#i’m dark urge sorcerer

[autoneurotic]

wild magic sorcery is so fun so far i’ve turned myself into a sheep mid battle, ensnared AND dealt damage to me and my whole team, have summoned multiple mephits that are of course not on my side, blinded myself in fog

[steelsartcorner]

BG3 Comic: An Unwelcome Surprise

(Be forewarned: Dark Urge Act 3 Spoilers. Post is tagged. Click “read more” for the full comic.)

I always find myself wondering about the side conversations that must happen between the other characters while your PC is busy talking to the plot point givers.

[hawkogurl]

Wip of a certain extremely normal man

[bipolaroobito]

my tav: silly goofy little guy

my good dark urge: serious sweet little girl

my durge: elf Jason Vorhees

[zazora]

So I have a few characters/playthroughs of BG3, but all of them were still in Act 1 and I wasn’t really vibing with any of them.

I was getting bored and decided to start a Dark Urge playthrough and I found it surprisingly really fun. I actually went back to the beginning and started playing normally and resisting the urge instead of making the evil choices and it made me realize something.

Playing the Dark Urge as your default character is honestly the best way to play the game in my opinion. I love the idea of a character trying to be the best person they can be but constantly having these gruesome instincts. It’s made my playthrough so compelling and I feel like my character that I created is its own character in the story (unlike my previous ones). I don’t mean to dis Tav, but I feel like more people should play the Dark Urge as something other than an evil playthrough.

[erme-aeterna-arts]

started a playthrough as a githyanki bard durge, and multiclassed them into a wild magic sorcerer, and now i really like this combination for narrative reasons

like the specificity of bardic magic is that it needs an instrument as a conduit, and i thought what if pre-orinlobotomy durge was a sorcerer, but now they don’t remember how to control and channel their magic properly + maybe they can’t really do that anymore due to brain injury, so now they are using music to concentrate on their old magic and direct, um, the tides of chaos in the right direction

but getting wild magic surges in the most unexpected moments in battle also always sends a wave of panic through them, because it reminds them how much they don’t remember, know or control their own body

[handsfreepizza]

Please meet Bel, they’re working through some stuff

[morgotts-moved]

durge time 😌

[galedekarios]

i'm reading a new interview tim downie gave about gale and it offers some of tim's own headcanons about gale, as well as tim's thoughts and insights on gale's character:

Nerds & Beyond: I like that you mentioned that the game is full of rounded characters because they are, they all have different aspects that make them feel real. I adore that Gale specifically is so serious and studious, but at the same time he has this really playful side — he often jokes about how he was a mischievous youth, he encourages other people like Arabella to do so, he understands when The Dark Urge first mentions their violent thoughts. There is a lot of nuance and depth there. But the quality that I love with Gale most is that obviously he is very ill when we first meet him – not that we know immediately – and he’s dealing with a lot of chronic pain. I find him incredibly selfless because he takes that day-to-day head on to help the party, which is an aspect I feel continues to show throughout the three acts. What’s your favorite quality of Gale’s, or what did you take away from him? Tim Downie: It’s so interesting hearing you say that, because I had so many different feedbacks about what people take from the character and sometimes things really surprise you. It’s interesting hearing that such and such has taken that particular aspect, because there are broad things like “He’s funny,” and that’s quite nice, that’s a nice trait, though not one you necessarily get to see that much. It’s so interesting hearing other people’s views about what they take from Gale.  The idea of dealing with chronic pain I found really interesting and an interesting subplot to play, and that was the great thing about doing something like this is that it is so unbelievably nuanced. You have so many layers that just keep going and going and going, as much as we all contain multitudes within ourselves. We all deal with these things, but only certain things pop up to the surface at any given point.  What did I take from Gale, though? I liked his studiousness. I would imagine that he was probably bullied as a kid for it, and he was probably a bit of a joker because he was bullied, and he uses that as a defense. But an even bigger defense for him is “I now know stuff that I didn’t before,” and that’s a power. It’s very similar to when you are being bullied and you’re the funny one – that’s your power, that’s your thing. “I may not be able to hurt you in a traditional sense, but I can say things that will make you feel pain,” which is a very different thing because you physically can’t go after them.  That’s the wonderful thing about acting and this character as well is being able to explore all these things that you might not have, that you might have gone, “I’m not gonna look at that again, I don’t want to deal with that,” and then it brings it up again and it’s like, “Oh, this is actually quite cathartic,” to re-explore these these moments of sorrow and loss and how you deal with grief and things like that and heartbreak and how you get over that.  It’s not all just tears, you do try and make a joke of it.

i really like that they are addressing the topic of gale's chronic pain. it's something that doesn't get addressed often, not even in the game itself.

i also found his answer as to why people might connect to gale very nice:

Nerds & Beyond: Gale is the most popular origin character to play as. What is it about him that you think allows so many different players to connect with him to the depths the fandom has? Tim Downie: I really don’t know. I think you’d have to ask the players that, ‘cause I don’t know, to be quite honest with you. He’s a wizard, and who wouldn’t want to be a wizard at the end of the day? I always say the difference between wizards and sorcerers is that sorcerers just pretend – they just assume they know what they’re doing, but a wizard has really learned this trade. And so there’s that kind of weight of knowledge and learning, which I would love to play as and be for a length of time.  I think it’s also the frailties. I like characters, and a lot of people do I’m assuming, that have flaws, otherwise you’ve made them completely unapproachable. To be completely superhuman or completely extraordinary at something then removes the humanity from it because it becomes like, “Well, that’s never gonna happen.” But when there’s a flaw, when there’s, “Oh, I’ve got that wrong, too,” or like, “My knees hurt” as you say, or “I’ve got a bit of a headache. I really don’t want to do this,” “You’re really annoying me, this is very annoying, could you please hurry up?” or “Stop licking the damn thing,” it’s always those moments that are fun because it shows what we’re all thinking at that point, it removes it from almost archetype and stereotype and it becomes human in a way.

gale is approachable and likeable, has flaws, but is genuinely nice. i think that very much sums up his character.

this bit here made me laugh:

Nerds & Beyond: When you’re talking about those different layers in the humanity building, I think one of the most important aspects in this game is the more “background” or passive dialogue, so dialogue that is prompted in the world and not in the cut scenes.  For instance — the first time I made Gale sneak he immediately complained about his knees, and it was such a real moment where he was just like, “Oh, don’t make me do this. This is not what I’m here for, I’ve got bad knees and I’m not made for this.” Did you have any of those background lines or moments that stick out as being particularly fun to craft?  Tim Downie: I remember the first time I ever had to do waiting, I found it infinitely interesting in so many ways. The idea that I did actually just have to wait and just actually, “Hmm…” Those little things I find really funny because they’re probably the closest to me that the character ever gets. His waiting mannerisms are kind of very English – slightly annoyed and I’m not going to show it to you though because we’re all being very nice, but I’ll do it with a huff and a slightly sarcastic, “Well, that’s great. Another 20 minutes. That’s great.” Those kinds of sentiments I found wonderful and incredibly fun, and funny, to do. 

if you want to read the whole interview for yourself, you can do so here!

[chronicdisasterwrites]

death is pretty but his eyes are prettier

pairing: gojo satoru x reader (gojo’s past arc)

genre + warnings: - blood, injuries, mentions of death, passing out and intestines spilling out of the body (it's a bit gory but nothing crazy), swearing, reader is shorter than satoru but other than that it's gender-neutral (i'm pretty sure), shoko smoking, protective satoru and suguru.

a bit angsty but definitely FLUFF !!

word count: 3,191 (yikes lmao)

authors note: okaaay, so i was inspired by taylor swift saying "you drew stars around my scars", and also i love slow burns and two idiots silently but obviously pining for each other; SO satoru and reader aren't dating here yet. but they very much do like each other.

also apologies in advance if i messed up any location descriptions :')

enjoy this chaos lol <3

I’m an idiot. 

The curse was dead. The special grade curse you were assigned to kill was dead and you were almost dead. 

As the dissipating remains of the curse mixed with the wind and faded away, you heaved as the blood from the gash across your stomach soaked your dark blue uniform and colored it an even darker shade. Taking a few steps towards the nearest wall, you lean against it, legs buckling and gasping for breath. The light-headedness was growing exponentially and you had to force your eyes to stay open and your legs to stay upright. Blinking rapidly and trying to regain focus, you press one hand to the gaping wound on your abdomen. Red bleeds through your fingers and you feel like you might just pass out. Or die. Or both. 

Feeling liquid drip down your chin, you lift your other hand to the right side of your cheek to assess the source of what you assumed had to be blood. Sure enough, your previously bloodless hand was now stained with sticky crimson. Slowly moving your finger on your cheek to figure out where the blood was coming from you felt a sharp pain when your hand made contact with what seemed to be a pretty large cut. 

Shit. That’s gonna leave a scar.

