#i'm so sorry i'm so so so sorry but here you have it!!!!!
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tranny freak :)
#Negativity#Transphobia#I don't know what to tell you buddy I'm not sure what your goal is here#I am genuinely so much happier like this#Figuring out that I'm a tranny freak has been the absolute best thing ever#All the loved ones who I've come out to have been so welcoming and supportive#I get to experiment with my appearance like I haven't done since my punk days in highschool#And I've always been a weirdo so freak isn't even hurtful that's been a point of pride for decades#What made you want to hurt a stranger buddy#What are you going through#Are you gonna read this and scoff cause I took a troll sincerely#Why are you so afraid of genuine connection#Why are you scared of people#Are you happy with your life right now#Do you like yourself#How much time do you spend doing this#Do you think the negativity might be getting to you#How much time do you spend feeling repulsed scornful and annoyed towards others that you gotta do something about it#I'm really sorry#I used to be a similar kinda angry and that shit taints everything#Idk man I just hope you can see the joy in things someday#There's so much cool and exciting stuff you can find when you start looking for happiness and good intentions#Kinda sad that you're missing out
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CREAM SODA — gojo satoru minors dni
prologue. → you've always known that gojo satoru is a real piece of work. arrogant, haughty. definitely has a praise kink for when people always call him 'the strongest.' but you're not even friends anymore, so this isn't any of your business...right?
what you didn't know is just how nasty he is, caging you in front of a mirror to lick away blood that he spilled from the veins of another man, one who dared to touch you.
pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader
warnings+. secondary love interest in the form of a random oc, jjk lore being mildly twisted, history around the world, in-jujutsu universe (not an au), gojo going feral and batshit bonkers, rough séx, créampíe, INSANE glass-shattering jealousy, hate séx but only a bit, brééding, oràl (f. receiving). enemies to lovers, former friends, PLOT AND WORLD BUILDING BTW this isn't pẃp, éxhibitionísm, mirror séx, overstímulàtion, bratty reader but with a reason to be a hater, working together on a mission, mentions of alcohol and the crime underworld, DEFINITELY a bit dark because reader goes through emotional whiplash, descriptions of a fight and heavy injury, biting because i always somehow write gojo as a vampire type of freak?? the PRIME example of the miscommunication tropes and a case where neither person is in the right...nuance is your friend here, fake bodyguard!gojo, reader wears a dress + makeup for a formal event, angst, hurt, lashing out, some comfort and fluff
excerpt: part of you knows that you just aren't seeing those pearly gates of heaven.
you know there's going to be a bouncer at the doors, with your face printed on a photo titled: dni! fraud! liar! the world's most incompetent jujutsu sorcerer! would bounce into a criminal's bed at first chance!
word count. 22k!!!!!!! AURKAY!! song inspiration. cream soda — exo, is there someone else — the weeknd
a/n. spent way too long trying to learn ps for the header 😭 wrote this only because of the new grey suit gojo art <3 there's a secondary love interest in this for the ✨ plot ✨ but he's just a character i made up for this story. i would have used one of the other jjk men but it would made it into an au that i didn't feel like expanding on 😭
mp3.. feel that tinglin', that silky smooth cream, each swirl deepens the flavor, babe. baby, go dumb dumb!
"f-fuck, if i had known it felt like this, would've stuck my fingers in h-her a long time ago," gojo unfurls his fingers that only just separated from your fluttering pussy, and you can only watch.
equally mesmerised as his slender fingers are coated in strands of your slick, clinging to the curves of his short nails and coating them in a mirror sheen.
"have some c-class, gojo! you've lost your fuckin' mind -"
smack!
the dewy pads of his fingers have come down in a harsh arc, slapping right at your throbbing clit, and the jolt sends such an incredible crack of lightning down your spine that you're bucking your hips back up into his hand, back for more.
"some class? hah, 'm not able to do that now, baby," and you can feel gojo shudder under your touch, as you paw at the linen of his black dress shirt, raking your nails over his pectorals, "not when it f-feels like your pussy is about to, fuck, vacuum my fingers off."
"i swear to god, gojo. never say that corny shit a-again."
but it's hard to convey any sense of righteous fury like this. not when he's back to pushing the tapered ends of his long fingers in and out of your tight heat. each brush from the pads of his fingertips leaves you squealing, tugging at the snowy strands on the back of his head.
but gojo's teeth are sharp as they sink into the damp skin of your neck with an almost reverent press, easily snapping through the delicate flesh.
and you're squealing, shocked at how fucking bold gojo satoru has become, whining at how a sharp hiss pulses through you, and you can feel the warmth of blood beginning to bloom and pool over your collarbone.
"shit, 'm sorry, baby. so sorry. but i'm gonna need to see you l-like this," and suddenly gojo snaps away the pussydrunk babble falling from his candied mouth, and he's pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, and the air becomes hazy with the scent of an insanely expensive cologne, cedar and something...sweet, like cardamom.
still, there's hardly time to dissect that.
not when his thick arm is around your waist, handling you until you're smack bang between his legs, right between dark slacks. and gojo has shifted, so your back is flat against the hard planes of his chest, and your knuckles can only grip at the vanity sink. so your eyes can only see your naked torso twisting in the mirror.
"keep your eyes h-here, sweets. on us."
wait. you need to pause this tape, and do a little rewind.
how did you end up here, getting finger-fucked in a luxury five star suite? by the one man on earth that you swore that you could never stand?
(earlier that day)
the chandeliers had been shimmering overhead like stars, each fine crystal caught the golden light and scattered it across the grand lobby, and it was making your eyes flare and twitch.
this entire hotel felt frozen in time, some opulent relic of the roaring twenties, translated straight into tokyo's beating heart.
it was all so...pristine, and gaudy. and even the air carried that faint scent of hefty chanel no.5 and furniture polish.
but hey, this cheque wasn't coming out of your pocket, so who were you to complain?
that's how you rationalised it to yourself, right after a smartly-dressed waiter had floated past with a tray of shimmering champagne, one that you had easily helped yourself to.
ah, fuck it.
let the bill rack up on yaga's card. the least he could do after volunteering you to the higher ups for this mission.
a thick folder rested in your lap, clipped papers inside threatening to spill over from the sheer volume of information, that made your head spin.
of course, it was all courtesy of the jujutsu administration's obsession with drowning sorcerers in needless bureaucracy. and so you leafed through it idly, your thumb skimming over the crisp edges.
names, places, dates, all laid out in haphazard detail.
what a mess, it was a lot, but not enough to fill in the gaps that gnawed at you. the higher ups never gave you everything, fuck, they hated making it easy. still, your eyes caught onto key phrases.
urgent recall of cursed object. yes, that's why you were here. and not enjoying your saturday afternoon at home.
declaration of most expenses covered, in the instances of losing a limb. fair enough, insurance was honestly hell these days.
gain access to the auction being held by the voiceless. find their leader, naoki sato.
you knew of the voiceless, most higher grade jujutsu sorcerers did. a crime syndicate so shrouded in mystery. operating overseas for decades without so much as a cloudy whisper to the general public.
you made an unimpressed face as you kept reading, crinkling sheets under your fingers. smuggling, extortion, and a great deal of unexplained murders that would leave the cast of criminal minds scratching their heads.
how tasteless. still, you weren't the law, each to their own.
however, something made this case different. it made it your apparent problem.
for the voiceless were not your usual ragtag team of ruffian criminals, intent on scamming the vulnerable and sad.
their ranks comprised of wayward jujutsu sorcerers, with a hearty appetite for special artefacts, including cursed objects.
and now here they were, back on tokyo's soil, their hands covered with more than just the regular mundane crimes that could land a man behind bars for life.
you shifted in the plush, sinking seat. flipped to a page that had been practically painted in the most unforgiving shade of neon yellow highlighter.
ah, so this was the cursed object. raijin's amulet.
there was a grainy, slightly off-centre photograph clipped to the top of the document. the image was not much to look out, all washed colours and shadows that clearly didn't speak highly of the skills of whoever was behind the camera.
a circular pendant, a darkened forged creation of bronze and jade, covered in the soot of the ages gone by. spiralled with intricate carvings that reminded you of swirling storm clouds on a summer's evening.
and at it's centre sat a jagged shard of some precious golden stone, rough-hewn at the edges.
you were certain that this was the cause behind the distorted photography, for a modern camera was simply just not meant to capture such high levels of cursed energy.
there was even a faint shape of a dragon coiled around the pendant's edges, with its claws gripping the frame as if guarding it...or imprisoning it.
you weren't sure which. you're not sure you wanted to know which.
the accompanying notes were sparse, filled with frustrated gaps that left you squinting.
believed to be an ancient relic of the heian era. captured from the treasure hoard of the early medieval sorcerer, ryōmen sukuna, after his death.
huh, you hadn't heard that name since your school-days, back when you had poured over fraying history tomes, trying to pen the perfect essay to beat out suguru's flawless grades.
said to be imbued with the power of the lightning deity, raijin. capable of summoning and manipulating thunder, and disrupting various veils and curtains. last known location: the british museum, 1982. current location: unconfirmed.
clearly not an artefact meant to sit behind public museum glass.
dangerous in the wrong hands, and priceless in the hands of all. this must have been at least leagues above your current pay grade.
your thumb hovered over the corner of the page, bruising the white paper underneath as you scanned over the rest of the text, hoping and looking for a section that would be titled: and here's how to track raijin's amulet down and find it, with no bloodshed, and just in time for dinner!
no such luck.
"figures," you muttered under your breath, shoving the folder shut with a disgusted sigh.
this entire mission reeked of playing politics. for years, the voiceless had operated under the radar of other nations, disguising the tell-tale jujutsu as unexplained natural disasters and accidents.
there had been no intervention. they had been untouchable because no-one had the foreign jurisdiction, nor the guts to intervene.
but now, with the voiceless back on home soil, it seemed the higher ups wanted to make a statement. something like 'hey, we're actually useful at our jobs of protecting the jujutsu world!' and who better to clean up their mess than you and...
gojo satoru.
speak of the devil. you glanced up towards the grand entrance of the hotel lobby, as an unfortunate doorman stood by revolving, glass doors.
your...partner strode in, with dark sunglasses perched on his nose, and you scrunched your nose, taking in his appearance.
despite gojo's striking features that could render anyone speechless, he always looked like an odd bird of prey to you.
hawkish with creepy eyes, like a big snowy owl that had been hit by a curse, transforming him and forcing him to assimilate into the world of humans.
"i wasn't sure if you would come," you called, hoping that you masked the bitterness well that he had arrived, and significantly decreased the quality of your day.
"you wouldn't say that in bed," was gojo's snarky, automated reply, before he gave you a mildly embarrassed look, as if his immature mouth moved faster than his common sense did.
"still, sorry to keep you waiting," and gojo was crushing the heel of his boot into the cream marble of the floor, tapping it, all ridiculously long legs in the same uniform dress pants that you also donned, "traffic was hell."
"you don't even have a license," you grouched with a glare that you hoped was sharp enough to cleave time and space, but you stood up all the same, "and i wasn't waiting, i was working."
click! click!
gojo snapped his fingers, reaching for the folder stacked in your arms, "yes, of course you were, sweets," and he clicked his tongue, "now, why don't you hand that to me, and go check us in? i can look over what i need to do, let's get this done before night falls."
the audacity. the absolute nerve. how so typically gojo. swooping in at the last minute for kill shot, as usual, while others poured through all the paperwork, and did all the mental heavy lifting.
"you mean what we need to do, gojo," you snapped, your scowl deepening, "you're the late one. you go check us in."
gojo arched a pale brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched as though he wished he could just unwalk through those doors now, caught between amusement and exasperation. "you used to be so nice. what happened?"
"tsk! i think you happened, gojo. didn't ask to be stuck here with you."
"ah, so you do think about me, at least. but now you're jus' so difficult all the time."
"fuck off, i'm not difficult!" you shot back, before shrinking at the foul look that an elderly couple had directed your way, muttering something about how youth just didn't know how to act indoors, "i'm just saying it's not fair -"
"fine, whatever. don't care, sweets," gojo interrupted, already rolling big, blue eyes and turning away, "i'll go do it. you just stay nice and comfortable here."
and just like that, after comfortably raising your blood pressure (and heart rate), gojo satoru strode off towards the vast front desk, hands shoved lazily into his pockets, as though the two of you weren't on the clock to hunt down and find a dangerous criminal, his syndicate and a cursed object.
you trailed behind him, resisting the violent urge to grab his stupid sunglasses and fling them across the lobby. or stomp on them.
or just sit on them.
meanwhile, your eyes landed on the last and final page of the file, where a bright pink sticky note stood out sharply against the dull black and white of the case file.
final task: retrieve artefact. execute naoki sato on site. alternatively, bring in for execution.
the words were scrawled in thick, impatient strokes of a black marker. the kind that spoke more of efficiency, than humanity.
typical. there was just nothing that higher ups of the jujutsu world loved more than lopping the head off anyone that they deemed inconvenient. quick, clean and final.
still, this decision wasn't your business, not really.
you looked up to see gojo casually leaning against the counter, and his entire demeanour radiated smooth confidence as he spoke to the receptionist.
the sweet-looking woman had fumbled her worlds almost immediately, and she had dropped her pen twice. and he had caught it with an easy smile and wink that would have made you roll your eyes clean out of your skull.
you wanted to gag.
in less than a minute, gojo had the black keycard in his hand, spinning it between his fingers like some trophy as he sauntered towards the elevators.
you sighed as he stopped in front of you, extending the card with a flourish, like a knight presenting a courtier with a wreath of fresh-cut flowers.
"we're here for a mission, gojo. not to get it wet."
the tips of his ears flushed a bright, vibrant red. but his grin didn't falter as he huffed, and snatched the keycard back. leaving your arm floundering in the air before you dropped it.
