all of him in your throat. You choke, whine, and even shed a few tears due to the unexpected choking sensation. You could hear River let out a loud moan. Just you were adjusting, you felt River's grip tighten as he pulls you back until your lips were only touching the tip before pushing you back down, "what a shame Trav isn't here to see you choking on my cock", he smirks before repeating the move over and over again for a few seconds.

"[Name]?", speak of the devil, Trav is finally here. He calls out your name in the hallway. You can hear him so close to you, hindered by a single brick wall. You hear your phone buzzing on the floor, "what a bother..", River sighs, grabbing your phone and turning on do not disturb mode, putting it in his pocket to ensure it stays that way. "He isn't even answering the phone", Trav sighs as his footsteps get closer and closer to the storage room. River only tells you to "keep sucking." Those words alone were enough to make you keep sucking his cock even without him face fucking you. The door to the storage room slowly opens, "oh, River, have you seen [Name]?", the confused man asks, thank God you and River are behind stacks of boxes, Trav is unable to see the way you're sucking River so good. "[Name]? I haven't seen him since class ended, why?", River answers calmly as Trav scratches his head, "really? I could have sworn I heard his phone buzzing around here", he thinks to himself for a moment while River tries to hold in his groans and moans. "What are you doing here anyways?", Trav asks, taking a step into the room which makes you panic a bit hearing his voice get closer. River chuckles at your panicked expression, he then grips your hair to make sure your head stays in place, with all of his length in your mouth, doen your throat. "Please refrain from stepping any closer, I'm tidying up and wouldn't want any dust coming off of you", he smiles softly, admittingly a fake smile, at Trav, causing him to back away. "Oh alright then, don't let me disturb you", he says as he finally walks away, closing the door on his way out.

River turns his attention to you, eyes filled with tears, mouth filled with his cock, you could even taste his precum. You feel a tug at your hair, signaling for you to continue. You try your best to satisfy him, licking and sucking his cock so good. When you look up at him, you see his bored expression, "how do you expect me to cum when you're sucking like that?", he asks, expecting more from you. In order to satisfy himself, he starts to face fuck you, thrusting into your mouth once more, harder and faster this time to chase his climax. You could feel tears rolling down your cheeks, why is he so rough. "Now this...agh..is how to please me", he says in-between moans and breaths. You had a hard time breathing but it'd all be over soon as you could hear River say he's about to cum. "Don't swallow it yet", is what he says before cumming in your mouth, pulling out to see his thick cum overflowing your mouth, spilling a bit on the floor, "open your mouth", he demands which you obey. "Good", your mouth filled with cum, not being able to swallow due to his orders. "You took me so well, you can swallow now", he has a mischievous look on his face, fantasizing about all the things he can and will do to you in this very storage room.

"I've really been holding this in, won't you do more for me? You've been neglecting me these past few days and giving your attention to that pesky man", he refuses to say his name at this very moment in order to not ruin his own mood. Truth be told, Trav got under his skin simply for being around you. "[Name], stand up", your body moves by itself, letting you stand up on both your legs whjch were previously weak beyond belief. With his rough hands, River bends you over on one of the boxes, fortunately, it's stable enough to withstand the force. "You're so pretty, it's no wonder he'd want you", he scans your features and your clothed body, "but you're mine", he proceeds to grab your clothes and rip it into two. You cover yourself with your hands, "what was that for!", he doesn't answer, he only trails his hands down your chest, groping and squeezing your nipples to try and get a reaction out of you, which it does. "Ah..!", you moan out a bit, the sensation painful yet you feel pleasure at the same time. "I'm glad you're still as sensitive as last time we fucked", he turns his attention to your pants which without any hesitation, he pulls down with your boxers along with it leaving you naked. "R-River! We're still in school, what if someone sees, the door can't be locked you know!", you try to salvage what was left of your shirt but River beats you to it and throws them on the ground where you can't reach the pieces. "That's precisely why I want to fuck and mess you up here, angel", he pauses and then continues, "if anyone were to walk in here, they'd know you're fully mine, nobody else's."

With that reminder, he lifts up one of your legs and places it over his shoulder, that way, you cant close your legs even if you wanted to, giving him an easy access to your hole. "We haven't done it in a while, will you even be able to take it all the way in?", his teasing reminds you of all the times the two of you did this sort of act in class without anyone noticing due to whatever magic the system performed. "Damnit, if you're going to fuck me, stop talking and do it already!", you cover your face due to how red it is by now.

River doesn't say a single word. Instead, he uses two fingers to stretch you out, taking you by surprise once more as you moan loudly. God you hope nobody's near this specific hallway, if there is someone, both you and River would be found out. "You like that don't you? To have something of mine in you, you love it. Just wait for my cock to be inside of you", he can't stop the dirty talk when it comes to you.

You can feel his fingers stretching you out, moving around. His fingers are long and knows how to turn you on even more than you already are. You let out a string of moans, the pleasure being unreal. Even after a few minutes, you still writhed in pleasure from his fingers alone.

Your hole suddenly felt weirdly empty, you look at him to see him retracting his fingers. You look on, knowing his cock was going to enter you soon. He guides your hands to wrap around his neck, he positions his cock to be at your entrance and grabs your waist, "I'm not going to go easy on you angel", you swore his pupils were hearts for a second, his lust filled eyes looked into yours. In just a second and without any sort of warning, he thrusts all the way into you, you let out a mixture of a moan and a scream, the pain and pleasure mixing together until you can't form thoughts, all you can do is spill out even more tears. "Hah...all in one go, you're amazing angel", his praises go unnoticed by you due to how your eyes are rolling back from pleasure. Your hands which were once around his neck, scratched his back a bit. Fortunately for River, it did not tear skin. "Be careful there, I'll be leaving campus with blood all over my back if you keep doing that", he joked. Even you knew that he wouldnt mind that kind of thing. Infact, he'd probably love your scratches on him, it's as if you're 'marking' him in some way.