Your scythe was broken so you had no weapons to worry about carrying back to Jujutsu High. Sluggishly taking your phone out of your uniform pocket you pray to every force you know to let your phone be okay. The black cracked screen stares back at you and the reflection of your worn out, disappointed, and bloodied face is all you see.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me. 

Now the question is whether to go to a hospital and get questioned by non-sorcerers about the horrendous wounds covering your entire body or, to go to Shoko and get patched up and hopefully not get asked too many questions and look like an absolute idiot. 

Shoko will ask questions and she’ll obviously be concerned. If Shoko knows, Satoru and Suguru are bound to find out and they won’t be happy with the higher-ups about this… misjudgment.

So, the hospital sounds better. But the nearest hospital is further from my current location than jujutsu high. 

Your breathing is getting shallower and your head feels so light you feel like it’ll just fall off. Closing your eyes and taking the deepest breath you could take without feeling like your stomach will tear open from the searing pain, you decide.

Fuck it. Shoko it is.

Pushing yourself off the wall with one hand still clutched to your bleeding stomach you start moving towards Jujutsu High. You control your breathing and use every last bit of cursed energy you have left to staunch the bleeding and somewhat ease your pain. With that, you urge your legs to move as fast as physically possible without breaking down.

---

You don’t know how you made it without bleeding out in the middle of the road, but the gates of Jujutsu High have never looked prettier. But, the sight of the stairs was enough to make bile rise to your throat. Swallowing it down and heaving some more, you make your way up the neverending steps of your inevitable doom.

Upon reaching the final step, your legs give out and you fall, wounded cheek first onto the stoned pavement. The pain was like nothing you’ve ever felt before; shooting upwards to your neurons and all the way down your body, right to the tips of your fingers and toes. 

It feels so nice to lie down. No no, get the hell up and go to Shoko. Or all this damn walking would’ve been for absolutely nothing.

Hours was it? Or minutes? You’re not sure but you managed to get back up. After first turning from your side to your back and then bending one leg and then using one hand to help your body up and then finally sitting up. Then at a snail’s pace, managing to stand up on your two feet you start moving towards the morgue, where Shoko spends most of her time anyways. That was your best bet. And if she wasn’t there, well then death seemed like the next best option. 

Slugging your way to the morgue, one hand still clutched to your stomach, you aggressively slap your free hand on the doorknob and turn it with your full body weight on the door. The door swings open and unable to keep your balance, you fall again, right cheek hitting the cold floor for the second time that day. 

All you remember hearing before your eyes finally shut is the sound of a chair screeching on the floor followed by the sound of rapid footsteps and a string of unintelligible words you assumed belonged to Shoko.

---

Darkness. More darkness. Muted voices. Yelling. Some more darkness. Pain.

When you finally open your eyes, everything is a blur. You blink a few times and look around until your eyes find something to focus on. The white walls, the green curtains, and the smell of antiseptic chemicals all lead you to believe you are in the infirmary. Flexing your hands one, two, three times before slowly lifting your right hand up to gently caress your right cheek, you feel the soft cloth of a bandage taped to your skin. Bringing the same hand down to lay it flat upon the blanket covering your abdomen, you apply the slightest bit of pressure down until you feel a slight prick of pain. Lifting the blanket up you tilt your head down to check the situation. You’re wearing a flowy hospital gown and your stomach looks a bit bulky. Feeling around the wound site you realize there’s a bandage there too. Laying your hand back down by your side, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering how you were even alive.

The creaking of the door opening breaks you from your stupor. 

“That was fast. Thought you’d be out for longer,” comes the smooth voice, the smell of cigarettes and that familiar sandalwood sweet perfume you know only belongs to Shoko.

Turning your head to the side you watch her sit down on the chair next to you fiddling with an unlit cigarette and crossing her legs. Her bangs almost cover her left eye and you notice how tired she looks. She sighs and looks at you with a lazy smile, fingers still twirling the cigarette with ease, she asks, “How you feeling?”

You shift and push yourself up to lean your back against the headrest of the bed. With a loud exhale you look back at her with a half-assed smile, “I’m great actually. Good job, doc.” You give her a thumbs up and hope it’ll be enough to squash any more questions she might have.

With her smile still on her face, she looks down at the cigarette and hums, “You know, Gojo was about to unleash hell on the higher-ups for giving you that mission.”

Your smile is immediately replaced with a frown and you feel unbelievably small upon hearing this. With a scowl you ask, “I mean, the mission was a success, wasn’t it?" You shrug, "And I’m fine too so win-win.”

Finally, her smile fades as she stares straight at you; and you think this is the most serious you have ever seen Shoko look, “You could’ve died. That doesn’t seem like “fine” to me. For once I actually agree with Gojo. It wasn’t right of them to assign you on that mission, especially without warning.”

“I’m feeling unbelievably underestimated right now, Shoko,” your voice is small as you fiddle with the seams of the blanket covering the lower half of your body.

Shoko sighs and shakes her head, short hair swishing as she leans forward with her arms on her legs, “I’m not doubting your abilities. No one is doubting your skills. But your wounds were really bad, you know that as well as I do.”

It’s quiet for a bit before you speak again. You look at her downturned head as you reach out your hand to hold hers. Your voice is demure.

“I know. I’m sorry for worrying you, Shoko. But I promise I’m fine. And that’s all thanks to you.” You smile at her as she lifts her head enough to lock her eyes with yours. A smile she doesn’t return but her hand holds yours back and you know she believes you now.

“Yeah well try not to pass out with your intestines all over the floor next time, thanks.”

You laugh. “I promise. I hope you’re joking about the intestines though.”

Shoko huffs a short laugh and lets go of your hand. Bringing the cigarette to her mouth as she stands up she says, “Your cursed energy is the reason that’s a joke. It’s amazing you held out for that long. But don’t get too used to that luck.”

Bringing your hand back to your lap, you watch as she makes her way out and shuts the door. 

Immediately after leaving she pokes her head in again and says one thing before leaving again without waiting for your reply, “Please talk to Gojo and Geto. Go now actually.” 

You sigh and bring down one foot then the other. The light-headedness returns once you stand up but it’s manageable, so you look around for a change of clothes when you find a new uniform folded neatly on the side table next to your bed.

Changing into the new uniform, you make your way out to look for either Satoru or Suguru or if you’re lucky (more so unlucky) both of them.

---

Jujutsu High really is beautiful this time of the season. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom and the campus looks downright ethereal. You think while walking the halls how this place would feel if it were just an ordinary high school and not a place teaching kids how to wield weapons and slay curses. The classrooms would be filled with boisterous students and teachers talking in the courtyard. Canteens with flirting couples and students playing football outside. The gymnasium would hold basketball games with students wearing the school jersey and cheering for the school team. It would be different. It wouldn’t be Jujutsu High, you think.

“Well well, look who’s up and walking already,” the loud, smug voice you know only belongs to one white-haired, blue-eyed boy.

Stopping in your tracks you turn around and stand face to face with Satoru. You give him a sheepish smile and with the sweetest voice you can muster you say, “Hey there Satoru! I was just looking for you!”

Satoru scoffs and walks closer to you. 

"Drop the crap."

Oh shit.

Once close enough to touch you he waits for a few beats staring at your face, eyes locked with yours as he occasionally looks at the bandage on your cheek. He breathes your name.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he seethes.

You groan, exasperated but expecting this reaction. 

“I’m okay, Satoru. I don’t get why this is such a big deal honestly.”

You can see his eyes widen behind his sunglasses with pure rage as he scoffs yet again. His voice gets louder and his arms flail around trying to prove his point, 

“Oh, you don’t get why this is a big deal? Well for starters, you could have died. You’re a semi-first grade, why the hell would you even accept a job to kill a special grade curse?” 

“Okay, I didn’t know it was a special grade. And I killed it, didn’t I? Have some faith in me,” your tone matches his and you glower as you cross your hands across your chest.

He starts pacing back and forth, facepalming himself to oblivion as he goes on a rant,

“Oh my- that’s not the point! It’s not about having faith. You were all messed up and half dead and you could’ve been fully dead and we were almost about to kill those stupid old geezers but then Shoko stopped us and I swear if she didn’t we would’ve actually gone through with it. I mean seriously what the hell-“

You stomp forward mid-rant and grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to stop. Your voice is soft but steady like you’re comforting a child in distress.

“Satoru calm down. I’m okay. The curse is dead. It’s fine. Now please breathe.”

He stares at you through his sunglasses. His chest is heaving and fists are clenched by his sides, not trying to move at all even though he could easily shove you away and continue pacing and ranting.

He dips his head down and exhales deeply, shoulders slanted downwards and breathing slowing down. He moves forward as his arms encircle your body and his head rests on top of yours. Your nose is squished against his chest and you can smell his scent; a mix of sweets, laundry detergent, and his signature scent; the smell of dewdrops and what you assume would probably be some expensive brand of perfume. You relax against him as you breathe him in and your arms move to hug him back. Shifting your head to rest your cheek on his chest you hear his heart beat steadily. You close your eyes and get lost in the feeling of Satoru. 