"how crude. that's not even what i asked her. but still, you're welcome, sweets," he had said, stepping into the elevator and holding the door open for you with an exaggerated stretch of his arm.
"i didn't say thank you."
gojo smiled, tilting his head in that distracting, no. what? in that irritating manner of his, "no need. i could feel the gratitude radiating off you," and he's crossing his arms against his broad chest in a way that made the tailored uniform seem unfairly snug, "warms my heart."
"what if you don't have a heart?
for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flashed in gojo's eyes, irritation easily — but something unrecognisable, but he must have smoothed it away with practised ease. for that same cocky grin returned like clockwork, infuriatingly charming and just as insincere.
"what if it only beats for you?" he shot back, wiggling his fingers dramatically, and the motion was so over-the-top that it leaned closer to sleazy than heartstopping.
"now i'm worried, you need to get shoko to check that out. sounds like a serious health issue."
"your tender concern for my well-being is what keeps my blood pumping," and you know that gojo has little regard for the personal space for others, the way that the distance between you is closing once more, in a way that makes your own pulse flicker.
"please," and you take a deliberate step back to reclaim your own space, "if i wanted you gone, i wouldn't waste my time hoping for a heart attack. i'd do it myself."
gojo shrugs, tilting his head like you had just told him a sweet joke, "you're cute when you're homicidal, y'know that?"
"and you're insufferable all the time. we all have our talents."
gojo's barked out a laugh, and the sound is annoyingly genuine. it has you grinding your teeth together, making your jaw tight.
"hey, gojo," you swivel back to the towering bean-pole behind you, leaning against a steel bar.
"mhm, what?"
"i'll give you a hundred thousand yen if you keep your mouth shut during the entire elevator ride," you mutter, staring at the ground floor map, and up to where your suite was meant to be, hands fiddling over the buttons.
"deal."
you glance back, "that easy? clan money running low, gojo?"
gojo sighs, shaking his (ridiculous) snow-cone hair, "you have no idea. spent it all on a sweet talkin' girl who kicked me to the curb. even took the dog with her. who takes the fucking dog?"
despite yourself and your iron-clad resolution to not validate gojo satoru in anything, you snort, the first genuine laugh he's pulled out of you.
you choose not to notice how his eyes suddenly seem a shade brighter, as you snicker, "you're so ridiculous."
he doesn't reply as you press an index finger into the cool metal of the elevator button, and you turn around to see him sadly miming out his broke plight, with a sack of imaginary things over his shoulder, jingling the few coins he has.
tsk. you bite your lip to stop the corners of your lips lifting up to match gojo's own, wrinkling your nose in faux distaste as you spin back around, with gritted teeth. away from the mild bane of your existence.
true to his word, and shockingly so, gojo stayed silent through the elevator ride. mostly.
you caught his restless sighs, the shuffle of his ridiculously polished boots, and the occasional sharp intake of breath like he was simply dying to say something, but kept biting it back.
good. for once, it was nice to make gojo satoru stew.
the elevator dinged, and you had already stepped out, planning to ditch him in the suite, but clearly, gojo had other ideas.
"alright, sweets," he said, hand extended, "i won the bet. hundred thousand yen, i can take a cheque too."
you stopped short, glaring at his outstretched (sculpted) hand.
"right now? just as we're gonna plan how to catch a criminal? can't we do a pay later type of thing?"
gojo's responding grin was wolfish, and his voice dropped enough to make you bristle, "sure. pay later, with a kiss."
your groan must have echoed down the hall, and without thinking, you shoved past him. your shoulder colliding with his chest in a way that was deeply satisfying.
"my kisses," you snapped, refusing to look back at him, "are worth way more than a hundred thousand yen."
gojo didn't reply immediately, no. and for a second, you thought had finally managed to shut him up enough for a moment's peace to gather the thoughts that the white-haired man always managed to unravel.
but when you dared to glance back over your shoulder, his sharp gaze was fixed on you, and his lips were pressed together oddly — the faintest dusting of cherry pink peeking out underneath his sunglasses, and falling over his cheeks.
nary a peep from gojo then, save for him rushing past you to slot the keycard into the door. but holy fuck, the sheer luxury of this suite almost made you forget that gojo satoru even existed.
sleek dark woods, glowing orange accents, and a massive window that offered a panoramic view of tokyo's skyline. and then, there was the bed.
ridiculous in its decadence. a king-sized masterpiece, draped in plush linens that looked softer than the clouds dotting the afternoon sky. framed by polished ebony bedposts that gleamed in the warm light of the suite. the mattress was practically calling out to you, to sink your back into it.
wait, where was the other bed?
"nope! absolutely not," you blurted, spinning on your heel to face gojo who had sauntered in after you, pausing mid-step and clearly, equally caught off-guard with a stunned expression on his face — before morphing into something maddeningly smug.
"what?" gojo said, leaning casually against the doorframe, "it's a bed. you've seen one before, right?"
you tried to speak in a way that wouldn't quite make it show that you felt like your tongue was lead, jabbing a finger at the bed as though it had personally offended you, "there's only one!"
gojo's lips quirked upwards, his blue eyes gleaming with that irritating mix of amusement and mischief, most likely derived from your displeasure, "now look at that, we can count to ten. baby steps."
"don't start with me," you snapped, "i'm not crashing out there. i'd rather sleep in the hallway."
gojo tilted his head, the white tufts of his hair falling around his face, as though he were considering the suggestion seriously, "not sure the hotel staff would appreciate you loitering in their five-star corridors. won't stop you though, sweets."
"you can sleep on the couch," you try to offer helpfully, relishing in how it's his turn to scowl at you.
gojo's glancing towards the sleek leather sofa in the corner, most likely worth more than your monthly rent, "tempting," he drawls, "but i don't think that thing was designed for someone with legs this long," and he's slapping his hands on his thighs, and you do your very best to not track your stare down.
"then curl up like the overgrown house cat you are -"
"fuck you mean by that?"
"or sleep on the floor!"
"i'm liking these options less and less."
but then gojo straightens, and you're starting to see a small tick reach to the corner of his bright eyes, the faintest hint of irritation seeping through his drawl, "you know, for someone so desperate to avoid me, you spend a lot of time wondering where i'm gonna sleep."
you hate the traitorous flush heating up your face, "i'm thinking about it because you're my problem."
"well i hope i'm at least your favourite problem," gojo murmurs, brushing past you to toss his dark bag onto the bed.
"so, what's it gonna be?" gojo's voice was a lazy purr, patting the mattress beside him with a grin that could have launched a thousand arguments, "join me, or keep fighting a losing battle? because -" he faked a yawn, "i think i'm starting to get a bit sleepy."
"sleepy? you're a grown man, and it's barely three in the afternoon."
gojo arches a pale brow, and you have to force yourself to stop staring at the pink curve of his lips, "and? scared you won't be able to resist me in the middle of the night?"
"you should be scared you'll wake up with a pillow smothering your face."
gojo sighs, melodramatic and loud, rolling over onto his back, "i'd rather be smothered by -"
"gojo!"
his laugh is low and rich, and it vibrates in the air in a way that make your teeth itch, and your eyes roll, desparate to change the subject and actually get back on track.
you shove the hefty file in his direction, letting him flounder to grab a hold of it, "last page. naoki sato."
gojo's entire demeanor shifts, and falls under the mention of the name, eyes a touch darker, and suddenly serious in a way that almost makes you regret being on the clock. but he's pushed himself up from the bed, his legs dangling off the edge.
"what about him?"
you frowned, still turning over the situation in your mind, "well, he's supposedly working out of this district right, i mean, even this hotel? but why? i always thought crime bosses had creepy lairs in dark alleyways or something. and not," you gesture to the five-star architecture around you, "this."
gojo's broad shoulders shrug in that lazy way of his, like everything was beneath him, but there was something else flickering behind his perched sunglasses, "i've never even met him. just heard of him," but gojo seems to be chewing each word, as if choosing them carefully, "but what i've heard? not your typical criminal? he flies high, lives the wild life out in the open, rich and shameless."
you privately held back any biting comment that came to you as easy as breathing, about gojo also being the epitome of rich...and shameless. time and place, yeah?
gojo, thank the lucky stars, had not noticed you fighting demons to keep a straight face, "but then every so often sato vanishes off the radar, and then, bam!" your partner splayed his fingers, "he strikes again. always showing in a different place. the united states, france, england, egypt..."
you raise an eyebrow, tapping at your phone, "egypt?"
"egyptian artefacts are ridiculously powerful, sweets. i mean, on a whole other level. they aren't linked with y'know...jujutsu," he gestures vaguely between the two of you, "but whatever they've got is ancient and ridiculously potent. last the higher ups heard, naoki sato managed to get his hands on an old obelisk."
you shake your head at the prospect, humouring gojo, "whatever for?"
"whatever twisted things he does in his free time, fuck if i know. but of course, he couldn't control it. instead, it summoned the spirit of a massive serpent, killed a bunch of innocent civilians."
you have the faintest collection of the mythos surrounding an ancient serpent, and the thought makes you shudder, "wouldn't the local authorities have arrested him for that?"
gojo pushes his sunglasses up his head, so you're now looking back at unblinking blue eyes ringed by white lashes, "how do you arrest a guy who's practically a ghost? they couldn't even find him after all that shit. besides, his technique is something else. enhance. practically has control over every cell in your body."
you nod slowly, hoping that you're piercing it all together correctly, "so this auction is because he's got more of these artefacts? like raijin's amulet?"
gojo nods sharply, and you're struck by the intensity of big blue eyes with whorls of storm clouds lingering between his gaze, "i guess even villainous criminals want to make profit. but we can get a front row seat to whatever he's planning next."
"and stop him before that."
"right. that's what i said."
your frown deepens, "how the fuck does an entire auction stay hidden from the public?"
after all, you had scoured the floorplan of this hotel from base to rooftop, and not a single room or corner would accomodate naoki sato, and the voiceless that follow him.
gojo shrugs with infuriating nonchalance, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of the bed, "there's jujutsu that can create entire illusions. beneath this very hotel lies an entrance to a hidden ballroom, but it's been in and out of use for decades. we jus' need to slip in, find sato, and maybe shake him a few times until he spills the amulet's location."
you cross your arms, and the unfortunate truth lingers on your tongue, "if it were that easy, the higher ups wouldn't have sent you with me as backup."
"was that a compliment for me? careful, you might actually start liking me now."
and at your affronted expression, laugher is spilling out gojo satoru, sharp and cocky and awfully infectious.
you hated the sound, not because it wasn't nice, but because it was. too rich, too easy. the kind of laugh, from the strongest sorcerer to walk the earth, that made you wonder if ever took a damn thing seriously. with the unfortunate side effect of questioning why it was so annoyingly attractive at the same time.
nobody should get to look that good while being such an unbearable ass. it was unfortunate, you thought grimly, how much you liked seeing him laugh though.
"i don't think i'd ever like you at all, gojo."
but alas, the world has a cruel way of making you wish that the earth swallowed you whole. and your heart and mind certainly aren't on speaking terms with each other to coordinate properly. for the barb flies out of your mouth like an uncontrolled reflex, a rogue arrow hitting its mark.
and you're left grimacing as gojo's smile stills. not vanishing completely, but frozen while something cooler and sharper slips into his gaze. the awkward silence that follows is loud enough to make you wince and pray that a lightning bolt strikes you down right now.
gojo gives a quiet cough, and you're wondering just how much of his nonchalant facade he has left intact. fuck, you were a bit of an ass yourself.
"ah, gojo. i didn't mean -" you started, stumbling over the words, desperate to backpedal, if only for the sake of the mission. right?
"don't strain yourself pretending," gojo cuts you off, and you're mildly stung by the smooth edge of venom coating his voice, despite his relaxed smile, "let's just get this job done, yeah? it's just us two here because no-one else could put up with you. i was the only one left who actually wanted to try."
well. ouch, that was a low blow. motherfucker.
your jaw tighten, and for a moment, all you can do is stare into vibrant blue eyes. surely, that wasn't true...right? and how awful that the sharp look in his eyes softened into a smug satisfaction as he registered how his own barb had found his mark.
now, gojo satoru is leaning back with an air of victory, crossing his arms as if to bask in it. talk about drawing more blood from a wound than necessary.
"you're awful, gojo," you bit out, praying that whatever tremor lives in your throat is not enough to appear in your voice.
"yes, i know. you say that all the time."
it was almost tragic, you thought bitterly, how in those fleeting few minutes, you had found gojo satoru bearable. likeable even. insightful, in his own smug way.
but now, the two of you were back to square one, staring each other down with walls firmly back in place.
sure, your quip had been mildly unnecessary, but it wasn't like he hadn't heard your blithe and bland comments by now?
but still, gojo's words gnawed at you. the idea that no one else wanted to put up with you, except him, of all people, burrowed deeper than it had any right to.
maybe it was petty, but you weren't about to let gojo satoru have the last word.
"remember that the higher ups want naoki sato executed," you said, breaking the terse silence.
gojo didn't even glance up from the file he'd been pretending to skim, his long fingers casually flipping a page. and that nonchalance made your stomach churn with irritation.
when he finally looked up, his expression was a mix of curiosity, and disdain, as if you had become a particularly stubborn puzzle that he'd decided was not worth solving, "yes, i know that too. so what?"
"you and i both know you've had trouble executing criminals in the past."
a calculated jab, sharper than they needed to be. and you saw the impact hit almost immediately. gojo's jaw tightened, and the glint in his frosty blue eyes disappeared, replaced by something darker, furious even.
suguru geto was still well and alive, often appearing on television as a friendly priest who would cure one of all their ails such as lower back pain or bad headaches, for the low price of joining the ranks of his organisation (read: cult). but he still remained a sore point for...everyone. you, included.
gojo, especially.
and now the air between you shifted, chilling like a winter draft had snuck into the room. your eyes fell on gojo's knuckles as they tightened around the file, his expression stony.
you shouldn't have felt proud of yourself for getting under his skin, for pulling a genuine reaction from him. but you did. you'd found a crack in his flawless armour, without needing to bypass infinity.
and it was satisfying.