Once you clamed down from the initial shock, he wasted no time and started to thurst in and out of you. Hitting your spots just right as you moan out of pleasure from your academic rival. "Moan out my name angel, I want to hear it", even though you're a mess at this moment, you manage to say his name, "Ri-Riv...ahh...River!", with your shaky voice saying his name, he lets out a very satisfied hum and continues to pound your little hole, abusing it all while you're too weak to do anything about it. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climax. River certainly noticed this. In order to stop you from cumming so fast, he places his thumb over your cock head, you look at him, almost terrified at what he's doing. "You're not going to cum unless I let you, got it?", he's getting back at you for all those times you ditched him for Trav. "We're going to have a long, long day ahead of us."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Seven.

River has been abusing your hole with his cock for seven rounds. The only reason you know is because River himself kept count. He made sure to count every single round. It doesn't seem like he'll stop either. Both your bodies sweating, dripping with sweat by now. The room became humid, it felt as if the whole world stopped for just the two of you. You lost track of time, your perception of time ruined by how rough River has been fucking you. A minute feels like an hour because of him not letting you rest for even a second. You thought you'd die from pleasure if that was even a possible cause of death. Too much sex? That's one way to die.

With this being the eigth round, colors began to mix together, you lost focus a few rounds ago, only being able to see River's face, feeling the rhythm of his cock going and out of you. "N-no...more...", you somehow manage to mumble out."One more time..Angel", he responds as he's panting heavily, hands still gripping your waist like steel. With one final deep thrust to your prostate, you shiver as your cock releases more cum on your stomach along with River's cum which spilled into your hole once more, you could see a pool of cum on the floor and boxes. "Atta boy..", was all you heard before passing out right then and there.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

When you did awake, you were in River's arms. You look at him and blink a couple of times, covering your mouth as you yawn a bit. "Huh..?", you stare at River's resting face. He looks so peaceful, unlike the River who basically teases the shit out of you for a living. Thinking of it alone made you pissed so you let go of the thought to savor this very moment. You reach out one hand to stroke his hair a few times, his soft fluffy brown hair felt like a cloud. He opened his eyes and smiled at you, "enjoying the view, [Name]?", there he goes going back to his teasing self. You instantly retract your hand, "no", you simply answered and closed your eyes once more. He wouldn't let you avoid him that easily though. "Heyyy look at mee", he pouts, trying to get you to open your eyes with a few soft nudges. You eventually caved in and the two of you met eye to eye. "Angel, you're gorgeous", he says out of the blue, "where did that even come from", you giggle a bit from the sudden compliment, "can't I compliment my boyfriend!?", "boyfriend? We're not even dating yet", you say that but you definitely saw the appeal in it. "Cmonn, admit it, you like me dontcha [Name]?", he has a cheeky smile, he knows he's hard to resist, almost impossible to resist to be very honest. "Is this your way of asking me to be your boyfriend?", "maybeeeee what do you say?", he gets up, using his palm to rest his head as he looks at you, "do you want to be?", you pretend to think about it, "hm, after you've fucked me over 10 times? I don't know..", you respond sarcastically before eventually laughing at your own words, "I assume that's a yes", he laughs too before tackling you and getting on top of you. He leans for a kiss but you suddenly remember something.

"River, why was Trav able to see you..? Plus why was the quest even named after you???", you ask, usually the love quests would make the both of you invisible to others, why was it different that time? And especially the sudden title change??"I'm the protagonist silly, I can do whatever I want with the system— oops, cat's out of the bag", he says nonchalantly, "you WHAT!?", you yell in shock, turns out the rumour is real afterall, "ah ah, don't go around telling people this, it wouldn't be as fun if everyone knew", he sighs a bit but you could tell it wasn't all that serious to him.

[System]

Welcome, [Name] [L. Name], after completing the quest, you have been registered as The Protagonist's other half

With the window basically in your face, you read it out loud and get shocked once more, causing you to get up and suddenly lose all feeling in your two legs. Fortunately for you, River caught you in time. "I fucked you real good huh?", he chuckles while you're in his arms basically processing information and the fact you'd probably not be able to go to classes for 3 days because of how rough River fucked you. "River you damn horny bastard!"

Needless to say, River had to carry you around for about 3 days. He doesn't regret it one bit as this showed everyone the two of you are a thing now. Eventually even Trav stayed away from you due to the glares River would throw his way everytime he got close. Whenever someone got close enough to ask what had happened, River would answer in the most brutally honest way he could.

"I fucked him too hard"

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And it's finally out yall the wait is over😘‼️ its currently 5AM and I'm posting this lmao

×For a bit of context, reader had always had the role of being River's love interest ever since he slept with River, he only never bothered to check the system roles, however, River and Trav do know that reader's their goal/possible love interest which is why theyre kinda all over reader. Trav is River's love rival which is why he hates it whenever Trav breathes, he wishes he would js drop dead.

#「 by the hands of xin 」#bottom male reader #male reader #oc x reader #oc x male reader #x male reader #lgbtq #mlm #top male character #Xin's River Sterling ☆

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