Neither of you say anything, but say everything at the same time. All his thoughts poured into that one hug, and you silently hear them all as you hug him a bit tighter.

You can feel him gulp as his Adam's apple moves against your forehead. His voice is small and honest as he says, “I would kill them all. If you didn’t wake up, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill them all.”

You know he would, so it’s not really a confession. But it feels like a confession. Satoru would turn the world upside down for the people he loves. You know that too well. 

“I know,” your voice is quiet. You feel so safe in Satoru’s arms. You think it’s so embarrassing how safe you feel whenever you’re with him. You feel like a baby; guard down and vulnerable. You’re sure Satoru feels the same way. You’ve never once seen him keep his Infinity on when he’s with you. 

He hugs you tighter and you can feel his heart rate quicken. He takes a deep breath and exhales as he lets you go and looks at you. You tilt your head up and try to find those cerulean blues hidden behind the shade of his sunglasses. Lifting your hand up to push his glasses up to his head you finally look right into the swirling blues of his eyes. They’re like the ocean. Calm, but with an unmistakable power surging within them. Like the energy you feel in the water right before a wave is formed, the blues in his eyes seem to pulse and flow with power. But they’re also still and serene, and filled with so much emotion. His eyes hold so much more than just power. 

His hand comes up to your bandaged cheek and he slowly takes off one side of the tape and then another until the bandage flaps open. You suddenly feel smaller and even more vulnerable. You haven’t even seen your face with the scar yet (you’re positive there’s a scar). His eyes zone in on the cut as he traces the raised flesh lining the center of your cheek. As his finger runs down the scar, you envision just how large the cut really is; about 3 inches vertical. It didn’t hurt anymore. Shoko really is a fantastic sorcerer, you think. Not moving your eyes from Satoru’s even once, you see the whirlpool of emotions swirl around in those crystal blues. Anger, sadness, worry, relief, adoration, hope.

His jaw clenches as he furrows his brows ever so slightly, fingers moving across your scar with featherlight pressure. Moving his gaze to your eyes, he rests his entire palm against your wounded cheek. Adjusting his hand to hold the side of your face perfectly like two pieces of the same puzzle, his thumb lays on the scar with a gentleness you didn’t know Satoru had. 

It’s so quiet, you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. The occasional breeze and the mellow chirping of birds bring you back to the world, otherwise, you’re positive you’d forget all about the outside world and be content standing in the middle of the hall in Jujutsu High wrapped in Gojo Satoru’s arms. 

You and Satoru were friends. Of course, you loved him, but that love is no different from the love you have for Shoko and Suguru. They’re your home. You’re a family. You know they love you too. 

But right now, it feels different than all the other times Satoru has held you. Held your hand, held your face, hugged you, clumsily threw his lanky arms over your shoulders, ran his fingers through your hair, wiped the blood off your face, flicked you on the forehead, patted you on the head, messed up your hair, rested his head on top of yours. This particular instance feels different. More intimate, perhaps. 

Maybe because you really could’ve died. Your life was hanging by a thread and you don’t seem to understand that. You were so prepared to die, that such a close brush with death’s scythe didn’t affect you in the slightest. This job comes with a guarantee of death. Even though that is life in general; being a jujutsu sorcerer means your days are already numbered. Anytime you embark on a mission, your chances of dying are much higher than your chances of survival. So you always went out on the field with the thought of dying. Knowing you could die and leave everything and everyone behind. But this was the first time you felt you were one step through death’s door. 

You can feel Satoru’s breath on your face, and you think he might kiss you. You keep one hand on his back as you lift the other to hold his wrist near your jaw. As he leans forward you close your eyes bracing for the kiss to reach your lips. But it doesn’t reach the place you were expecting. Instead, the lightest kiss touches your forehead, almost chaste; as he lingers there for a moment and then moves back. 

By now, your heart is racing and you think you’re dreaming. Only when his hands leave you, do you open your eyes and realize this isn’t a dream. 

He exhales as he stands straight, with both hands by his side. Bringing his sunglasses back down, perched on the bridge of his nose, he gives you a small smile, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You try to mask your stunned expression with a smile and nod. 

As he turns to leave he says, “Suguru’s at the gymnasium, probably.”

You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “Alright.”

He walks away and you go in the other direction.

part 2

[precious-little-bhaalbabe]

BG3 Companion Actors Playthroughs Compilation Post

Wanted to put all these in a convenient place for people to find, since I’m having a great time watching all of these.

Devora Wilde - Lae’zel of Creche K’liir ⚔️

Playing: Dev’zel of Crèche Lon’don (Githyanki Fighter Bard)

Stream Partners: Grace (Tech Help/Combat Guide/Minimap Reader)

• YouTube • Twitch • Playlist •

Neil Newbon - Astarion Ancunín 🩸

Playing: Bow’ee (Half-Elf Druid)

Stream Partners: Tom de Ville (Asra Tauriel - Tiefling Paladin), Assorted Guests

• YouTube • Twitch • Playlist •

Samantha Béart - Karlach Cliffgate ❤️‍🔥

Playing: Karlach Origin Run

• YouTube • Twitch • Playlist •

Jennifer English - Shadowheart 🖤

Playing: Jennevere (Elf Sorcerer)

Stream Partners: Aliona Baranova (Girlfriend, Corinna the Squirrel, Ver Rismol - Gnome Bard)

• YouTube • Twitch • Playlist •

Theo Solomon - Wyll Ravenguard, Blade of Frontiers 🗡

Playing: Theodore (Human Monk)

• YouTube • Twitch •

EDIT! Thanks to the lovely people in the replies and reblogs, let’s expand the post! (Yes they’re not all companions but shhh it’s the cast it counts)

Amelia Tyler - The Narrator 📜

Playing: Violet Alabaster (Half-Elf Ranger Dark Urge)

Stream Partners: Jay Britton (Partner, Lucius Alabaster - Human Rogue)

• YouTube • Twitch • Playlist •

Tracy Wiles - Jaheira the High Harper 🌳

*Recording of the first stream was lost

Playing: Janya (Human Bard)

• YouTube • Twitch •

Tamaryn Payne - Mizora 😈

*VODs of previous sessions not available

Playing: Tamaryn (Half-Elf Druid)

• Twitch •

[simplygojo]

What Was I Made For?

Authors Note: Soooo I am not sure where your request went in my inbox...but this one is for you @maryhyun254!!

I lovedddd this request. Thank you so much for submitting my friend!! I actually rewrote it a few times, I wasn’t sure what approach to take with it, so I hope it is up to your standards!! I am always open to feedback so let me know! Have a superb day/night ;)

P.s. I did have to play “What Was I Made For” twice while reading the fic, so maybe put the song on repeat while reading too (for the vibes).

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Word Count : 2.1k

Warnings : Just some existential thoughts and some intimacy…

The silence of the night felt suffocating, blanketing the Jujutsu High grounds in an eerie stillness that you could never quite get used to. No matter how many nights you spent here, the emptiness always pressed in on you, threatening to crush the air from your lungs. You found yourself wandering again, your thoughts heavy, your steps aimless.

You didn’t know why you felt this way—so out of place, so lost. Lately, it seemed as though nothing made sense. Every mission blurred together, each day folding into the next until all you had left was this hollow feeling in your chest. You couldn’t shake it, couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but it clung to you like a shadow.

You reached the courtyard, your feet stopping of their own accord. The cool breeze bit at your skin, but you welcomed the discomfort—it reminded you that you were still here, still alive. But for what?

What was I made for?

The thought had been gnawing at you for days, echoing in your mind like a haunting song. You had been taught that as a sorcerer, you had a purpose. To protect, to fight, to uphold balance. But somewhere along the way, you had forgotten why any of it mattered.

You slumped down onto a stone bench, elbows resting on your knees as you stared at the ground. You didn’t even notice the familiar presence approaching until you felt his gaze on you.

“You’re gonna catch a cold sitting out here like that.”

Gojo’s voice was light, teasing as always, but you could hear the undercurrent of something deeper. He wasn’t here by coincidence.

You didn’t bother looking up, your voice low, defeated. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” His tone softened, and suddenly he was there beside you, sitting so close that his arm brushed yours. For a man who could always command a room, Gojo had a strange ability to slip into these moments as if he belonged there, no questions asked.

You shifted uncomfortably, still not meeting his gaze. “Why are you here?”

Gojo tilted his head, watching you carefully. “You’ve been distant lately. Something’s up.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Distant? No. I’ve just been… trying to figure out why I’m even here.”

There it was. The truth. The question that had been eating away at you for days, weeks, maybe longer. You weren’t like him—like Gojo, the strongest sorcerer. The one who always seemed so sure of himself, so certain of his purpose. You were just you, and lately, that didn’t seem to be enough.