"f-fuck you," gojo said finally, the razor edge in his voice was matched only by the glare he pinned on you.
you crossed your arms, doing your best to feign indifference despite the adrenaline surging through you. ignoring how you felt an awful pit in your stomach sprout, rendering you rather nauseous, and quoting his previous words, "don't strain yourself pretending it's not true."
gojo satoru's glower could have melted steel, and for a moment, you wondered if you'd gone too far. but he stood, slowly, his movements deliberate as he slammed the file shut with a resounding snap.
you watched as he snatched up his smaller bag, and swung the door open with enough force that you were surprised that it didn't fall off its hinges, "just be ready by the time i get back. 'm gonna take a walk."
and you were left, alone, in a room that suddenly felt so much more suffocating.
you weren't sure how long it had been since gojo had stormed out, leaving the room icy in his absence. you hadn't moved from your spot by the door, though you told yourself that you were entirely fine.
arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin, defiant line. but even as you stared at the dark panels of the door, the lie began to unravel.
you told yourself that you just didn't care for gojo satoru. that you didn't like how he was too loud, too reckless, too overwhelming, a force that just didn't fit into the neat confines of your world.
the heat rising to your cheeks must have betrayed you, as did the tight knot in your chest. it had been...not your wisest choice to lash out at him, or to even bring up his name. suguru geto, a wound that would never close for anyone.
but more than that, you hated the memory of his expression just before he left. hurt, and anger. and something far more raw.
he would come back, you knew that much. gojo was much too dutiful to leave a mission and abandon a chance to do some good in this world. it should have been a comfort, but it did little to ease you. instead, that certainty only twisted the guilt tighter in between your ribcage.
finally, you yanked the door open, fuelled by an impulse you didn't care to name. you wanted to catch him outside, mid-pace and brooding. just so you could say...something. anything.
but the hallway was empty, stark and silent, with only the dim flicker of warm light as your witness. you bit your tongue as your stomach churned sourly with disappointment.
and instead, you just slammed the door shut, letting the sound reveberate with just as much force that gojo had slammed the door with, on his way out. you leaned against the wood, closing your eyes as you did your level best to swallow that lump of regret making a home in your throat.
pacing helped for about...three minutes. shuffling through the case files on the table did nothing but remind you of why you were here, why you had both been sent. after all, was this mission not bigger than you, or him? was this not about bringing naoki sato to justice?
it didn't feel that way.
your gaze landed on the garment bag handing from the chair, untouched from when you had pulled it out earlier, back when gojo had been inviting you...to bed.
sort of.
you unzipped the bag with (mildly) trembling hands, letting the fabric spill into your grasp. no doubt that the dress was beautiful, a masterpiece of icy, powder blue and shimmering sequins that caught the light like scattered stars.
well, this had certainly been worth half your paycheck.
your fingers brushed over the delicate embroidery, and for a moment, you felt a mild sting of your own hypocrisy and yearning heart. you accused gojo of being cold, distant and unfeeling, and yet here you were, holding a dress that reminded you of him in every way. the pale blue of the fabric, like the frost in his storm-eyes when they rested on you for too long.
if you ever came face to face with cupid, you would beat him with a baseball bat.
you sighed, dropping the dress onto the bed before gingerly stepping out of your uniform, as cool air stung your skin.
what had you been thinking, treating gojo like that? he didn't deserve your anger, not truly. you knew how much your former classmate carried, how much he gave himself to this cursed and thankless world.
but of course, the little pronged-devil on your shoulder whispered around the shell of your ear. he often drew equal blood from stinging cuts, no-one wanted to put up with you, anyway.
still, there was no use in showing up to a gathering of some of the world's most rich, wealthy and seedy looking like a hollow and shaken ghost. and this mission was just not about gojo, it was about the greater good of the jujutsu world, and that's what you repeated in your head like a mantra, as you swiped plush-red across your cheeks and lips.
a diamond necklace around your throat was the final touch. well, you say diamond, but the truth was more...cheap. still, the strand shone in linked chains of pretty crystals. and that had still been a minor fortune for one who lived on a jujutsu paycheck.
the hours had stretched the afternoon into evening, settling a fragile calm over the suite that made you ache to stretch your limbs out, and take in some fresh air.
but the silence was shattered by a sharp knock at the door, purposeful and deliberate. and it made you freeze, hands still resting on the straps of your glitzy shoes, a frown knitting your brows.
gojo had the keycard, did he not? but who else would be banging your door down?
with a sigh, you stood and lifted the hem of your dress as you crossed the room. opening the door with every intention of scolding him for whatever drama he was dragging in this time.
instead the words just about died a sad and lonely death on your tongue.
gojo satoru.
for a brief second, your thoughts emptied entirely, as though he had cast infinite void right over you, leaving you staring with a heart that hammered like a caged bird.
gone was his usual, drab uniform. instead, he had swapped the dull fabric for a sleek, black dress shirt that clung just right, paired with a crisp, grey jacket that framed his broad shoulders.
you tried to not let your gaze linger on the open gap right under the white tie that hung slightly loosened from his neck, where silk kissed creamy skin.
but gojo’s face was unreadable, distant and cool. you hated how his mere presence always seemed to tilt the world off its axis.
and you blinked, forcing your mouth to close, and you stepped back to let him in.
"you’re late. again," you snapped, but your voice lacked its usual venom, tempered by the sharp edges of minor guilt that refused to settle in you.
"whatever. ‘m here now, aren’t i?" gojo’s tone was casual, but his eyes lingered a second too long, leaving your skin prickling with self-conscious awareness.
it seemed that the universe needed to hit you with some karmic intervention, and you decided to take the rare moral high ground, "about earlier," you began, trying to steady yourself, "i shouldn’t have said -"
"forget it, sweets," gojo interrupted with a shrug, though his jaw was tight, "i’m not keen on hearing excuses. i get it."
you bristled, biting back the immense urge to shove him, an urge that becoming disturbingly frequent, "i wasn’t making excuses," sounding out each word slow and deliberate. anger simmering under the surface at his holier-than-thou attitude, "that was an apology."
that made gojo pause, and now he fully turned to you, expression shifting. though it was hard to read, caught between painful acknowledgement and absurd pride that would include him admitting that he was affected by what you said.
for a moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched unbearably heavy. but then gojo’s ice-gaze dropped to the necklace scattered over your throat, and he tilted his head, "not too bad," a flicker of a scoff curling at his lips.
"tch, they’re not even real," you blurted, then immediately regretted it, what was wrong with you today? you reached up, fingers grazing the cool crystals as if to shield them from his bemused scrutiny, "just thought i needed something to fit in."
gojo slid a pair of tinted sunglasses from his pocket, sliding them up his nose, smooth and practised, "in a room full of the filthy rich and tastelessly overdressed?" his pink mouth twitched, "you’ll fit in perfectly."
gojo was right. this was just…tacky.
the ground floor of the building had been nothing but a sleek, cold lifeless maze of marble, and now he had led you down into what could only be described as a scene for criminals with bad taste. an abandoned parking lot stretched out in front of you, a grimy stretch of concrete that left you expecting a quiet dead end.
until gojo waved his hand, and the illusion clearly met for non-sorcerer eyes shattered.
before you, a set of massive double doors emerged, seemingly from nowhere, and the lifting of the veil had left you disoriented, nauseous. but when the doors swung open, you almost felt like you were stepping into a warped fever dream.
this room inside was the most bizarre mixture of garish opulence that you had ever seen. gold…everything. the walls plastered in a deep red, like someone had dipped the entire place in velvet swathes and then covered it with more gold leaf.
plush, overstuffed settees sat like soft, jewel-toned thrones in every corner, and glass boxes lined the walls, each holding what looked like nothing more than expensive junk, tacky figurines and diamond-encrusted trinkets.
it was the kind of place you’d absolutely expect a mob boss to call home after a particularly long, indulgent afternoon making questionable life choices.
the hall reeked of wealth, the kind that demanded to be seen. opulence dripped from every corner — gilded fixtures, crystalline chandeliers, and glass displays showcasing treasures that screamed money but whispered nothing of taste. you twitched as you passed a goblet encrusted with enough jewels to buy a small city-state. the thought of how much it probably cost made your stomach twist.
"focus," gojo muttered at your side, his tone clipped. he squinted slightly, his sunglasses doing little to shield his six eyes from the garish light that spilled over the room like liquid gold., and you could tell it was a bit...much for his senses, making him blink rapidly. "we’ll sweep the displays, see if the amulet’s here."
you tilted your head, gesturing toward his snowy mop of hair, the unruly strands falling messily over his face and grazing the edge of his glasses. "and you’re sure they won’t recognise you, in this whole...circus?"
gojo's responding glance was sharp, flat, and utterly devoid of humour.
"most of these people wouldn’t recognise a threat if it was biting them in the ass," he said, voice low and laced with disdain. "they’re not sorcerers. just your garden-variety rich and bored — criminals, trust fund brats, maybe a politician trying to look cultured. the kind of people who buy antiques because they match their curtains and makes them look good for their friends."
the corner of your mouth betrayed you, twitching upward at his cutting dismissal of the glittering nonsense around you. he had hit the nail on the head, making contempt seem like an art form.
and worse, you hated how there was something almost…sexy about it.
the thought hit you like a slap, and you forced it down immediately. gojo and sexy didn’t belong in the same sentence. not in the same universe. fuck, not even as a passing joke.
"charmed as i am by your high opinion of humanity," you said dryly, trying to ground yourself in sarcasm, "maybe don’t make it obvious you hate everyone here. we're not here to arrest every person in this room."
gojo snorted softly, his lips curving into what might have been a smirk — or at least the ghost of one. "you think so little of me. i don’t hate everyone." his eyes flicked toward you, just for a second, before returning to the vast hall ahead.
it wasn’t much. barely a glance of electric blue. but it was enough to send your pulse into a sprint, and fuck him, he had to know it. you turned your attention to the nearest display, praying he didn’t notice the warmth blooming in your cheeks.
traitorous.
"let’s just find the amulet, and sato. and get out of here," you said briskly, your voice a shade too sharp.
"mhm," gojo's voice was infuriatingly calm, but when you looked up, his gaze wasn’t on the displays. it was on you.
"you look lost."
a voice, smooth and low, slid over you like silk, stopping you cold in your tracks. it hadn't come from gojo by your side, thank the heavens above, but it didn't make your heart any steadier. you turned towards the source, and your stomach did a three-point flip.
well. hello, gorgeous.
the type of good-looking that just felt unfair. the type that made you forget your name for half a second, and then hate yourself for it. the strnger stood out against the room of puffed-up men in overpriced suits, glittering with real diamonds of their cuff-links, and rolled cigars in their hands.
your eyes fell on dark auburn strands that fell in perfectly tousled strands over his forehead, and a tailored black suit that hugged a slender waist.
"i hope you didn't wander into the wrong hall," the stranger said, curling his lips into a faint smile, fraught with suspicion as it was.
you forced yourself not to stare — at an absurdly sharp jawline, at big brown eyes. but words were a different matter entirely. you struggled to conjure them, grasping for anything remotely coherent.
you settled on an appropriate response.
"um. no, we didn’t."
not your finest moment. not even close.
before you could mentally regroup with a few brain cells, a sharp jolt yanked you back to reality. you sucked in a sharp breath as gojo's long fingers pinched the underside of your arm, a deliberate sting that left you glaring at him.
he didn’t even bother to meet your eyes.
his entire focus was fixed on the stranger, his posture taut with unspoken tension, gojo's jaw clenched so tight you thought he might crack a perfect tooth.
the air shifted subtly, a faint hum of energy emanating from gojo. you knew that hum. it meant trouble. gojo, ever the master of simmering hostility, was gearing up for something, and he was looking weirdly agitated.
and you found it tasteless to jump the first person you had run into here.
"i usually know most of the guests at my events," the stranger continued, his voice calm, unbothered — but there was an edge to it, like he already knew the answer to the question he hadn’t asked.
oh.
you felt your stomach plummet as recognition dawned.
naoki sato.
no wonder gojo looked ready to snap someone in half. naoki wasn’t just anyone — he was the head of the voiceless. the host of this auction. the man whose fortune was built on enough shady dealings to fill a large library. the one who had more blood on his hands than those who had been dealt life sentences.
one of the most wanted jujutsu criminals in the world.
"you've — " gojo started, his voice sharp, but you cut him off with a forced, almost too-bright smile.
"you've thrown quite the party," you said, your words tripping over themselves as you elbowed gojo subtly, hoping to god he’d take the hint. "i’m actually quite new to the area. just exploring, hoping to find something good tonight."
gojo let out a low grunt, a sound that promised retribution later. you ignored him and plastered on a wider smile, one you hoped would distract from your partner's upcoming reversal: red.
"and, ah. this is my bodyguard...genji," you added, giving gojo's arm a firm retributive pinch through the fabric of his jacket.
the look he shot you could've melted steel, but you held your ground, determined not to let him ruin this.
if for once, he could take your plan into account, a great deal of bloodshed could be avoided.
naoki's faint cherry smile widened, bemused, "your…bodyguard?" he echoed, gaze flickering to gojo satoru.
gojo who stood like a coiled spring, gojo who certainly was no method actor. his icy glare practically speaking volumes of 'i will burn this room down.'
"well," naoki drawled, his tone almost playful now, and you flushed, "i hope you find what you’re looking for here."
behind him, his entourage, a cadre of hulking men stuffed into suits barely containing their bulk, followed with synchronised precision. they looked more like walking fortresses than bodyguards, with their cold and suspicious eyes cutting through the room as they passed.
one of them shot you an odd look, and you forced yourself to feign interest in a nearby display of sapphire-encrusted forks.
the moment the criminal was out of earshot, gojo leaned down, "genji? really?"
you shrugged, ignoring how you felt your nerves fray. and refusing to meet him half-way, "what? okay, i panicked. it was the first name i thought of."
"yeah, that was so convincing," gojo muttered darkly beside you, and you caught some bitten off words about how he was never going on a mission with you again, how yaga should never have roped him into this.
all things you blithely ignored.
you didn’t need to look at him to know he was furious. it rolled off him in waves, the tension in his posture, the barely audible hum of cursed energy still crackling under the surface.
"we don't even know where the amulet is. and imagine if we show up in front of yaga without it. you can do whatever you like with him after we get our hands on the cursed object," you whispered back, pretending to study the ridiculous cutlery with exaggerated focus.
gojo lowered his head, as though he suddenly saw the worth in gemstones embedded in cutlery, but just enough so he could glower at you. "you're flirting," he hissed, "i could have blasted through half this room, and just finished the job by now."
you coughed and hackled, "not all of us think effective battles are fought with a hollow purple."
"and not all of us,” gojo bit back, "feel the need to blush like schoolgirls the second someone bats an eyelash at us."
heat shot through you, part anger, part something you didn’t want to name. "blush?” you snapped. "i wasn’t blushing."
"you just wanted to jump his bones. thought we weren't here to get it wet."
"i'm not entertaining this conversation," but your voice was mildly higher pitched, drawing attention, "is that why you were there? standing like an idiot, or a jealous ex-boyfriend?"
gojo's sneer faltered, just for a split second, but it was enough to make your heart lurch with a strange, vindictive triumph.
"i wasn’t jealous," he said, "i was doing my job. y'know, being a jujutsu sorcerer. bringing a criminal to justice."
you opened your mouth, ready to retort, but no words came. because he wasn’t entirely wrong, and that infuriated you more than anything.
so instead, you lifted your hand, placing it firmly on his shoulder, onto the crisp and fine fabric of his jacket. you didn't miss the way he stiffened, briefly disarmed.
"look, i've got this. just stay close."
gojo's jaw tightened, and you could feel the unspoken protest simmering there. before he could get a word in, you turned away and called out.
"hey! naoki!"
the red-haired man stopped mid-stride, turning his head back toward you with a quizzical look. the confident words you’d planned evaporated the moment his sharp, brown eyes pinned you in place.
"i mean, naoki sato. mr. sato," you fumbled, mentally kicking yourself.
brilliant start. truly one of jujutsu tech's finest.
naoki raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from confusion to faint amusement. his gaze flicked to gojo, who had crossed his arms like a fortress of disdain and immense ill-will.
"found something you like?" naoki asked smoothly.
you ignored the huff that escaped the white-haired man next to you, and forced a smile, "actually, i was hoping you could help me choose something out. i'm not an expert here, and there's just so much to see."
naoki's bodyguards shifted, their expressions darkening as if you’d committed some unspoken faux pas. but the crime boss merely tilted his head, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
"ah, well," he said, drawing the word out lazily, "i don’t usually get this forward with my clients, but i suppose i'll make an exception."
his eyes slid once again to gojo, who was now glowering at a waiter hovering too close to his personal space, on the edges of infinity. "your bodyguard," naoki added helpfully, "can walk behind you. perhaps he'd like a drink to keep him occupied."
gojo's snarl could have peeled garish paint off the walls, "i don't want it."
you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the stubborn ass.
instead, you pasted on a smile, tight and sweet, and shot gojo a look that could cut glass, "our host is offering you something. you want that drink, genji."
"i don’t want cream soda," gojo muttered, all mulish in his six foot three glory.
gritting your teeth, you flashed naoki a helpless look, like what can you do? bodyguards, am i right?
and you reached for the waiter's tray, grabbing a tall glass of the offending soda and thrusting it into gojo's warm hand. then you leaned in, your voice a whisper, "take it. smile and act normal. ten minutes, that’s all i need."
for a moment, his blue eyes locked on yours, a storm of irritation twirling in them. you were now close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, close enough to notice the faintest hitch in his breath.
but gojo, for once, didn’t argue. with a final glare, he downed half the glass in one long, defiant gulp, his adam’s apple bobbing as he drank.
naoki laughed, watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled amusement, "you're very kind to the help. shall we?"
you shot gojo satoru one last look — a mix of triumph and warning —before stepping forward.
but your partner, predictably, looked like he'd rather swallow glass than stand a moment longer here. still, bodyguard is as bodyguard does, and he trailed after you like a reluctant shadow.
"i must admit," naoki began, his brown eyes catching the glittering lights as they swept over you, "it's rare to see someone so beautiful at these things. i think i would have remembered seeing you before, too. i'm usually stuck with old men trying to swindle me out of my fortune."
a flush climbed up your neck, unwelcome and irritating at what must have been calculated words, enough to flatter and also to disarm.
behind you, gojo audibly scoffed, clearly abandoning all manner of proper etiquette. you glanced over your shoulder to see him gripping the stem of a champagne flute, his knuckles white. the empty glass of cream soda had been abandoned in favour of something stronger.
he caught your eye and rolled his, making a slicing gesture at his neck followed by a pointed hurry up motion.
"ignore him," you murmured to naoki, pushing forward.
naoki’s eyes gleamed with amusement, easily unbothered as he gestured for you to continue walking. "does your bodyguard always look like he’s seconds away from murder, or is this special treatment for me?"
you didn’t dare look back at gojo, “he’s just protective," you said carefully.
naoki chuckled, "protective, sure. but of his job...or you?"
the words struck a nerve you refused to acknowledge, so you pressed the conversation forward. ignoring the jitter that erupted in your stomach.
"can i ask...," you said, tilting your head just enough to feign casual curiosity, "are these all cursed objects? or just pretty trinkets?"
naoki's amusement didn’t falter, but his gaze sharpened, assessing you like you were a puzzle he was only now beginning to piece together.
"why?” he asked smoothly, "are you interested in jujutsu? i thought you were here to...browse."
fuck, caught, but not completely.
you played it off with a small shrug. "some members of my family dabble in jujutsu," you said, letting a sliver of truth escape, but letting the rest of your words drip with lies, "i can only see curses, i'm not a sorcerer. but most of my family still hates me for how i was born."
behind you, gojo shifted, his movements a touch sharper than before. he hadn’t known that, hadn't known the small truth that you had snuck into your words.
but naoki's expression softened, his smile more thoughtful now. "that’s rare. and often not appreciated, i imagine.”
you hesitated, cautiously, but nodded. "not by them, no."
"i understand. my parents hated jujutsu. thought it was unnatural, and against the way of the world. my grandfather...he was the only one who didn't," and there's a quiet sincerity threading naoki sato's words, "he raised me when my parents refused to. at least, until he passed."
something in his story tugged at you — a familiarity you hadn’t expected. your family’s disdain for your own jujutsu, their rejection, mirrored in his words. it was unsettling, but oddly not unwelcome.
"i’m sorry about your grandfather," you said softly.
"and i, about your family,” naoki replied, a calm mask settling over his features once more, reminding you so painfully of the sorcerer who trailed behind you, "no-one should be made to feel lesser, sorcerer or not."
you caught your lip between your teeth, hoping the red stain didn't catch onto your teeth, "i thought most sorcerers hated humans."
naoki shrugged, "we aren't all that different. all flesh and blood with temporary lives."
oddly wise words from a mass murderer, thief and criminal.
you glanced over at gojo again, and just as you predicted, his scowl deepened and the glass looked like it was about a shatter in his hands. if looks could kill, naoki sato would be the first to go, no questions asked, followed by you.
naoki snickered, "your shadow grows restless."
"ignore him, please," you muttered, stepping closer to a glass case to distract yourself, "what’s this?"
naoki followed, stepping closer so you could catch the scent of expensive almond and saffron, "ah," he said, gesturing at the artefact inside, "a blade, from ming dynasty china. the jade serpent on the hilt grants its wearer the ability to control minds. some say it can even raise the dead."
the claim sent a shiver down your spine, but you masked it with feigned interest, nodding as naoki moved on.
"and here," he continued, pointing to a golden ring, with an oddly boyish grin for someone dealing in murderous items, "the lion's eyes. said to see through any veil, any curse. the last treasure of the dynasty of the pharoahs."
you tried to listen, but gojo's presence loomed larger with every word. his disdain for naoki sato, his barely concealed anger at the stolen objects— it was all too palpable. when you glanced back, his scowl had deepened, and the champagne glass in his hand looked on the verge of shattering.
if looks could kill, naoki sato would already be six feet under. you would be next on the list.
you swallowed hard, turning back to naoki sato and pointing at the next display. "and this?"
naoki pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks, "the broken english crown. apparently worn by the last king to die on the battlefield, and i haven't tried it on," he shares this with you, with a conspiratorial smile, "but legends say it fractures the bones of anyone deemed not powerful enough to wear it."
this criminal was not what you had expected at all. it was hard to reconcile the image of a hardened criminal with years of ruthless ambition, with this effortless charm and disarming way of making you lose the blurred line of correct propriety. you tried not to stare at how the warm light caught his auburn hair, like the autumn leaves in the dappled sun.
and yet, it wasn’t just his looks that threw you off. it was the way he carried himself — like he had nothing to prove and everything to hide. dangerous in a different way, one that was far harder to guard against.
it reminded you of gojo satoru.
"you know, i have to admit," naoki said, gesturing to the gilded displays around him, "most of this stuff? tacky as hell. but then, you would be surprised what most people would pay for tacky."
from a swindler, fraud and scammer? you were quite sure.
"funny, coming from someone whose livelihood depends on it. isn't that gaudy by association?"
naoki winked, and you averted your gaze from long brown lashes fluttering against soft skin, "touché. but people don't want to just buy the artefact, or the cursed object. they want the story. that shit's priceless."
you swallowed, focusing on how gojo was trying to draw your attention to a glass case hidden by all the others, and you hoped you weren't squinting, "so, you're just a storyteller then?"
but beside you, naoki sato tilted his head, "you could say that."
you thought of the clipped photos printed into the file. some in black and white, and some in raging shades of colour. where naoki sato's hands had painted entire buildings in shades of sticky red, and heads rolled on the floor. where his enhance technique could burst arteries and lungs, leaving people in pieces on the floor.
"sounds dramatic," you said, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.
"life's dramatic, and too short to not take what i want," naoki replied with a faint smile, his hand lightly brushing your waist as he guided you further past long tables.
you leaned into it without thinking, a tiny movement that made a creamy, berry flush paint over naoki's features. and the sorcerer's laugh was warm, low, like he’d already won something you didn’t realise was at stake.
behind you, a sharp cough broke the moment.
gojo.
you let your lips curl into a faint smile and leaned into naoki's just a fraction more, with a very deliberate look, one that spoke of triumph and having tamed a beast.
gojo's scowl deepened, his shoulders taut with barely restrained frustration, and he started mouthing at you, silent as his lips parted. if you read his mouth carefully, well...
he was calling you rather unflattering names.
"what's that?" but it was gojo's voice that roughly cut through the air, like gravel grinding underfoot. his shaded eyes were fixed on the glass case tucked in the corner.
you followed his gaze, past his outstretched arm, and your stomach twisted.
raijin's amulet.
the cursed object you’d been hunting, the one you’d sworn to protect at all costs, gleamed innocently behind its protective glass. you could recognise the serpentine dragon coiled protectively around the stone at its centre, its intricate carving daring anyone to claim it.
your frantic eyes met gojo's. his were sharp, seething. then, both your gazes flicked to naoki.
naoki, of course, noticed nothing — or pretended not to. he let out a soft hum, following gojo's pointed stare.
"the bodyguard's interested too?"
you coughed, cutting through the rising tension before gojo could turn that look into something explosive. the glass case between them might as well have been kindling for the fire brewing.
"it's mainly for academics," you said, feigning an air of curiosity. then, with practiced innocence, you tilted your head and smiled at the dangerous special grade cursed object as if it were nothing more than an ordinary trinket.
"but it’s so pretty. what is it, really?"
naoki's hand tightened subtly on your waist, and you tried to ignore the guilt that bubbled up in your chest when his sharp features softened at your feigned interest.
"it’s just an old thing," he said, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret meant only for you, "did you know it once belonged to ryomen sukuna?"
your mouth was dry, but you kept your face blank, tilting your head as though you’d never heard the name before, "sukuna?"
naoki pressed his palm to the glass case, his expression shifting into something darker, more reverent.
"the king of curses," he murmured. "lived over a thousand years ago. ruthless. when he died, most of his treasures were plundered by clans too greedy for their own good. but this..." he tapped the glass softly. "this one? it wasn't easy to get my hands on."
you leaned closer, feigning fascination while calculating your next move, trying to figure out how you could get close enough to that glass case without shattering the illusion cast on naoki sato, "what does it do?"
for a moment, naoki's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in their depths. but just as quickly, his expression smoothed out, and he chuckled.
"trust me, beautiful," he said, his voice like silk with an edge of warning. "you don’t want to wear that thing. i could get you something far more...safe."
you forced a smile, ignoring the chill that ran down your spine. instead, you threw a quick, desperate glance at gojo — a silent plea for the strongest to listen to you: i'll distract him. you get the amulet.
gojo's expression tightened, but his head snapped once, briefly, in the faintest hint of acknowledgement.
time to move.
you let out a soft, breathy laugh and tugged naoki toward a table, your hand brushing his arm with casual ease. "let’s sit," you suggested, leaning into his toned chest just enough to sell the act. "all this walking is making me tired."
naoki's laughter was warm, a touch too easy, and he let you guide him without resistance, "tsk, whatever you want," he murmured.
now you're trusting gojo satoru, simply because you had no other choice. he had to get the amulet out of the glass before alarms began to blare, and before needless blood was spilt over the glimmering floor.
and so you sat, letting naoki have his back to gojo, oblivious to the white-haired shadow slipping closer to the case. your eyes lingered on gojo, pulse racing each time he disappeared behind one of naoki's own burly guards.
but then naoki sato's gaze locked onto you, drawing your attention back with a searing warmth that caught you off guard.