Gojo didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned back slightly, gazing up at the night sky as if contemplating your words. You could feel the weight of his silence, pressing against you, urging you to continue.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know what I’m fighting for anymore. I feel… empty.”

Gojo shifted beside you, turning his head to look at you fully. “You think I don’t feel that way too?”

You blinked, finally glancing up at him. His eyes, though hidden behind those familiar dark sunglasses, seemed to burn with a quiet intensity. “What do you mean?”

He let out a soft sigh, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, mirroring your posture. “Being the strongest… it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, you know.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re Gojo Satoru. You don’t get to complain about being the strongest.”

Gojo chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “That’s where you’re wrong, y/n. You think being the strongest means I don’t feel lost? Like I don’t question why I was given this power? I ask myself every damn day.”

His words hung in the air between you, sinking into your skin, wrapping around your heart. You hadn’t expected that. Not from him. Not from the man who seemed invincible, untouchable.

“Then why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Why do you keep doing it?”

Gojo turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “Because there’s more to it than just being strong. It’s about what you do with it. Who you protect, who you fight for. That’s what keeps me going.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you in ways you weren’t prepared for. Protecting. Fighting for someone. It sounded so simple when he said it, but for you, it felt unreachable, like a distant dream you could never quite touch.

“But I don’t know what I’m made for,” you confessed, your voice breaking. “I don’t feel like I belong here. I’m not like you. I’m not strong enough.”

Gojo’s gaze softened, his fingers gently brushing against the back of your hand. The contact was brief, almost fleeting, but it sent a shiver through you. “You don’t need to be like me. You don’t have to be the strongest to matter.”

You turned to look at him, your eyes searching his for any hint of deception, but all you found was sincerity. It was rare to see Gojo like this—unguarded, open. Vulnerable, even. It made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t explain.

“But what if I can’t do it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if I’m not enough?”

Gojo’s hand slipped fully into yours then, his fingers curling around yours, grounding you in the moment. “You are enough, y/n. You’re here. That’s enough.”

The simplicity of his words made your heart clench, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the weight of everything finally catching up to you, or if it was just Gojo—the way he always seemed to know what you needed to hear, even when you didn’t know yourself.

You swallowed thickly, your gaze dropping to where your hands were intertwined. “I don’t know how to feel right now.”

Gojo’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, a gentle reassurance. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Or tomorrow. Just… let yourself feel. Whatever it is.”

The tears came then, hot and unrelenting, and you hated how vulnerable you felt in front of him. But Gojo didn’t pull away, but instead, he held you tighter, his hand warm against yours, grounding you in the quiet comfort of his presence. The tears fell freely now, and you couldn’t stop them, even if you wanted to. All the doubts, the fears, and the weight of your own self-worth came crashing down, and for once, you let it happen. You let yourself break.

Gojo didn’t say anything, didn’t offer platitudes or try to fix you. He just sat there, silent and steady, his hand never leaving yours. It was enough. His presence was enough.

After what felt like an eternity, your sobs finally subsided, leaving you feeling lighter, though raw and exposed. You wiped at your eyes with your free hand, sniffling as you tried to collect yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” Gojo interrupted softly, his voice unusually gentle. “You’re allowed to feel this way. You’re allowed to break sometimes.”

You glanced up at him, his face closer than you realized, his bright eyes locked onto yours, no longer hidden behind his sunglasses. The way he looked at you—so open, so real—made your breath catch in your throat.

Before you could stop yourself, you asked, “Do you ever feel like you weren’t made for this? Like… maybe you weren’t meant to be a sorcerer?”

Gojo let out a soft sigh, his gaze drifting to the night sky for a moment before returning to you. “Every day. There’s always this pressure to live up to something, to be someone… but no one ever tells you what happens when you don’t know what that ‘something’ is.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. Gojo—the strongest sorcerer alive, the one everyone looked up to, relied on—felt that way too? It was almost too much to believe. But as he spoke, there was no trace of his usual teasing tone, no cocky smirk. It was just him, raw and honest in a way you rarely saw.

You leaned in a little, your forehead almost brushing his shoulder as you stared at the ground. “Then why do we keep going?”

Gojo’s hand tightened around yours, and when he spoke, his voice was low, serious. “Because none of us were made for anything, y/n. It’s the path we make that matters. We choose who we become, what we fight for. The rest… it’s just noise.”

His words seemed to reverberate in the stillness, sinking into your heart and filling the empty spaces. You swallowed hard, his gaze now fixed solely on you. The vulnerability in his voice, the quiet strength behind his words—it was all so different from the Gojo you thought you knew.

Without thinking, you shifted closer to him, closing the small gap between you. You could feel the warmth of his body, his breath on your skin. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, then back to his eyes. The air between you was charged with something you couldn’t name, something that made your heart race.

“Gojo…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

He didn’t wait for you to finish. In one smooth, deliberate movement, his hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently along your cheek. His touch was soft, reassuring, but there was an urgency to the way his eyes searched yours, as if he were asking for permission. And then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss.

The world around you seemed to fall away in that instant, leaving only the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his touch, the way his hand cradled your face like you were something precious, something worth holding onto. The kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t about desire or passion. It was about understanding—an answer to all the doubts and fears you had shared tonight.

You kissed him back, your free hand instinctively reaching up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. He responded with a soft sigh against your lips, his other hand sliding to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss just slightly. It wasn’t hurried or frantic, but there was an undeniable intensity to the way he kissed you, like he was trying to tell you something without words.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested gently against yours, his breath warm against your skin. You stayed like that for a moment, both of you catching your breath, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

His voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. And you don’t have to do it alone.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes, something soft and unguarded, that made your chest tighten. You had never seen him like this before—so real, so human.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession.

Gojo’s hand moved from your face to your shoulder, squeezing gently. “Me too,” he said softly. “But being scared doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re alive. And you’re not alone in this.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from sadness. They were from relief—from the quiet comfort of knowing that even in your uncertainty, even in your fear, Gojo was there with you. That maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to have all the answers.

“You’re not alone,” he repeated, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

And for the first time in a long while, you believed him.

Gojo’s lips found yours again, and this time the kiss was deeper, more certain. It was a promise, a reassurance that whatever came next, you wouldn’t have to face it alone. You kissed him back with everything you had, pouring all of your doubts, your fears, and your hope into it.

When he pulled away again, his eyes locked onto yours, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “Step by step.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch as the warmth of the night wrapped around the two of you. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the question that had been haunting you—what was I made for?—didn’t seem so overwhelming.

Because maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t about being made for something.

Maybe it was about choosing your own path. Maybe it always has been...

---

Author's Note II: THIS IS VERY POORLY EDITED, PLEASE FORGIVE ME ILY THANKS FOR READING

[m-ilkiee]

E-boys Ruined my Life: Toxic! Megumi Fushiguro x Fem Reader

“Coke on his nose, blade on my thigh, man I think this guy’s trying to plan my demise.”

Pairing: toxic! Megumi Fushiguro x female reader

series summary: You had a crush on Megumi for so long, you hoped you would meet him again. But now, as you stand before him, you realize that Fushiguro Megumi is not the same kid as he was at fifteen- he was taller, broader and far more handsome than ever.

And a whole lot more meaner to you.

(Based off a fic I wrote in 2021 for Megumi on my older writing blog. Honestly this theme is best viewed in dark mode but hey, what do I know 🤷🏽‍♀️)

[series warning] college/non-sorcerer AU, Dark content, nfsw, smut, 18+, aged up Megumi, fem!bodied reader, toxicity - toxic megumi, childhood crush to "lovers", situationships, heavy angst with "happy ending", smut, coercion, dubcon, noncon, mean dom! Megumi, sub!reader, misogyny, slut-shaming, depraved Megumi, mutual pining (is it really? is it??), manipulation, alcohol and drug use, gaslighting, drugging, implied baby trapping, semi-accurate potrayals of fraternities, classism

[main masterlist] [taglist link] [spotify playlist]

Chapter 1: Love at First Sight

synopsis: Being friends with the older tour guide as a first year has a lot of perks; new friends, a popularity boost and crossing paths constantly with your high school crush after many years apart, Megumi Fushiguro

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Chapter 2: Party Hard, F*ck Harder

synopsis: Disappointed that Megumi hates you, you decide to attend the freshman party to get over him. And end up needing his help after getting drugged… in more ways than one.

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Chapter 3: Pattern Recognition

Synopsis: Nobara notices two things; One, you’re in love with Megumi and Two, Megumi’s budding obssession with your affection.

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Chapter 4: I Don’t Do Drugs

Synopsis: Megumi realizes you would do anything for him, and decides to utilize this information to his advantage, much to Yuuji’s disappointment.