"so," he asked, eyes glinting, "what do you think of all...this?"
"it's impressive," and you're surprised at how the truth has found a home in your mouth, "i didn't ever think of different sorcerers, around the world."
naoki leaned closer, with his elbows on his thighs, propping his face upon his hands, "most people don't. here, it's all about jujutsu. tokyo, this. kyoto, that. the higher ups are so narrow-minded. stuck in their ways, obsessed with tradition. they don't know anything about the world out there."
for a moment, his words startled you. they weren’t the boastful musings of a crime boss but something else. they reminded you of how gojo spoke about the rigidity of the old ways, about why he fought so hard to change things, to create a better world for jujutsu sorcerers.
ah, focus.
"hey," naoki suddenly said, pulling you out of your thoughts. his gaze was sharper now, more intense. and over his shouder, you caught the faintest blur of white hair in the background, gojo's movements.
but it was hard to focus on anything but naoki sato's face — the sharp lines softened by his proximity, the warmth in his dark eyes that you didn’t want to admit was almost magnetic.
he was a man marked for execution, and the warrant must have been burning a hole through your suite on the highest floor.
yet here he was, looking at you like you were something worth risking everything for.
and suddenly, you weren’t sure you wanted to see autumn's locks matted with rusted blood. to see eyes go dull and lifeless.
you felt like you had the moral spine of a sponge.
"can i kiss you?"
the question hit like a punch to the gut. your lips parted, but no sound came out. and suddenly, the steps in the background stopped too.
naoki's hand came up to your jaw, his touch unexpectedly reverent, and all you could think was: distraction. right. distract him for gojo. what the fuck is taking him so long?
so you closed the distance.
naoki's lips captured yours with a softness that disarmed you, but the kiss was anything but tentative, and you could taste a sweet tang like lemons and sugar. but you let his large hands pull you closer and his touch was warm and intoxicating.
the kind that made you forget, just for a moment, that this was all a ruse.
his lips moved against yours with a heat that made everything else fade to black, and his hands slid down your waist and back, tracing lines that felt dangerously real.
when you finally pulled away for air, your lips tingled, and your breath came in short bursts. you couldn’t help yourself — you reached up, your fingers brushing against his now-flushed lips, glossy under your touch, and you hated the way your stomach twisted from the way naoki sato melted under your touch.
focus, again.
you hoped, prayed, that gojo was doing his part, taking advantage of the way you had naoki sato, one of the most dangerous men in the entire world, wrapped around your finger, and bruising his tongue into your mouth.
but your gaze flicked upwards, past his shoulder and collided with something that stopped your heart cold.
electric blue. devastatingly vibrant, crackling with a fury that hit the air like a thunderstorm.
gojo's eyes pinned you in place, shadows pooling in sharp cerulean, from shades that had slipped just a touch down his nose. no mask to shield whatever expression gojo had clearly painted across his face.
hurt? anger? what the fuck, was that betrayal?
your throat tightened, and you resisted the urge to dig your nails into naoki's tailored jacket, to hiss at gojo to get a move on. to stop standing there like he had been hit with a shovel.
but the words didn't quite form, didn't pull at the corners of your mouth to silently shape them. his expression just held you captive, no. shamed you.
and that made you angrier. he had no right to look at you like that, like you had just crossed a line that you didn't even know was there.
but under you, naoki shifted, tilted your chip up to meet his lips again, and you let him. you...wanted him to. but the heat of his lips didn't drown out the chill of gojo's stare. your own body betrayed you with a shiver, one that you couldn't quite place yourself.
nerves, or desire.
the kiss was firmer this time, insistent, as if naoki sato was staking his claim in front of an invisible audience. his hand cupped the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw with maddening ease, over the pulse of your neck.
and for a second, it was too easy to fall into the lie. but you felt it: the searing weight of gojo's glower burning into you, not far away.
naoki pulled back just slightly, his breath fanning your lips, "hey, you're distracted," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his eyes scanning your face as though he wanted to read every thought. "should i be offended?"
"no," you said quickly, almost too quickly, "just a lot to take in."
naoki smiles, all coy and glazed lips, clearly pleased by what he thought was pure flattery, and not the glowering six-eyes shining behind him. "good. i think 'm gonna like leaving you speechless."
part of you knows that you just aren't seeing those pearly gates of heaven.
you know there's going to be a bouncer at the doors, with your face printed on a photo titled: dni! fraud! liar! the world's most incompetent jujutsu sorcerer! would bounce into a criminal's bed at first chance!
naoki's warm thumb lingers against your jaw, and your breath hitches just enough for the sorcerer to notice. you don't miss how his eyes darken, a hint of triumph gleaming in them.
you risked a glance past his shoulder again, and gojo was still there, stony-faced as naoki's own guards. but there's something else broiling in his eyes, rolling over his face like a thunderstorm cracks over a grassy plain. the fury in his eyes hadn't lessened, but now it was laced with something sharper, something that you can finally read.
jealousy. absolute glass-shattering, world-stopping levels of envy paint over gojo satoru's face.
the realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.
was he jealous of naoki sato? of you? of this entire charade that you both had agreed to? or rather, the one you had roped him into.
the idea shouldn’t have thrilled you, but it did. and it terrified you just as much.
you let naoki kiss you again, forcing yourself to deepen it this time, your hands coming up to rest against his hard chest. you don't miss how he suddenly parts from your lips, panting softly into your mouth, and suddenly you're hit with the most awful wave of longing for a man who cannot have.
naoki’s large hands, however, weren’t idle. one brushed the edge of your dress, under the shoulder strap of your powder-blue gown, his thumb grazing against the fabric, and your breath hitched.
you shift, your breath stuttering as naoki's other hand slides higher, his fingers brushing against the flesh of your thigh, pushing your dress higher, and his hand brushes against the silver details on the side, scratching your skin. it's maddening how cool air meets the heat of your now exposed skin, and naoki's mouth crushes against yours, as if he's equally savouring the taste of you.
"t-there are people here," you gasp, your voice a fractured whisper, trembling at the edge of composure, "what if they can see or watch?"
gojo satoru is here. gojo is watching. you know your partner is close enough to hear every breathless sound you make, every treasonous whine that slips past your lips.
but naoki sato's mouth is curved into a plush, wicked smile, "let them look," and his teeth are grazing against the curve enough in a way that makes you arch your back into him, he who is now leaning over you, as if he's the one trying to capture you, "who cares - hah?"
any reasonable thought of your duty. of honour, of a mission flees from your head.
the sight of gojo's softly parted mouth and darkened eyes as he watches you in another man's arms spurs you on, and you let naoki sato press his lips against the hollow of his throat.
naoki's long fingers are blazing as they reach the very apex of your thighs. as they press two rough pads into the sopping slick that's gathered in your panties, as they run themselves along dampened fabric in a way that has you openly keening.
"can i?" and your eyes meet the mahogany gaze of the man above you. it's electrifying. you should be ashamed, furious at how you're just being taken like this, on display. but this is a room of the seven deadly sins, where each corner of the room is a lesson in hedonism, and obscene wealth.
"please."
but your eyes are only on gojo satoru behind him. on how he catches the pale-pink of his bottom lip between his teeth, and his face is seething. how his darkened eyes drop to naoki's hand working its way between your legs, and you wantonly roll your hips up to meet him there.
you let writhing fingers slip under the waistband of your pale-blue underwear, dipping into glossy, thick arousal. but you also don't miss the tent in gojo satoru's grey slacks, only metres away, and the frenzied look making him look pained.
you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy moaning openly, spreading your legs just a bit wider, so gojo could get a glimpse of your drooling cunt.
"fuck, 's good. so good, naoki."
a finger travels up, away from your winking entrance to press a soft flick against your throbbing clit, "yeah?"
and the beautiful man in between your legs all but purrs. pleased beyond measure at how you've apparently been captured, heart and soul by him. and your attention snaps back to how he suddenly draws his fingers off your soaked cunt, and brings them up to his mouth.
"sweetest thing i've ever tasted, i think 'm gonna have -"
and then, it hit you.
a hot, sticky spray of liquid.
the scent of iron slammed into your senses as fresh blood splattered across your face, your chest, and stained the delicate blue of your dress into a deep and damning red. it clung to your skin, to your lips as you pressed your mouth shut, fighting the bile rising in your throat.
reversal: red crackled in the air, cursed energy humming sharp, and it had sliced through the hall like a whip. naoki's arm had been torn from your waist, wrenched away as he staggered back with a guttural hiss, and you avert your eyes from the blood that paints the space between you.
"that's enough."
gojo satoru's voice is like a thunderclap, reverberating around your ears, and when you finally meet his gaze, you're met with unbridled fury. you're not sure where his shades have gone, but you're met with the full weight of six-eyes, blazing and unrelenting.
naoki stumbles ahead of you, clutching his shoulder where blood seeps through his fingers, torn between shock and raw rage. his cherry-lips are curled back into a snarl, flush with indignation.
"hah, you're a sorcerer?," and naoki sato's voice drips with venom, heavy with disbelief.
you're not quite sure gojo satoru needs to answer. not when his presence alone sends waves of cold through the hall, cutting the air precisely, cleaving it.
but there's a man running towards the commotion, a guard encumbered by a hefty black suit, and there's a cold shock that runs through you as your eyes fall on the gun at his side.
"we think that's gojo satoru," the guard wheezes, breathless.
"you're telling me this now? i gave you fuckwits one job," naoki snarls, shaking the man, with his nails dug into the guard's shoulder.
and you're quickly pushing your dress down, letting the fabric spill over your legs once more, fighting back the hot sparks that sting at your eyes.
it's enough to snap naoki's attention back to you. and for a moment, for the briefest of moment, he wasn't the hardened criminal you had been playing this dangerous game with. a boy your age, wild and beautiful, and utterly undone.
and it heaves your stomach at how the fury in his gaze trembles slightly, just enough to reveal betrayal underneath that strikes you harder than any limitless could.and it struck you harder than any whip of magic ever could.
"i must be stupid, fuck," naoki's voice cracks as he spits the words, his expression twisted with something raw, something painfully human, "you’re a jujutsu sorcerer too, aren't you?"
the accusation was a dagger, his voice trembling with disbelief but its wholly true, and your head wavers in a half-shake, half-nod.
"you’re with him, aren't you? just another one of the higher up's lapdogs?"
the words weren’t a question — they were a condemnation.
naoki's lips are curled, and his bloodied arm is now trembling but steady, defiance burning through the pain.
and a whisper in your mind tells you to smash the glass case holding the amulet, to push through it with your bare hands, just so you can bleed alongside him.
but naoki sato's bitter scoff shatters that thought, and his gaze must have followed yours, sharp and knowing, for his hand has moved faster, pulling the gun from the guard's holster.
the blast came before you could even think, loud and jarring.
but you never saw the bullet's path, only gojo.
gojo, whose arm has snapped in front of you like a barrier, impossibly fast, and well within the bounds of his infinity. as if he had tore through space itself.
the bullet collides with infinity, ricocheting into the chaos of the panicking crowd.
naoki’s gaze didn’t waver. it slices back to gojo, sharp, calculating, and darkly amused. he must have seen it now, everything.
the truth was etched in the way gojo had positioned himself, the way his blazing blue eyes never left you, the unspoken claim humming in the air like a second heartbeat.
naoki sato's laugh is lower, bitter, and you watch the mesmerising plink! of crimson on the floor.
"he's protecting you, isn’t he?" his voice dripped with venom, each word striking like a dagger, "how sweet.”
and just like that, something broke. gojo's restraint, most likely.
you can see how his fingers are flexing, his hands lifting and cursed energy is coiling at his fingertips. his thumb and index finger brush, a telltale sign of an impending blast. hollow purple.
you clench your eyes shut, bracing for the devastation of the impact —
but naoki sato was faster.
his arms snapped outward, a surge of his own jujutsu ripping through the space between you. the bodyguards around you crumpled like ragdolls, their bodies bursting under the pressure. blood sprayed in thick, sticky waves, painting the walls, the floor — against the edges of infinity.
you opened your eyes in time to see gojo falter, his hands trembling as he stared at the carnage. even he, the unflinching sorcerer, the strongest, looked shaken by the sheer brutality of what cursed technique: enhance was capable of.
and in the heartbeat of his hesitation, naoki was gone.
"fuck's sake! s-satoru! let go of me!" you snap, voice cracking with fury as you fight against gojo's tight grasp.
his vivid focus shoots back to you, his expression a storm of anger and disbelief, "what?" and gojo's voice is razer-sharp, "if you think i'm letting you go after that stunt you pulled -"
"shut up!" and you can feel your own desperation cut through the air, "you go after him, i'll go after the amulet."
you toss your head to the shattered glass and the chaos erupting all around you, "if that thing gets lost in the mess, we've done this all for nothing!"
gojo's jaw is clenched, his mouth pressed into a hard and furious line. for a moment, you think he's going to argue with you again, but then you're dropped unceremoniously to the ground.
pain shoots through your knees as you land, but you're soon hauling yourself up.
"go!" you hiss, shoving at his shoulder, "i'll come find you when i have it."
gojo hesitates for a fraction of a second longer, then he's gone — a blur of movement faster than your eyes could track, leaving you alone in the chaos.
your hands tremble as you grab a heavy steel bar from the wreckage, swinging it with all your strength at the glass case. the sound of shattering glass barely registers as you reach inside, your fingers curling around the cold, smooth surface of the amulet.
wild shocks run through you, and you almost keel over, feeling the rush and pulse of such a cursed object against your skin. but it's safe. you have it now.
with it clutched tightly in your hand, you turned and run.
by now, you can't find it within yourself to stop the hot tears from running down your cheeks, streaming freely as you tear through the blood-soaked scene.
you run, the air sharp and cold against your skin, your heartbeat an unrelenting drum in your ears. the thump! making your head pound.
you can follow the residuals of gojo's cursed energy, lingering like a sickly beacon, drawing you back to the dull parking lot. you pushed open the doors with both hands, red smudging onto the concrete as you ignored the sting of your palms
and then you saw it. saw it all.
the scene hits you like a wrecking ball, knocking the breath clean from your lungs.
a body lies crumpled on the ground, its lifelessness more harrowing than the carnage that surrounds it. blood, thick and sticky, smears across the concrete. massive pillars, toppled like a child's toys in the wake of a clear explosion.
your gaze snags on a limp hand sprawled on the floor, and you feel your stomach twist. instinctively, your tongue slides against the back of your teeth, and the metallic tang of iron is already sleeping into your senses.
and then, there was gojo satoru.
he stands amid the wreckage, like a figure carved from shadows, and ice. and fury. his chest softly rises and falls, as though he had been running for miles, his hair disheveled and darkened with sweat.
the sight of him might have almost been human, almost comforting. if not for the gore streaked across his hands, and the thing he drops onto the concrete with a hollow thud.
you don't look at it. you don't think you can. your stomach knows the truth before your mind catches up, bile heaving within you once more.
the head of naoki sato. he would never have stood a chance against the strongest sorcerer in modern history.
final task: retrieve artefact. execute naoki sato on site. alternatively, bring in for execution.
you mind flashes back to that dastardly pink sticky note, still stuck to the case file.
what did you feel now? anger? sadness?
maybe both. maybe neither.
the blood pooling in front of gojo is already congealing, its sickly shine dimming in the cold, fluorescent light of the lot.
you were tired of seeing blood, of tasting it on your tongue, of breathing it in like the very air you needed to survive.
you’d thought there would be relief in the end. but instead, disappointment had rooted itself deep inside you, twisting itself.
naoki sato, for all his crimes and cruetly, had been...something. somewhere beneath the sly smirks and sharp words, there had been glimpses of something that almost looked like hope. he had said he wanted better — for everyone. for you. was it a lie? or had you twisted his words into something more comforting than the truth, desparate to see light where there was none?
your throat burns, but no tears come. just a hollow ache that matches the cold weight of raijin's amulet in your hand. you looked at it now, the thing you’d fought so hard to win, its edges biting into your skin, the dragon leaving its mark.
gojo's voice cut through the silence, low and ragged, and tired, "don’t look."
you hadn’t even realised you were staring, your eyes hovering dangerously close to the lifeless hand on the ground.
"i'm sorry," he had continued, his tone strangely neutral, as if apologising for a cracked glass rather than the irrevocable violence around him, that seemed to trail after him, "i had to do it."
you laughed then, short and bitter, the sound cracking like a whip against the cold air. "had to, gojo?" your voice trembled, not with fear, but something darker. something far more raw.
his gaze had snapped to you, and there it was — the thing that always churned between you two. a storm of emotions, tangled so tightly you could no longer tell where hate ended and yearning began.
"you think this is the resolution i wanted?" gojo shot back, his voice laced with something too jagged to be regret. "you think i enjoyed that?"
and in the most twisted, perverse theatre of your mind's eye, you see gojo's open-mouthed stare, focused on how another man touched you, made you his.
"i don’t know what you enjoy anymore," you take a step closer, your grip tightening on amulet until your knuckles whitened. but the air pushed from your lungs, "but - god, gojo. forget it. i-i don't even know. 'm sorry, too."
gojo sighs, and you see the exhaustion hanging over him too, "we'll go back tomorrow morning."
the walk back to your room is…suffocating. the air is thick with everything that you just cannot say, words that you can't even bring your heavy tongue to shape.
gojo is beind you, and you can feel the weight of his presence pressing between your shoulder blades, but you just can't turn around. you don't dare to. raijin's amulet is still clenched in your hand, and its edges are cutting into your palm, a form of self-flagellation you suppose.
you push the door open, and your breath catches and hitches as you slip inside, slamming it shut after he follows. locking it with shaking hands.
in the suite, the moonlight now slices through the half-drawn curtains, as the tokyo skyline glimmers underneath you. it's painting silver lines across gojo's spectral frame, and he strides to the amenities sink, a smaller outlet near the door.
you watch, as though you're holding a sacred vigil.
your gaze doesn't leave gojo's figure as he throws his jacket off his sharp torso with a disgusted sigh, leaving him in his black dress shirt and a loosened tie.
still watching as his movements are tense, restless as he cups water from the faucet in his hands, splashing it onto his face.
when he finally looks up, gojo's white is hair dripping, his tie slightly askew, and his tired eyes catch yours like a snare.
for a moment, you’re frozen. neither of you say a word. the air feels too thin to breathe, and his gaze is too much — too piercing, too relentless, too him.
you can’t take it.
with a sharp motion, you slam the amulet onto the table, the sound echoing through the quiet room. you spin on your heel and lock yourself in the bathroom, shutting him out.
inside, the luxurious space feels surreal. marble floors gleam under the soft glow of recessed lighting, gold fixtures glinting and stinging your eyes. it smells faintly of jasmine and mint, too perfect for the mess you're about to create.
you grip the edge of the sink as the first sob wrenches its way out of your chest, hot and raw.
tears spill over, cascading down your cheeks in waves you can’t control. they come faster, harder, until you’re gasping, choking on gulps of air that burn in your throat.
you sink onto the cool floor tiles, your knees pulled to your chest as the sobs wrack your body. the weight of everything, what you did, gojo's eyes gleaming, naoki sato's hands on you, the smell of blood, it all crashes over you like a tidal wave. it’s too much for a human heart to bear in one night.
but your hands are shaking as you reach for the hem of your once beautiful dress, peeling it off with clumsy, desperate motions. the air is cool against your skin, you who is now left in undergarments.
and you stare blankly at the blood that smears your arms and legs, before grabbing a small towel, dampening it under the sink and wiping crimson stains away.
small cuts sting on your skin, faint patches where glass struck you, and you hiss.
a knock rattles the bathroom door, sharp and unrelenting, dragging you back to reality.
you close your eyes and exhale through gritted teeth, your voice brittle, "not now, gojo."
silence follows, stretching out long enough to offer the illusion of peace. but then it breaks. another knock, louder, more insistent this time.
"satoru, i swear to god," you snap, your exhaustion fraying into something sharp, laced with more venom now.
there’s a sigh from the other side, audible even through the thick wood, "don't make me blast this door down."
you groan, rolling your eyes as you toss the bloodied towel onto the counter, "you wouldn't dare."
"try me. just open the door, would'you?"
you don’t have the energy to argue, and something in his tone tells you that gojo isn’t bluffing. and so you dragged yourself upright, swinging the door open with more force than necessary.
gojo stands there, with damp hair still clinging to his forehead, beads of water trailing down his templates. and his sleeves are rolled up now, revealing thick forearms flecked with rust and crimson. it wouldn't be his. no, gojo hasn't bled in over a decade.
you straighten, aware of your own state right now. in your undergarments, only shielding you from being entirely bare under his gaze. but the only clothes in this room with you are now crumpled on the floor, in a heap of ice-blue and dark red.
let him look. he's seen more than enough now.
and so you lean back against the sink, crossing your arms as your eyes meet blue, "what do you want?"
gojo hesitates, his jaw tightening as he braces himself. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough around the edges, "just...asking if you're alright."
the laugh that escapes you is sharp and hollow, devoid of any humour, "why wouldn't i be?"
gojo's faze flickers, his expression unreadable, but his eyes linger a moment too long. you let him trace the dried blood smeared across your collarbone, the faint scratches on your skin.
"after all of that tonight..." he starts, but the words hang in the air between the two of you, unfinished. his voice suddenly falters, and you're struck by how gojo's razor-sharp confidence has dulled into something weaker, more conflicted.
you know exactly what he means. the stunt he's referring to, in his own earlier words. you wonder what exactly is eating at him now. is it honest concern, pride? residual envy?
"please, trust me. i'm fine, we managed to do what was asked of us, anyway," you clip curtly, hoping your tone is final enough.
gojo looks at you like he doesn't believe a single syllable that slips from your bitten lips, but then his shoulders sag and he exhales sharply, "fine," he mutters, turning on his heel as if he's the one that can't stand to be near you any longer.
"wait."
the word slips out before you can stop it, and gojo pauses, and his eyes are narrowed with suspicion.
you swallow hard, suddenly unsure of yourself, and lift a clean towel from the counter, helping yourself to another one of the hotel's free amenities, "can you help me with this?"
an olive branch.
you gesture with a single finger, over dried blood that has streaked over your back, your neck. the hollow of your collarbone.
you can see the refusal dancing on his tongue, the hesitation in the way his throat bobs, and how gojo's eyes flicker over you once more.
but he doesn't refuse. gojo just wordlessly steps forward, taking the towel from your outstretched hand. you watch, silently, as he moves to the sink and runs it under cold water. you're sitting on the edge of the counter now so you face him, watching the warm golden glow of the overhead lights in his pale hair.
the porcelain is cold against your thighs as you angle yourself away from the mirror, facing gojo. the towel in his hand drips faintly, and you watch as he hesitates again, just for a fraction of a second before stepping closer.
at first, his movements are slow and careful. he's raising the towel, and his hand is steady as you feel the first touch of the cool fabric against your back. a shiver practically races down your spine, not from the cold, but from the way his arm snakes behind you, brushing against your bare skin.
it's subtle at first, but you notice it. the hitch in his breath, the faint tremour in his movements.
gojo, who is always so infuriatingly composed, is shaken. you hear it in the sorcerer's uneven exhale that he doesn't quite manage to suppress, the way his fingers press the towel just a little too harshly.
the suite is silent now except for the faint drip of water and the rasp of fabric against your skin. you should say something, anything, but the words don’t come. instead, your gaze fixes on him, his profile illuminated by the warm glow of the bathroom light.
gojo's features are always striking, almost ethereal: the ice-white hair that falls messily against his forehead, the long white lashes that frame those sharp, cerulean-blue eyes. there’s something softened by the warm light, as though the harshness of his presence, of a man who stands above heaven and earth, has been dulled just enough to make him seem almost...human again.
but you feel as though your heart must just give way, pounding so hard that it may burst. where the blood that fell from another man's veins had somehow drawn a line to gojo satoru instead.
an hour ago, you had been arched into another, naoki sato, one who had been a dead man walking. an hour ago, his hands were on you, his lips hot and insistent, and his eyes were warm, and now he’s gone. dead. gojo made sure of that. and that was always meant to happen.
the thought should make you furious. it should make you push gojo away, but instead, all you can do is sit there, feeling his hands —gentle now, impossibly careful, on your skin.
it's wrong. it's so deeply, fundamentally wrong, and yet the space another man left feels like it was carved out for gojo satoru all along.
gojo's touch slows as he runs the towel over your skin, tracing the line of your collarbone with a precision that feels almost tender. your eyes slip closed for a moment, the warmth of his hand lingering even as the cold water wipes away the blood.
then he moves again.
it happens fast enough that you barely register it. one second, gojo satoru is standing tall and focused on the task, and the next...he's leaning down. his breath ghosting over the hollow of your neck.
you feel your entire world tilt as his lips press softly against the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, a touch so light that it feels stolen.
but now you've frozen, every breath catching as though the air was snatched from your lungs. every nerve feels as though it's on fire, hyper-aware of how soft the brush of his lips was, the faint scrape of his teeth just shy of your skin.
how gojo's lips were almost reverent, like a prayer offered in silence. how he was worshipping something he couldn't ever have.
but your eyes snap open to meet his.
gojos's cerulean eyes are molten, the usual ice cracked and melting into something deep and desperate and all-consuming. they bore into yours, wild and unguraded, and the pale lashes framing them tremble lighting as though even he's unsure of what he's just done.
but gojo's pupils are also blown wide, and electric. like a storm trapped in glass.
you swallow hard, your pulse thundering in your throat. slowly, cautiously, you dip your head, just enough to give him permission without saying a word.
the look in his eyes shifts — hunger, disbelief, and something darker all tangled together. he presses his lips to your neck again, firmer this time, lingering as though committing the feel of your skin to memory. then again, slightly higher, his breath hot and uneven against you.
"satoru…" the name slips from your lips in a whisper, trembling and unbidden.
the warmth of his tongue catches you off guard, tracing the curve of your neck in a way that sends a jolt through your entire body, heat down to your thighs. it's...unhinged, but the part of you that should push him away is nowhere to be found.
gojo pulls back just enough for you to see the faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remain dark, intense, and burning with something that feels too big for the room.
"another man got to taste you," he whispers, "now i've tasted him."
you almost laugh, sharp and bitter. the sound lodging in your throat. the absurdity of it all, the jealously lacing his words like a poison vine, the way his breath still fans against your skin.
"that's insane," you manage, your voice shaking. it does little to stop the searing heat curling low in your stomach.
for a second, gojo's breath is still hot against your neck. and then suddenly, his hands are on you.
and fuck, it's not delicate at all. there's a roughness to his touch, desparate and unrestrained, as though something inside him as finally snapped.
his palms trace along your bare shoulders, sliding down to your arms, and then to your waist. his fingers press into your skin with a heat that makes you feel like you're burning from the inside out. you don't even realise when you had opened your mouth slightly, panting as if you're trying to pull more air in.