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Chapter 5: Sugar Rush

Synopsis: it’s evident you can’t live without Megumi, and so you cave in to his demands against all advice to stay away from him

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Chapter 6: S♡x Addict

Synopsis: Your grades begin to suffer due to Megumi’s insatiable urges and his inability to keep his hands to himself.

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Chapter 7: Whirlwind Situationship

Synopsis: Eventually, Megumi grows tired of you and breaks off everything, devastating you completely.

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Chapter 8: Revelation

Synopsis: You’re finally getting your life back together and doing well in school again. Meanwhile, Megumi realizes he can’t function without you.

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Chapter 9: Relapse

Synopsis: You return his sweater to get closure  But Megumi himself isn’t ready to let his own feelings for you, as twisted as they are, go

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Chapter 10: I’m not the Right one

Synopsis: Left alone to spend your fifth marriage anniversary for another year, you finally gain the courage to get divorce papers. Megumi, however, reminds you that he owns you. Permanently.

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author's note: i missed writing for fushiguro! please comments, reblogs, likes and asks are welcomed. if you are a minor, please refrain from interacting with this fic.

taglist (please turn on your mentions in 'settings' before filling the form.): @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @getonite @reiners-milkbiddies @gh0stgirl333 @raven-nevra @megumisdivinedogs @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @Lovelyartistz @lik0

[satorkive]

REWIND: JUJUTSU TECH—2006

“gojo-sensei, i’m home.”

megumi who just got home from school called out for his teacher. his training with nobara and itadori ended a little bit late.

he found gojo sleeping in the couch with a laptop on. he stared at his teacher’s face with dry tears streaked on his cheeks. megumi who became curious because gojo didn’t let his vulnerability out and he’s probably crying because of something he had watched.

there were various tapes scattered around the table and the laptop had the pause button. he quietly placed himself in front of the laptop and pressed the play button.

in the beginning there was darkness, but a girl their age or probably older than them sat in front of the camera.

she looked pretty. megumi thought in awe. although there was a dull look in your eyes and your skin looked like blood had been drained out of you, you looked effortlessly stunning.

“satoru, if you ever watched this tape, i’m already dead.”

megumi slowly blinked at your blunt words. oh.

you let out a humorless laugh. “i’m sorry for my… vulgar words, satoru. i…” you looked down as you played with your fingers on your lap.

“y’know how i have this weird, but strong sense of intuition that always happened when i predict? i have that feeling—the exception is, i can feel it in my soul that i would already die. in this mission. that the higher ups assigned to me.”

the spiky-haired boy observed how you took a deep breath as if you were resisting the urge to burst out.

“i’m sad because i won’t be there to witness you slaughtering them.” you gave the camera a sweet smile.

your smile dropped and you looked away from the camcorder. the grainy effect made you look more… vintage. just a memory from the past. you were once someone’s person and now you were just someone’s memory…

“i’m sorry if i wouldn’t be able to fulfill my promise to you—to never leave you behind. i’m sorry if i wouldn’t be there to wipe your tears when you cry. i’m sorry if i wouldn’t be able to lend my shoulders for you to cry on. i…” your voice cracked and tears started to fall like crystals on your cheeks.

megumi could feel the pain she’s feeling and his lips turned into frown.

“i’m sorry if i was giving up, not bothering to fight for my life because to be honest, satoru, i ask myself at night with the question: who am i doing this for?”

when the teenage boy looked at you, he felt like you were seeing him. like you were sitting in front of him, asking a simple question.

“is it for the civilians so they won’t have to endure anymore? is it for the children so they won’t have to go to war anymore? is it for the future so they would be able to live a peaceful life? or…”

“is it for the selfish elders who send children to fight for the sins they have committed?”

oh.

“why do the children have to pay for their forefathers’ sins?”

a sob broke you out and megumi could only watch in pain as you went hysterical.

it was saddening to see you—a person who clearly the world doesn’t deserve—need to sacrifice your life for the betterment of the world.

that’s how a jujutsu sorcerer works, unfortunately. you clearly don’t belong in this world. in this cruel, awful world.

“whoever manages to find this tape, i hope you will take care of my friends—satoru, suguru, and shoko. i hope you will give them the patience to grieve and to mourn. i hope you will be able to give them the care and support they deserved. i hope you will be able to see them for who they are, and not for what they are. i hope you will be able to see hope during the darkest times. and i hope you will be able to feel grateful even if your life is just a borrowed time.” you tilted your head and delicately smiled.

you let out a last giggle. “this is [last name][name], signing off. goodbye.” you pulled the camera closer to your face and gave a smooch.

the laptop went black and megumi could only blankly stare at the wall.

what a world they live in.

such a life doomed from the start and they could only wait as death came for their friend.

what a… life.

you didn’t know then, your death is the beginning of all tragedies.

[garoujo]

YOU HAVE (1) NEW REQUEST FROM @FUSHIGURO TOJI…

WANNA PLAY SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN?

➤ seven minutes in heaven series masterlist.

NEW MESSAGE @WARNINGS : f!reader, college!au, campus security!toji + student!reader, frat party / closet scenes, age gap (toji is in his 30’s + reader is 20’s), dirty talk, seven minutes in heaven scenarios that are definitely longer than seven minutes, alcohol mentioned + consumed, reader is tipsy-ish, minimal prep, hint at plan b at the end, reader wears a skirt.

(1) ATTACHMENT @WC : 5k.

NEW MESSAGE FROM EMMIE @GAROUJO : its been a while my friends! but i am finally here with the next instalment of my series !!! after so long !!! i’ve been really looking forward to this one too ,, this is my first real toji thing! so i hope u guys still enjoy <3

you feel your throat burn as you toss your head back to swallow the sweet liquid, fingers clasping tightly around the miniature shot glass in your hand. you swallow— eyes squeezing closed, but you manage it when it’s followed by a pat on your back and a “oh? good job.” before it fades into the distance.

you don’t know how many you’ve taken by now, you’re beginning to feel the bass settle under your skin and there’s a heat that licks at the base of your spine. your vision is blurrier than you’re used to but you still manage to react, albeit slowly when you feel someone push a red cup into your chest.

“here, drink this. stop taking them from him.” megumi pipes up from the side of you with an expression that you’d assume was a frown if you could see clearly, itadori’s not too far behind and the sight of them both makes you soften slightly.

“he’s convincing, you know.” you try to argue, words slurring slightly. it was gojo satoru after all, he’d been nice enough to invite you all to his frat party — the least you could do is accept a few shots from the snowy haired guy when he passes them out with his friend. maybe not this much though.

but you shrug before taking the plastic cup from megumi’s hands anyway, and you’ve never been so grateful for a taste of water until it’s laving along your taste buds. in all honesty, you feel better already — a little more aware of your surroundings, of how loud the music is and now.. the unimpressed face your friend is sending you.

“no, he’s just annoying. he’ll go away if you ignore him.” he crosses his arms over his chest as he watches you, making sure you manage to finish the remaining liquid in the cup before he’s urging you to give him it back.

“somehow i don’t believe that.” you manage, clarity slowly getting its grip on you— albeit it only slightly as you sway with your next inhale. but megumi reaches to steady you with a sigh before he speaks again,

“stay here. i’ll get more.”

by the time you nod at his words, humming slightly— hes already gone, pushed between the sweaty student bodies as your fingers clasp tightly around the kitchen counter to keep yourself steady.

there’s a dizzy spin to the room, warm air rolling over your shoulders everytime you sway or turn — pushed slightly as someone passes before you’re pulled against someone entirely.

“there you are~” gojo’s smooth voice sounds as he tucks you underneath his arm, chuckling when you grab at his shirt before sending him a lidded, annoyed look. geto’s there too, hands shoved into his pockets as he looks over you— standing across from you both as gojo keeps you close to him.

“were you waiting f’ me? wanna join our little game, hm? you can’t reject me and hurt my feelings, come on~” the snowy haired sorcerer drawls, sickly sweet as he squeezes his bicep around your shoulders — jostling you slightly as his bestfriend sends you an apologetic look.

“i’m waiting on someone.” you grit through your teeth, rolling your eyes when it earns you a dramatic gasp from gojo before he leans down to look at you. he lets his dark rimmed glasses deliberately tilt down slightly so you can see the narrowed look he’s sending you, one that tells you he’s not quite convinced.

“oh? don’t worry, sweet girl. i’m already here, see~ you’re breaking my heart here.” the start of his sentence starts off a whisper, almost drowned out by the heavy music before he grows louder— free hand on his chest and earning you both a few looks from other party goers that makes you feel suddenly self conscious.

he’s insufferably convincing.

“omg shutup! fine, but no more shots, gojo!” you finally give in and you’re sure you see geto breathe a sympathetic sounding sigh your way before he turns to lead you both.

“mhm, i hear you. i knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

it’s almost too fast the way he whisks you through the rooms in the frat, all three of you ending up stuffed into the lounge area with a whole lot of other bodies, drunken students you’re sure he managed to rally with just a few dreamy looks from his crystalline gaze.

it’s like a production— the way gojo explains the rules to the room, ofcourse you’d played the game before, you’re a college student. but that doesn’t mean you actually wanted to play, you’re just hoping you don’t get chosen.

you watch the numbers dwindle with every spin of the bottle in the middle of the floor, all the hoots and hollers that followed the couple out into the hallway— ears pressed against the closet door to give these people something to gossip about the next day.

you thank the stars that you’ve been spared of the embarrassment so far, that is until the next round. you don’t know what it is, when you look up to see gojo already looking at you with a smirk on his features, just as the next contestant spins the bottle— the snowy haired guy was annoying, but the guy who’s up right now was worse.

you feel uneasy with every pass of the neck in your directions, like somethings different— a shift in the atmosphere as you fidget in your seat and you want to squeeze your eyes closed when you watch it slow. you bury yourself into your seat, hoping this is just another prank— you don’t even know the guy, he’s in one of your classes you’re sure of it, but he was gross.

your spiralling train of thought is interrupted abruptly with the next cheer from the room, urging you to peek open your eyes before you see gojo standing over you with a grin. “what’s this? looks like you’re up, you excited?” excited isn’t exactly the word you’d use for the bile you can feel turning in your stomach, so you shrug.

your partner approaches you just as the taller man manages to pull you to stand and you’re suddenly reminded of how much you’d drank earlier again. but his presence gives you a suddenly uneasy feeling when his eyes are already settled on your chest. you can basically smell the testosterone from him when he reaches out his hand; you don’t take it though.

“you’re not chickening out, right? you don’t have to be so disappointed it’s not me.” gojo goads quietly as he leans over you from behind, his hands resting on your shoulders before he’s leading you along the path you’ve already watched so many walk down before. you can feel the crowd of footsteps behind you, pumping fists and the lidded gaze of the random dude you’re about to be stuffed in the closet with for 7 minutes of hell.

you should’ve just waited on megumi with that water.

you take a slow inhale before you slap at gojo’s hands where they hold you, although they don’t budge. your fists clench when the guy infront of you takes another step in your direction and you sway to look at him, his palm already on the door knob and you wonder if you ran fast enough, you’d be able to outrun him.. maybe.. not.

“party’s over.”

the sound booms from the entry way to the frat just as the door to the closet barely opens and despite the way you almost jump out of your skin— you’ve never been so relieved to see the crowds around you thin suddenly. even the snowy haired ‘game master’ behind you only manages out an amused chuckle, before he’s trying to control the sudden panic.

you don’t realise how much gojo was supporting you until you almost drop as he lets go, but the suddenly tight grip of your closet partners hands on your hips sobers you even more when they grab at you. the sudden contact makes you shriek, earning you the attention from the looming figure in the doorway who’s suddenly making his way towards you both.

you push the unwarranted touch from your figure before he’s sliding his way to stand just infront of you, shielding you from the man that stops across from you both with a pissed off expression on his features. but you still can’t help but find yourself looking at him anyway.

the stretch of the tight fabric of his shirt across his chest is sinful, hugging along the thick cut muscle while the black sleeves cut across his biceps. his sweats hug at his waist, wrapped around his thighs and the floor creaks underneath the weight of him with every heavy step he takes towards you, emphasised by the combat boots he wears.

he doesn’t wear uniform, as if — fushiguro toji was campus security, even though he doesn’t look like the kind of guy who you’d expect to follow any sort of order.

“out.” toji grunts, dark gaze cutting through the asshole beside you as his flashlight presses into the middle of his chest, before he whistles sharply when he doesn’t move.

the silence between the three of you is deafening but that only seems to make the man mirroring you both smirk before he’s taking another step— pushing himself intimidatingly close to your once closet partner as he grits his teeth.

“you need an escort? i aint gentle.” that’s what finally gets the dude infront of you moving, clicking his tongue before he’s pushing his way past security— trying to atleast, he barely moves when he’s pushed against, almost taking the guy who tried it out as he makes his way past.

the disappointed man, i was just about to get some you hear as he leaves makes you roll your eyes before you go to follow suit. only stopped suddenly by the hard press of the palm that pushes into you to stop you from moving.

“woah, nuh ugh—not. you.” toji’s voice sounds lowly as he looks at you, and you suddenly feel hot underneath his gaze, still a little tipsy and like a baby deer trying to take its first step. although you cant say that’s entirely the alcohol, not when you can feel his sharp gaze cut through you as he steps infront of you once more.

he’s intoxicating— no, you’re not thinking straight.

“mr fushiguro?” you breathe despite the way your lungs tremble with the exhale, chest suddenly too tight with the way it almost presses against his own. you’re acutely aware of the sudden proximity and the haze in your mind, of just how little effort it would take to reach out and trace every single cut muscle underneath your palms — to feel the way they move underneath your touch.

but the sinful thought is drowned out the moment toji answers, low and ragged as he shoots you a crooked grin.

“i aint your teacher, sweetheart.” another shameless sweep of his eyes over your figure, taking their time along the push and pull of your breasts and hips and he’s never felt fucking better about not choosing to be some prick in a shirt and tie.

he’d have had you on every desk in his classroom right now.

“what’re you doing?” you cut off his thoughts as toji’s lips downturn slightly, more of a scowl on his features but you’re pretty sure that was the face he always wore around the school. it looks better tonight.

“my damn job.” he answers bluntly and you know he’s pretty good at it when you realise how much the hallway seems to have cleared compared to a few moments ago. although you’re sure he could probably find some students in a few hiding places around the frat if he really tried. but he seems preoccupied.

“uh.. i better leave too.” you try but you take note of the way toji doesn’t seem to move from your path, his eyes are still on you and if anything they only seem to narrow even more before he grins.

“hah? don’t let me ruin your little game, princess.” his voice sounds deeper now and you swear your legs almost buckle underneath you when you feel his hand leave you suddenly. but his reflexes are fast when he chooses to steady you against him this time instead.

you feel toji’s fingers press their way underneath your chin as he casts you a lustful glance, one that you think seems a little misplaced considering both of your positions. he tilts you up to meet his gaze and you can’t help yourself, your body moves on it’s own when you lean into the touch— it only seems to spur him on though.

it makes you shudder the way he looks over you, examining all of your features like he’s a hunter getting a last look at his pray before he pounces. you want to speak, to insist it’s probably about time you got home— but as soon as your lips part to speak, he beats you to it.

“or how about we play one of my own, instead?“

toji’s unhinged and moving you so easily, all sharp edges and rough lines and exceeding the kind of dominance he holds over everything else in his life. you feel like you���re a beat behind of what’s happening because suddenly the closet doors open, and the impact of the palm that comes down heavy on your ass a few moments later is enough to get you moving without a second thought.

“w-what’re you doing? i thought you were working.” you gasp, barely audible, like your morals are now finally deciding to pipe up just as the door closes and it’s just you two in the suffocatingly small space.

“think i give a shit? i ain’t getting paid for this. i’m off the clock.” the air between you both is shared— the closet is tiny, forcing you to almost press up against toji entirely just so you can stand straight, there’s a washing machine in the corner and a few cleaning supplies that you’re sure have never been used.

you feel something throb in your lower stomach when you feel his rough palms trace up your hips, squeezing at the skin before he’s forcing you to switch places with him— strong arms turning you so easy until you’re back is pressed tight against the closet door as he curls over you.

your lips part to speak but any barely formed words die on your tongue when it’s cut off by a heavy roll of his hips against yours, flipping your skirt and letting you feel the hard press of his clothed cock against your skin. your hands grab at his biceps to steady yourself, but it only seems to make your want burn hotter as you squeeze at the thick muscle, whimpering when he angles your hips upwards so he can feel the heat from your intimate skin.

“you’ll get in trouble.” you manage, although it comes out as more of a squeak than a plea,

“don’t act like i’m holdin’ you here, princess.” toji’s got a point as he grits his teeth, feeling the length of him throb against your clothed cunt as he grazes himself along the outline of your folds. you’re making no attempts to stop him despite the way you should, you could be kicked out of school— he’d lose his job, but when you feel the blunt head of his cock catch suddenly on your puffy clit, you don’t seem to care about anything else as you grab at him.

your legs twitch as you crumble beneath him, thankful for the strong grip he’s got on your hips as he pushes you up against the door behind you. you can barely think with the way he rolls into you, making your hips and ass clap against the cool wood— the sound echoing through the room and the hallway too most likely.

you try to meet toji’s thrusts with needy little ones of your own, pulling a low, long groan from the man standing over you before he’s sending you a dark look from underneath his hair.

“fuck—y’re real greedy for it now.” you can almost feel every detail of his cock as his fingers squeeze almost painfully into your hips, allowing him to take back control as he drags you along the length of him. his movements are messy and rough, feeling the thick shaft graze through the intimate space in your thighs as he ruts almost ruthlessly into the now damp fabric of your panties.