"gojo," you manage, barely audible, and you're acutely aware of the low tense ache beginning to throb in your groin.
his hands slow for a moment, resting on your sides as if he’s trying to ground himself, or stop himself. and gojo's eyes find yours again, and they’re ablaze.
"can i keep going?"
you wonder just how you've managed to unravel this man, to leave his voice hanging by a thread in the air.
you don’t answer right away, your head swimming with confusion, slick desire, and something dangerously close to surrender. gojo satoru is watching you so intently it’s like he’s searching for every unspoken answer written on your skin.
finally, you shift — subtle, but enough. your knees part slightly, just enough for him to step between your bare thighs.
"what do you want me to do?"
you're aware of the insistent, rhythmic pulsing under your panties. of how every small shift of gojo's body against yours amplifies the soft arousal forming, as your heart pounds faster.
and so you let your fingers hook onto the pale waistband of your underwear, and you watch as his gaze follows your movements.
"i want you to touch me, there. please."
you hear the white-haired man breathe out a thankful, reverent fuck before he's following the path of your own hands, hooking a slender finger into your waistband and pulling your underwear down, and off.
and you're so painfully aware of your own arousal right now, the wet that is pooling beneath you. it feels like a relief, parting your legs so your searing heat meets cool air.
"that's perfect, look at t-that," and you're suddenly whining as gojo's fingertips begin grazing sloppy folds, raking themselves over your fluttering entrance, "she's practically been beggin' for my touch all this time, hah!"
"you - ohh, gojo!" you moan, feeling awfully faint from the rippling warmth making your cunt tighten around him, each pshh! echoing in your burning ears, "y-you wish!"
gojo's laugh is a little crazed, undone as he rolls his fingers in practiced curls, at an inhuman pace. bullying his fingers into your opening, as he rasps, "yeah, i w-wish. 'm wishing for this all the time. you never knew, huh?"
"f-fuck, if i had known it felt like this, would've stuck my fingers in h-her a long time ago," gojo unfurls his fingers that only just separated from your winking pussy, and you can only watch.
equally mesmerised as his slender fingers are coated in strands of your slick, clinging to the curves of his short nails and coating them in a mirror sheen.
"have some c-class, gojo! you've lost your fuckin' mind -"
smack!
the dewy pads of his fingers have come down in a harsh arc, slapping right at your throbbing clit, and the jolt sends such an incredible crack of lightning down your spine that you're bucking your hips back up into his hand, back for more.
"some class? hah, 'm not able to do that now, baby," and you can feel gojo shudder under your touch, as you paw at the linen of his black dress shirt, raking your nails over his pectorals, "not when it f-feels like your pussy is about to, fuck, vacuum my fingers off."
"i swear to god, gojo. never say that corny shit a-again."
but it's hard to convey any sense of righteous fury like this. not when he's back to pushing the tapered ends of his long fingers in and out of your tight heat. each brush from the pads of his fingertips leaves you squealing, tugging at the snowy strands on the back of his head.
but gojo's teeth are sharp as they sink into the damp skin of your neck with an almost reverent press, easily snapping through the delicate flesh.
and you're squealing, shocked at how fucking bold gojo satoru has become, whining at how a sharp hiss pulses through you, and you can feel the warmth of blood beginning to bloom and pool over your collarbone.
"shit, 'm sorry, baby. so sorry. but i'm gonna need to see you l-like this," and suddenly gojo snaps away the pussydrunk babble falling from his candied mouth, and he's pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, and the air becomes hazy with the scent of an insanely expensive cologne, cedar and something...sweet, like cardamom.
still, there's hardly time to dissect that.
not when his thick arm is around your waist, handling you until you're smack bang between his legs, right between dark slacks. and gojo has shifted, so your back is flat against the hard planes of his chest, and your knuckles can only grip at the vanity sink. so your eyes can only see your naked torso twisting in the mirror.
"keep your eyes h-here, sweets. on us."
and god, that's exactly where your eyes are. falling on a tense forearm around your waist, as the other works its fierce way through the clamping, gummy walls of your leaking cunt. and you're shuddering underneath him, feeling each brush of his fingers in you.
"w-we make a pretty sight, don't we, yeah?" and the words are spilling from gojo's lips with a certain smugness, but it's rough around the edges, strained. and you just can't look away from how utterly ruined he looks, from touching you.
you watch the glossed shine of your trickling pussy twinkle in the warm lights, as gojo pushes your thighs open wider. his frame leans over yours, taut and straining. and his lips are flushed and parted, betraying the deep ache of his breath.
"go onnn, say it. c'mon," and now gojo's whining in your ear, letting his hand push further into the mess as your pussy is practically weeping onto his fingertips, "won't let you c-cum if you don't say it."
your chest heaves with each desperate, gulping breath. and you can see gojo's vision narrow on how your tits threaten to spill out from their confines, the swell of your chest rising as you try to draw air through your close orgasmic daze. where the edges of your vision blur, and your heart is pounding erratically, "ahhh, gojo! 'm gonna, i think 'm gonna, oh my god!"
but there's more, you want so much more.
and against better thought, you push and elbow back into gojo's chest, heaving as he flicks his thumb over your aching clit.
"hah, what is it now? fuck was that for?" and the man is scowling at you, seemingly irritated that you drew him away from the hypnotic pull of your pulsing walls.
you swivel, away from the mirror so you're facing him. and your eyes fall on the heavy, pitched tent in gojo's grey slacks, one that must be aching and awfully painful from the way he's running his pink tongue over his bruised mouth.
"wan' more, gojo. on the bed."
you've reached up behind your back, unhooking the clip that was holding your bra together. it falls, and you toss it into the pile where gojo had flung your clingy panties, over your gorgeous dress.
and you think gojo satoru might have just had a minor heart attack.
his expression has shifted, lips parted as he takes in your naked form. you think you hear his breath hitch, as his eyes roam over you, unblinking. you're certain that the mildly brighter light in the room has nothing to do with what's overhead, rather the bright blue of gojo's six eyes.
you snicker at his dumbstruck expression, letting your hand curl around his wrist — marvelling at how he almost whines at the sight of you pushing him out of the bathroom suite, and onto that glorious bed that the two of you had argued over earlier in the day.
"n-not so opposed to sharing a bed with me now, sweets? oh, fuck," you don't let him get any more words out, since you're reaching for the sleek leather belt threading through the loops of his slacks, pawing at them so you can finally undress him. have him as bare as you are now.
something in your desparate touch must have made gojo snap, because now he's shuffling the two of you around, so you're practically splayed out under his warm, large hands. thighs spread, parted so your dripping cunt is displayed to the room, as he scoots closer. his knees pressing against the carpet.
"hnnghh, f-fuck, look at her. practically cryin' on me."
and what a sight. gojo satoru, the most powerful man to walk this earth in centuries is slumped beneath your thighs, close enough to your clit that when he breathes, he knocks his nose right over the sensitive bud, coating his face in that syrupy glaze.
and then its slow, painful. how his long tongue descends onto your weeping pussy, writhing flat in wide, broad strokes that leave you whining out his name.
you spread your legs even wider, fighting against gojo's tight grip on the flesh of your thighs. the thighs that are trembling as he brings his teeth up to graze your clit, and your arousal drips from his lips. making candied pink lips look like they've been glazed and dipped in sugar.
briefly, in the back of your mind, you wonder how you're going to continue to function tomorrow. how you're going to even be able to walk after gojo satoru has rendered you boneless.
you also wonder if there's a cosmic deity out there, looking at an invisible and heavenly camera with a dull look on their face. something like what can you do?
"mmhph, y'know i l-like this a lot better than that drink from earlier," and he's cooing at how you squeal and moan, "hah, what was that s-shit called? a cream soda."
you pull at the white strands of his hair, yanking gojo's head back from where his tongue had been lolling around your clit, ignoring his whine, "if y-you make a stupid, fuckin' joke about creaming, i'm g-gonna leave."
gojo rolls his eyes, but this time? this time, there's no malice in it, no irritation. his expression is almost fond, if not shadowed by the enormity of his own lust, "leaving before the main event is dumb choice, sweets."
"tch! get to i-it then, oh! what the fuck, gojo!"
he's found the right place to prod, to roll his fingers over the hood of your clit, occasionally propping his mouth down to suck at it lightly. your mouth is clamped shut, so you don't release an absurd amount of babble, wordless and airless about how good he's devouring you.
"hah," gojo huffs, pressing three flat fingers against your entrance, letting them curl into your walls, enough to tease you, "i can feel her beating for me. 's pulsing all over."
"c-can't you jus' make me cum?" your hands are desparate for some friction, running past your perked tits, down to his hair again. now clamping your thighs around his head, and the soft, snowy hair of his head tickles at your skin.
"can' believe you're talking shit when i'm e-eating you out," gojo chuckles, but you're just too mesmerised by the glint of your slick lighting a beacon over the lower half of his face, strands of slick as he pulls away from your pussy, "y'not that patient, huh?"
he's practically attached to your clit now, kissing it with a tender and yet firm press of his lips, seemingly aware of just how sensitive you are to that type of pressure.
you whimper and mewl as gojo's head disappeared back between your legs, deeper and lower as his tongue pushes into your pussy, flicking shallow thrusts that makes you breathe out gasps of his name.
"now i think 'm gonna cum, so close, satoru," with your hand firmly lodged in his platinum strands, you're rocking your hips messily, sloppily against his awaiting mouth.
"y-yeah? go on, sweets," he's moaning now too, and you don't miss how the edge of the bed rocks just a bit from him grinding the frame for some release on his own erection.
your orgasm makes your mind foggy, and you practically quake in gojo's large, warm hands. with a sharp cry of his name, followed by an endless chant of praise for the unearthly man between your legs, lapping at you as though you are his last drink, his last meal on this earth before he ascends elsewhere.
the hard streaks of white shoot through your vision, even as you come down from the incredible high, and you realise gojo has not stopped.
gojo's jaw is still locked as your slick dribbles down your folds, into his open mouth and onto his waiting tongue. the extra stimulation makes you deliriously cry out, "fuck, s-satoru! 's too much, holy fuck!"
you were still shaking, and a second orgam blurred your sight into an incredible spectrum of colours, white hot starlight and streaks of blue. that cascade of vivid tints flood your vision, each one jerking your hips and cunt forward until you felt your legs give way.
until gojo finally separated himself from your thighs, satisfied at how he had pulled two climaxes from you.
he's absolutely lost it, lost in that daze of being pussywhipped, and his eyes gleam with a feverish intensity. and when he crashes pink, glossy lips down on your mouth, you can feel him shake under your touch.
you moan, loud, as he nips at your lower lip. at how you can taste yourself on his tongue, syrup strands falling into your mouth as gojo suddenly twitches.
"i think 'm gonna have to be in you right now, otherwise i'll literally fuckin' die."
a breathy laugh falls from your lips as your partner pulls himself up, heavy limbs finally extracting themselves away from your naked body, reaching up to hook his fingers over the black crinkle of his rumpled dress shirt, pulling the fabric off.
leaving your mouth dry.
the moonlight spills over gojo's torso, and you track your eyes over his broad chest, rising and falling and flushed from his own arousal.
you follow the faint dusting of pale white hair as it disappeared past the waistband of his slacks that he's quickly making short work of, and you feel your pussy clench thinking about how badly you need to jump gojo satoru's bones.
but you're too transfixed by him, by the sculpted figure of a supposedly cold and arrogant bastard you've spent months and years rolling your eyes at.
he's real. all hot flesh and blood, and stunning. not that sneering, and infuriating man who's always one step ahead, always one callous word away from making your blood boil.
for a different heat has settled in you now, as your eyes fall on his throbbing cock that has sprung forth, up over his stomach. the tip is an angry, and furious berry-pink and you wonder just how you're going to make these inches fit.
"hah, didn’t think you'd be this shy, you know,” he says, voice a low, husky tease, as if he’s been watching your struggle. gojo's eyes glint with amusement, but there’s something deeper beneath it, something that you hope with lead him to take mercy on you.
"n-no. no," you repeat yourself more firmly, but it's far too breathless to be convincing, "no, 'm not shy."
but it's hard to form coherent thoughts when gojo satoru is towering over you, and his absurdly long and girthy shaft is twitching in between your slick folds.
"fuck you, s-satoru," you're whimpering, feeling the pulsing, rounded head of his flushed tip brush past your sensitive, drooling slit, "taking too long. jus' put it in already."
"mhmm, sweets," and gojo's bustling at your thighs now, pinching the soft and tender skin in retaliation for your touch undoing him so easily, "she can't even be patient, hah, trus' me. just lay back."
you comply, just this once. just because gojo satoru's cock looks so big, you think you need to gather all your thoughts so you'll be able to form coherent sentences later.
resting your head back on plush sheets, with the skyline twinkling in your peripheral vision as gojo's aligning himself with your cunt. he's gasping in low, shuddering breaths as his tip teases and hooks onto your inner walls.
"look at thaaat, oh! baby, fuck, wasn' even joking before, just sucking me up so fuckin' good!"
you don't reply, just mewling as he pushes inch after veiny inch into your dribbling walls, gasping as his large hands rest on the back of your thighs, pushing them further up so he can slot his torso in between your legs.
"oh my god, satoru! s-satoru, hnnhgh, it's too much — i don' think it's gon' fit," you always thought you would be embarrassed to lose composure like this in front of gojo, but you find yourself panting into the crook of his neck, raking nails down his flushed neck.
he's big, and you can feel every vein of his tapered curve hitting the right spots within you, as you shift your hips, desperate to let his sinuous cock kiss every inch of your pussy lovingly.