“lift your leg up.” toji groans, orders as he steps away to tap at your thigh and you’re so eager to obey despite the way your body’s screaming for you to run. you’re pretty sure he had a kid your age, heard a few rumours around campus but they all ended there— you were never too interested in the life of your campus security guard. until now anyway.

but you feel dazed, your movements driven by pure lust as you prop yourself up against the doorway, allowing the huge man infront of you to move you to his will as he slots himself back between your legs.

it’s filthy the way toji grabs at your thigh, squeezing at the skin before he’s hooking it around his hips — messily ripping at the fabric of your panties with a steady hiss. “this is in the way.” he grumbles to himself as he struggles with the thin fabric, opting to rip it entirely before he’s fishing his own cock out the constraints of his sweats.

he doesn’t take it out completely, only enough for you to be able to feel the weight of it as it smears pre-cum along the inside of your thighs, his hand on your skin tightening slightly. you finally feel his cock twitch against you — the first sting of sexual freedom makes you arch, yearning when you let your eyes sweep over the thick curve of him before he readjusts himself to line up.

you’re already a puddle of mewls and whines when you feel his shaft graze across your slick folds, pressing the weight of him between them as he grinds into you. “‘ts fuckin’ soaked already.” toji groans as he takes in the sight of you under him, your shoulders pressed back against the door as he pulls your hips up into him and rubs his cock into you.

you send him a doe-eyed look, one that’s still a little clouded from the shots and you’re basically begging for him to fuck you— thighs twitching when he grazes over your clit with a wet tacky sound. “you tryna suck me in already, impatient little brat.”

you’re not even prepped but you’ve never wanted someone more than you do at this moment, you’re hips twitch up into him and that’s all it takes for toji to finally part your folds and sink into your twitching cunt with a long, low growl.

the way he talks you through it is filthy, like it’ll help him fit even though he’s about to make it regardless — pressing and pushing you against the wood behind you like he’s trying to consume you entirely.

another deep, rough press of his hips and you can barely breathe from where toji’s got you pressed into his chest, spread out around him as he drives his movements with the weight of his body behind them.

his hands are relentless where they grab at your ass, pulling you apart and you can already feel the ache under his grip, sure to leave a mark as you bite on your lower lip with another weighted, heavy thrust into you. his large palms drag your hips down onto his cock as your body shakes — lips parting to moan as your fingers twist in the fabric of his black shirt.

you can’t think with the way the blunt head pushes past every nerve along your walls, pleasure heightened and throbbing to have him deeper — you think the adrenaline has you more sensitive than usual. toji picks up on that, on the way your thigh desperately tries to hug his hips to pull him closer despite the sting, until finally hes bottoming out and with a low grunt and a seedy, smug smirk as he looks over you.

you’re surprised he even gives you anytime to breathe as his hips rest tight against yours, feeling one of his rough hands trace along your chest before he’s tightening it around your jaw and urging you to look up at him. “atta girl. keep those eyes on me, princess.” he growls and the low sound makes your long lashes flutter and kiss along your cheeks before he nods.

the way toji drags his cock out of you is slow, wet after he’s given you a few moments to get used to the thick spread of him, the draw back of his hips feels like it lasts forever until only the blunt head remains.

you look up at him and that’s when his lips are on yours, just as the slap of his hips back into you almost takes all of the air from your lungs as he greedily drinks up your moans. the way he kisses is you is rough but his pace doesn’t let up, you can feel the shadow of stubble on his features— dragging along your skin as he fucks you, driving his hips into yours, against the closet door like an animal.

toji’s pelvis presses tight against your slick folds with every wet connection of his hips as he swirls them into you, the pace he’s set is relentless— you can barely keep up, only opting to dig your nails into the skin of his shoulders to keep yourself from melting entirely.

“shit—so goddamn tight, can barely move.” he grumbles against you before he pulls away from your lips and it feels like you can barely breathe with how deep he feels, pressed tight against the sensitive spots inside of you as your only supporting leg shakes with its attempt to keep you steady.

toji’s pace is quick and intense but it only seems to grow heavier, body jolting as he digs his cock up into your pussy and you’re glad he managed to clear most of the hallway earlier. although you’re convinced the sound of how well he’s fucking you is probably echoing through the whole frat anyway, you’re just hoping the music helps to atleast drown you out.

“f-fuck! please, keep going.” you gasp and fuck— does he love having a pretty, little young thing like you screaming on the end of his cock. it makes something smug burn in his abdomen as he lets his hands burn their way along your figure, pawing and palming at all the skin he can reach as you moan all pretty for your campus security.

toji’s hands squeeze at your hips once more before he’s angling you up again, forcing you up onto your tip toes as he pushes himself even deeper into you. “yeah? you never felt a real cock or somethin’ before, princess?” he’s pressing up against the swollen spots inside of you and all you can do is take everything he gives you, nodding so pliantly as you babble and gasp out his name between quick breathes.

“i’ll make sure you never want another one ‘cept mine.” he grunts again, lower this time and your eyes almost roll back as your head begins to spin with pleasure. you’ve never felt a man like this before, you weren’t inexperienced but nobody had ever filled you up like he had— his cock easing you to stretch around him like your body was moulded to it.

“don’t want another one, want more.. please!” you gasp and it’s insane the way it makes toji’s huge body shudder against you— pressing you even tighter against the door as he pushes his chest into yours.

“that’s more like it, keep that shit comin’” his jaw tightens as he feels your warm walls squeeze around him, like you’re trying to milk him as he splits you open— feeling the heavy weight of his balls clap against your ass as he pushes into you.

the air in the rooms feels thicker now, you feel too hot for your skin but you can’t get enough with the heat he seems to bury deep inside of you. every movement is needy and wild, making your pussy throb when he buries his face into the crook of your neck— biting down on the skin there as he groans into you.

you feel toji’s palm squeeze at your thigh once more and you’re sure it’ll bruise this time as he hikes it up higher, the new angle only fanning the flames of your orgasm as you feel it spark along your veins. he knows your close, he can feel it in the way your moans are coming as quick, puffed out gasps— your pussy squelching even louder around him with every heavy thrust, making a mess along your thighs and his skin. he’s digging the orgasm out of you as he pulls back to give you a dangerous sort of look.

“fuck—where you want it? i aint tryna have another kid, princess.” he grits despite the way the ringing in your ears almost drowns him out, he’s already thickening and throbbing inside of you— on the edge of the pleasure that he’s earned from an eager little thing like you.

“just inside, p-please.. don’t want you to pull out.” you can barely form your words before your orgasm hits you so fast and so good that it almost hurts as your toes curl, you swear you see white in the otherwise dark room. your fingers move to claw along toji’s biceps as you cream around his cock and the fucked little image of you, a pretty little student leaving a mess all over his cock almost defeats him as his fist slams into the wood behind you.

“greedy brat.” he hisses but he doesn’t stop despite the way you’re shaking beneath him, so drunk on pleasure that you can barely keep your eyes open and you’re gasping with every shockwave of bliss his thrusts send through you. his groans vibrate around the small room, echoing from somewhere deep inside of his chest as he throbs inside your soaked cunt, against the trembling plush feel of your walls around him.

toji’s pace stutters when his pelvis brushes against your puffy clit, just enough to have you squeezing tight around him. the milking compression of your walls making him curse before he groans sharp at the cream that pools around the base of his cock, catching on the dark hair along the base of him.

“real pain in the ass.” he grits out with the next unforgiving push of his hips before he cums, thick and heavy inside of you as he feels your nails drag lines across the broad expanse of his shoulders and back underneath his shirt. he’s slurring curses, low and ragged, as he pushes his load into your puffy cunt and you can barely breathe with how sensitive you feel, how full as he almost pins you to the door completely.

but toji continues to fuck into your sensitive pussy, until he’s breathing heavy and peeling himself away from you with a grumble.

“fuck sake.” he groans as he takes a step back, easing himself away from you as he rests your leg back onto the ground lightly. the silence is heavy as you both catch your breath, neither of you talking as he tucks himself back into his sweats and pulls up the hem of his shirt to wipe some off the sweat that’s gathered along his forehead. but you get a free show to the muscles hidden underneath atleast.

“thanks for earlier, by the way. that guy was weird.” you decide to speak first, although now you feel a little more unsteady than before as you lean most of your weight back against the door behind you.

“just doin’ my job, princess.” toji answers, his voice unwavering and despite the way clarity has finally got its grip on you again— only leaving you in the dreamy, blissful head space from your orgasm. you still don’t think it’s quite sunk in that you’ve just fucked campus security in the closet at a frat party.

“why break up a party if you’re off shift?” you try again and you watch the man infront of you stretch out his muscles as he tucks back in his shirt, but he still glances your way when he answers.

“it’s fuckin’ loud. you saying you’re not glad i did?” you shrug at that, not really sure what else to say as toji pushes himself towards you once more. he taps at your hip as a means to move you, making you suddenly aware of your exact location and the owners of the frat house that may still be creeping around outside. they live here after all.

“gimme a few minutes to do my job then go home. see ya around.” he drawls before he’s patting at his legs— eventually reaching into his back pocket after a few seconds and pulling out what you’d assume was his wallet. you watch him intently, barely propped up against the washing machine in the corner before he’s handing you a $20 bill.

“take this. since you couldn’t help yourself earlier, you got somethin’ to deal with now.” toji allows himself another look at you as his gaze lingers over your figure, watching the way your hand comes up to take the cash from between his fingers.

“uh.. thanks.” your voice is quieter now, but fuck— does it makes his cock twitch regardless. but he takes that as his queue to leave before he ends up in this shitty closet with you all night. he’s sure he could find out your classes for the next round, not like he’s a prick in a shirt and tie, right?

“if you ever need a party broken up, you know where to find me, princess.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[another-lost-mc]

library games

solomon likes to tease his apprentice, but things are bound to change the day he takes it a little too far.

solomon x gn!reader

1.7k words | nsfw | resolved sexual tension

cw: possessive behaviour, suggestive but not explicit sexual content.

a/n: this scenario takes place after the events of overture but can be read as a one-shot.

dark serenade series: part one: overture part two (you are here)

The first thing you notice when you step into Solomon’s library for today’s lesson is the sorcerer himself, his coat hanging off the back of his chair and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s leaning back in his seat with an open book in his lap and he doesn't look up when you enter the room.

You know the moment he’s aware of your presence because his eyes stop scanning the page and there’s a deliberate pause before he closes his book and glances at you expectantly. He smirks and crooks his finger, urging you forward from where you’ve paused in the doorway.

You’re carrying the tomes he assigned as yesterday’s homework and set them on the desk - yellowed, dusty texts filled with magical theory and spells that seem far above your current ability. You’re ready to take your seat, but you realize that Solomon is sitting in the only chair. There should be extras in a room nearby, but he sighs loudly when you turn around to fetch one.

“Can I ask where you’re going?” he asks with a hint of impatience.

“I’m going to get another chair, but I’ll be right back,” you explain quickly, waiting by the door for his approval.

He seems disappointed and you don’t understand why at first, but then he pushes his chair back and pats his thigh invitingly. “If you need a place to sit, my lap is always an option, my darling apprentice.” 

You should be immune to his flirtatious banter by now, but the invitation is so surprising that it makes you sputter and rush away to find a chair that is most definitely not his lap. He chuckles quietly behind you, but by the time you drag another chair into the library, the lighthearted moment between you has passed.

He can be mischievous at times, but you know not to test his patience when his mood turns serious. 

With a flick of his wrist, one of the books with yesterday’s homework slides across the table towards him and you hurriedly take a seat at his side.

“Let’s see how much you’ve learned, shall we?”

After nearly an hour, you’re overwhelmed by the whiplash of his brutal criticism and genuine encouragement. He is relentless as a teacher, correcting you with a firm tone when you can’t recite incantations or complex rituals perfectly from memory. The warm praise he offers when you do answer his questions correctly soothes your rattled nerves like a balm.

You lean back with a sigh and glance at Solomon who’s grown silent next to you. There’s a strange intensity in his gaze that makes you want to hide from his scrutiny. The tense moment passes and he says you’re advancing ahead of schedule. You can’t help how your cheeks grow warm at his appraisal and the pleased twinkle in his eye.

You had fair warning at the beginning of your apprenticeship that he wouldn’t tolerate laziness, disappointment, or failure from you; knowing that you’re exceeding his expectations makes you unspeakably happy. He’s more than a teacher to you, and above all else, you know he considers you a friend - and that’s not a word a man like Solomon uses lightly.

Lately, he seems even more daring as he teases along the boundary that separates friendship and something more romantic. From the early days of your acquaintance, his wisdom and strength gave you comfort and stability. You can’t help but feel uncertain now that he’s becoming noticeably more affectionate.

When it comes to Solomon, you know nothing is ever what it seems. You deflect his flirting and dodge his wandering hands with shaky resolve while you try to piece together the truth behind his intentions. It would be so easy to give into the temptation, to let him guide you down another new path in your relationship, but you don’t want to risk heartache later if your assumptions about his feelings for you are incorrect.

Solomon pushes his chair away from the table abruptly and it shakes you from your thoughts. He collects some of the books into his arms and he heads towards the towering wall of shelves behind you.

“I’ll put these away so you can take a short break before we begin today’s lesson,” he offers. He must be in a good mood because he’s humming cheerfully while he returns his books to their proper places.

You’re about to escape to the kitchen to make tea for both of you when he makes a questioning noise. As though he senses your curious gaze on his back, he says without turning around, “I left one of the books on the table. Would you be a dear and hand it to me?”

It’s the smallest book you were given to read after yesterday’s lesson, pushed out of the way early on once he was satisfied you had absorbed its contents. You reach for it but it seems to slide out from under your fingers and further away across the table. You frown and lean forward with your hand stretched out as far as you can manage. Your palm smacks against bare wood as the book slides away yet again.

In one last-ditch effort, you’re on the tips of your toes and nearly flat against the table; you grin triumphantly when you finally have the cover trapped under your fingertips. Your victory is short-lived when an unexpected weight brushes against your back. It causes you to jerk suddenly and the book slips from under your tentative hold. You groan in frustration when it falls over the other side of the table and flops onto the floor.

“I’ve wanted to bend you over my desk like this for days,” a low voice whispers into your ear. 

You’re stunned when you realize Solomon is standing behind you, leaning over you and resting his palms on the table so his arms cage your body in place. You can feel the heat of his body against your back, but he’s not quite touching you. It doesn't matter if he's touching you or not - you're still trapped beneath him.

“You were moving the book on purpose,” you mumble in embarrassment. Your mouth is dry and your cheeks burn when you realize the suggestive position you’re both in. You can’t turn to look at him without bumping against his chest so you hang your head in defeat instead.

It’s not the first time you’ve fallen for one of his tricks and it won't be the last.

One of Solomon’s hands strokes your hip and you try not to squirm. “It was an amusing game at first,” he admits and you know from his tone that he’s smiling. You feel his chest press against your back when he moves closer. His nose is in your hair, and you hear him breathe in deeply. His exhale is a sigh that tickles your ear. “But now that I have you like this, I’m not willing to let you go so easily.”

You try to ignore the hand that’s slowly making its way under your shirt. “Maybe we should talk about this first,” you suggest, but your voice is shaking and your protest sounds weak.

Solomon tuts disapprovingly like your suggestion is barely worth responding to. His fingers make their way across your waist and follow the slope of your belly, squeezing the soft folds of skin with the tiniest bit of pressure that sets your nerves ablaze.

Every time you start to doubt why he’s attracted to you, he distracts you - with murmured desires in your ear, his fingers searching for the places on your body that are most sensitive - and you know he’s doing it on purpose to prove his point.

He continues exploring your chest, rubbing over the pact marks etched into your skin like his touch can erase them. He doesn’t care that his body is littered with the evidence of his own pacts, but jealousy makes his blood boil when he thinks about others having a claim over you. Mine, he thinks when he gives into the temptation to grind against you, letting you feel your effect on him, the way his feelings for you rob him of nearly all self-control.

“Solomon, please—” you plead desperately; whether you want him to keep going or to stop is impossible to say at this point. You’re drowning in the heat of his body so close to yours, the frustration you can feel radiating from him in waves, the possessive hold he has on you.

“You’re mine,” he seethes between gritted teeth, crushing your body to his as he continues to move against you. His hands are exploring freely now, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise, kneading your soft flesh in apology after. He nips at your throat and drags his teeth against your shoulder. He bites down harder than he intends when he hears the first soft, breathy whimper escape you.

When you finally start to move, pushing your hips back against his, it rips a guttural moan from him and snaps the last tethers of his restraint. There’s a hand fisted in your hair and he pulls your mouth towards his. It’s less of a kiss and more of a heated exchange of needy, panting breaths as your quiet moans echo his own desperate sounds. He manages to draw your bottom lip into something resembling a kiss - the first kiss between you - and it gives you a moment of clarity.

“Not here,” you plead against his lips with the last bit of coherency you can muster. You’ve imagined what it might be like to finally give in to him, but you don’t want your first time together to be on an old, uncomfortable desk in his library. 

He seems to understand exactly what it is you want - like he always does -  because his body stutters to a halt and he presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. He moves back enough to turn you around in his arms, and the lustful haze that darkens your eyes makes him powerless to resist you. He pulls you against him and he feels your hands clench in the back of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll disappear. He brushes his lips against yours, a silent promise that he’s never going to let you go.

“Next time,” he teases with a wicked grin before teleporting you both to his bedroom with an audible pop.

read more: solomon masterlist | obey me masterlist