"gon' dumb already?" gojo's huffing, but you can see that he's not unaffected. his eyes are glazed over, hazy as he slowly draws his hips back just an inch, before scooting them forward already, "jus' gonna have to make this pussy learn from now on. don' worry, sweets. it'll fit."
the 'from now on' makes something in your pounding heart flutter.
but you have little time to focus on it as he bottoms out in your drenched cunt, as though you're hearing the slosh of your pussy coat him entirely, right up to the wiry, white hairs on his groin.
"hahh, there we go! the w-wonders of a positive attitude, don'tcha think?" and you're left with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, as he begins to pick up the pace. a steady staccato that has you jostling underneath his ministrations.
you let his mouth chase yours, capturing glossy lips with your own bite, letting him pant, and whine and praise the heavens above for how tight you're snatching him right now.
"she's p-perfect, isn't she? t-thought about it so much, y'got no idea, got no c-clue about how much i thought about you under me like this n' how you'd f-feel!"
gojo satoru is absolutely drunk from a nectar that he has tasted once. the same nectar that coats his cock in frothy, filthy rings as he pistons his hips out of your pussy.
"happy for y-you, satoru," and you're letting your nails scratch over the shell of his ear as he twitches and shudders, "but fuck, y'talk too much! jus' focus on fucking me!"
gojo's mouth quirks upwards, that knowing smirk playing on his lips as he looks at you bemused, and so hazy.
"god, a lot of that attitude now, hahh?" and he's drawling the words out, and you don't miss how he shudders when you clench around his shaft, on purpose. he's leaning in closer, barely brushing past your lips, and you wonder briefly for a split-second, gojo satoru might just really love you.
and then, without warning, his hand comes down to your side, just underneath the fat of your tits, pinching lightly at the abdomen. causing you to take a sharp intake of breath, and a dizzy huff of his name.
if you ever believed that gojo satoru was malicious in the workplace, a bane on your sanity, you had not been prepared for how he was stretching you out in all the right places.
that inhumane pace of the strongest had him snapping his hips sharply, over and over until he's hitting the spongy patch, deep within your walls.
"clamped around me like, ohh, like a fuckin' vice," gojo's grunting now, each breath coming out short puffs that match the timing of the slap! each whack of his cock delivers, pressing your hips together and coating his hips in sweet slick.
"mmph, feels so good, satoru!" you squeal, pressing a hand over your mouth so you don't wake up the entire top floor of the hotel, tits jostling with each shuffle and movement.
it's all coming down on you too quick, that electric haze shooting down your spine. made all the worse by gojo groaning and slipping his hand between his jackhammering hips, down to where your clit is practically throbbing for his touch.
he's running tight circles, before pressing the flat of his thumb under the hood of your clit, ripping a raw cry from the back of your throat, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as gojo's lips are leaving blooming marks over your neck.
"satoru, i t-think 'm gonna c-cum again," you moan, fluttering your lashes against your skin, rolling your hips up into gojo's quick fingers and brutal cock. but it feels different this time, nothing like your past two orgasms. you feel something draw its claws further into your groin, like you're going to burst and the breath will be stolen away from your lungs.
you hear gojo say something, snarky but tender as he laughs into your collarbone, as he's slapping his fingers down quickly over your clit, making you jolt. but you don't hear his words as blood roars in your eears, gushing all over his cock with a clear, sticky sheen that coats him deliciously.
makes gojo satoru groan out filthy praises over your marked skin, "didn' know you were that nasty? hahh, squirtin' over me on your first go, yeah? it's gettin' too much for me too, s-sweets. think 'm gonna hafta maaa -"
you have no inkling as to what gojo was aiming to groan out, fluttering his own blue eyes shut as his orgasm catches up to him, pumping you insanely full of thick, stringy seed. practically painting your inner walls a translucent white as you huff and whine.
but in the back of your mind, you think he wanted to marry you. a bridge you'll cross when you get to it.
"fillin' you up, good, aren't i?" and he's lost in a daze, and you watch as his muscles ripple in the light of the moon, pectorals gleaming as he stuffs you further, as if plugging his seed to stay in you, making you squirm from the delicious stimulation.
you should have paid a little more attention to your surroundings. less attention to the thick veins of his cock drilling a home in you. or less attention to how his lips curl up into a sweeter smile as he presses soft, happy kisses to your cheek while you lay exhausted, caged by his thick arms.
then, you might have noticed the lights flicker and then shatter for half the hotel's rooms.
the morning sun peeks through the curtains like an overenthusiastic alarm clock, dragging you out of sleep with its gentle warmth. you stretch lazily, limbs still heavy and sticky from the weight of...the previous night's activities.
the sheets feel ridiculous soft, kudos to the insanely over-priced hotel. and for a second, you entertain the thought of just staying here. forever.
that is, until your eyes fall on raijin's amulet over on the wooden table.
and the fact that gojo is nowhere to be found.
you blink, squinting at the empty space beside you. your first instinct is to check besides the bed, and then under it, for fear that the six-foot three man has simply fallen off.
but your gaze falls on a tiny pink sticky-note on the nightstand. one that you suspect was pilfered from the scattered case file on the couch. you peer at looping cursive, scrawled in a blue marker.
don't eat anything yet! gone to get a proper breakfast!
you can't help the soft huff that leaves you, fond in its escape. you feel this sudden urge to don some proper clothes, to go down and join him in the warm sunlight.
but then you pause. perhaps, you ought not to. it would be fun to let him miss you just a bit. the thought of the gojo satoru standing there, waiting in line for entirely average pancakes is amusement enough for you.
but before you can pull the crisp sheets over your head, your eyes catch a glimpse of something else by the bed. a small, satin-blue box that didn't exist yesterday, in the world of cruel choices and...semi-successful missions.
the memory of yesterday pulls a frown from you, but you shake your head, determined to clear your thoughts.
you reach for it, letting your fingers run over the smooth surface, before tugging at the silver ribbon cautiously. half-expecting to find something weird like gojo's usual idea of a joke like a half-naked framed photo of him with a lipstick print.
ah!
but instead, inside the box lies a thin necklace. you've stared longingly enough at shop windows to know that these are real diamonds. not the cheap kind either, a well-cut carat that makes you gasp to yourself, a flush running over your cheeks.
for a moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched unbearably heavy. but then gojo’s ice-gaze dropped to the necklace scattered over your throat, and he tilted his head, "not too bad," a flicker of a scoff curling at his lips. "tch, they’re not even real," you blurted, then immediately regretted it, what was wrong with you today? you reached up, fingers grazing the cool crystals as if to shield them from his bemused scrutiny, "just thought i needed something to fit in."
you pick it up, feeling the cold weight of it in your hand. what is this, romance? a necklace? gojo satoru doesn’t even do romance. at least, not in the way anyone would expect.
he’s the kind of guy who would absolutely get you diamonds just to throw you off balance. mission accomplished.
you glance at the sticky note again, then back at the necklace. this is way too much for your sleep-addled brain. and yet, there’s this funny little thing inside you, a warm spark that you don’t know what to do with.
fuck, when did he even have the time to get this gorgeous gift?
you’re definitely not soft, but gojo does this thing to you — he has a way of turning your whole world upside down, and now…apparently, he’s gone and done it again.
your cheeks warm, but you don't admit to it. not yet. but there's no denying the softer spot that's growing in you, the urge to have gojo satoru in your arms in this very moment so you can run your hands through soft, white hair to watch him purr. to see his cheeks flush from a sweet blush as his blue eyes flutter shut.
your eyes fall on his crumpled uniform jacket from yesterday, his discarded clothes. perhaps, you could just join him. after all, you feel words threatening to spill from your mouth and you want him to hear them.
a surprise of your own? you think you want to see gojo satoru speechless for once.
do not plagiarise or repost! likes and reblogs appreciated. btw, this jenny packham was the dress i envisioned for reader but imagine whatever you like!
#gojo smut#gojo satoru#gojo satoru smut#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#satoru gojo#gojo x y/n#jjk gojo#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#works#gojo satoru x you#anime smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo satoru x y/n#oh naoki sato you had a short time here on this blog but i think you will be missed i kinda became sad writing about you#this was meant to be short and then we got lost in translation along the way i cant help it i love plot#not proofread yet....i will do that in an hour
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LeafWing Study!
Featuring the colours of Roridula, a character from a possible future project. She's named after a carnivorous plant :)
Details, explanation, and more art below. Otherwise, next week are the SeaWings. See you then!!
More Tribe Studies
Here is the first time I'm showing my full-body headcanon LeafWing design. I remember being disappointed that they didn't have four wings, and when I learned that technically the SilkWings/BeetleWings were the only tribe with four wings?? (The HiveWings got them only for being an offshoot of the BeetleWing tribe, but I still couldn't cope, lol).
I am not up to date on WOF lore so while you can correct me, please keep that in mind XD
I simply had fun designing them after lead-mimicking insects and geckos. I wanted to keep as much of the original design as possible while serving more of a leaf mimicry design. So the four wings work in tandem with the enlarged tail sail to make the whole dragon look like the end of a branch. They would do this formation on specific trees, otherwise they keep all 4 flat along their tail to look like one leaf. They have the extra frills on their legs so they can do a standing version of this if they're caught off-guard.
All of this would serve the purpose of visual camouflage. I read on the wiki that the Poison Jungle had extra large fauna and I ran with it. Perhaps in the past the jungle stretched farther, or the megafauna had access to more of the continent. Either way, the LeafWings had to hide, and they learned how to do it quite well.
The last thing I did was double the back sail and move it to the sides, so it doesn't look like a discount SeaWing. Sorry, but I wanted a more unique silhouette. That back spine design was already used for the SeaWings and I thought a smooth back would serve their camouflage better. They use their double frills to make their necks look thicker when they pretend to be a single leaf. I'll post some sketches of LeafWings camouflaging sometime!
#wings of fire#wof#art#digital art#wof art#my art#wof fanart#fanfic#alate atta's ascension#Pantala AU#leafwing#wof leafwing#oc#oc art#my ocs#wof oc#wof oc art#headcanon#WOF Tribe Studies
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imma be so real with you I did NOT care for all the cutesy ways they presented Vi and Cait's disbalanced social status in arc 3
#first off the parallel of cait arriving to let vi out of prison. but this time they ~have sex~. IN THE CELL THAT WAS UNJUSTLY HOLDING JINX#bitch why are you invoking THAT REALLY FUCKED UP SCENE right before such a milestone romance scene??? it's not cute??? JINX WAS JUST HERE#then the one thing cait tries to apologize for is MADDIE. GIRL. NO ONE CARES ABOUT MADDIE. WE CARE ABOUT HOW YOU KEPT DEMEANING#AND TORTURING ZAUNITES INCLUDING VI. but that isn't addressed bc vi needs to give her head. speaking of vi#VI WHY ARE YOU GIGGLING LIKE A SCHOOLGIRL YOU ARE IN A PRISON CELL. REMEMBER HOW YOU WASTED 7 YEARS OF YOUR LIFE IN ONE#then the way jinx believes vi should be with cait as an alternative to staying with her simply because she is too fucked up while cait make#vi happy. i am sorry but show me where did jinx see cait makes vi happy. then the show just rolls with that and says ''yeah vi should be#forced to leave jinx behind and choose piltover. this is a happy ending for everyone.''#and finally ''i'm the dirt under your fingernails'' WHAT A DEPRESSING FUCKING FINAL NOTE TO LEAVE YOUR RELATIONSHIP ON.#a zaunite is literal DIRT under a ruling class piltie's fingernails. and it's cute and means they are gonna be together forever. HELLO????#i don't know WHAT that thing is but that thing is NOT MY OTP#arcane liveblog#arcane spoilers#it's like they were planning to write a fucked up tragic romance story. like they were PLANNING to make cait the bad guy. IT IS CRAZY#they weren't let's be clear. but s1 was so deep and yielded to analysis so well. meanwhile if you look any deeper than shallow into s2 you#get interpretations like THIS#''finally a lesbian couple with a happy ending'' YEAH IF YOU IGNORE CLASS. IF YOU IGNORE CLASS BASED OPPRESSION. CMON GUYS WE DESERVE BETTE
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warn - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 349
"Lupin!"
Startled, Remus looked up from his work to see Amelia Moore, a seventh-year in his advanced study group, making her way toward him. "Yes?" he asked politely. They weren't close, but they got on well enough.
"Listen," she said softly with the sombre air of delivering terrible news. "You like Black, right? Like...like, like?"
Blushing deeply, Remus blinked and stuttered, trying to decide whether or not to deny it. Was he that obvious?
"Well, I know you do," Amelia cut him off, waving her hand as if to wave off the question. "The point is, I'm here to warn you."
"Warn me?" he asked, deeply confused now.
"Yes, I just...I heard a rumor. It might not be true, but...you're such a nice, sweet, clever guy, and I just think you deserve better," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder.
Stomach sinking, Remus tilted his head to the side, waiting. Who was Sirius dating now?
"I heard from my friend in Slytherin that Potter and Black have been running around snogging in broom cupboards," Amelia continued quickly, eyeing him for a reaction.
Remus thought about that for a moment, completely stunned. "Thanks, Amelia," he muttered. He had to get somewhere to think.
"Sorry I had to be the one to tell you. I know all of you are close," she chirped. "But if you're ever free-"
"Right, yeah," He cut her off and stood to leave. Before he knew it, he found himself walking toward the Common Room.
Sirius and James? That was impossible. They were close, yes. Closer than close. Obnoxious in the way they were literal soul mates. But they were also deeply platonic. Remus had never questioned that. Even when he questioned everything else.
So why was James rumored to be kissing Sirius in broom cupboards? Unless...
"Holy fuck!" he gasped in the middle of the corridor, ignoring the looks of indignation from nearby portraits.
Sirius wasn't the only person with the surname 'Black' at Hogwarts.
Turning on the spot, Remus started heading to the dungeons. He had to have a talk with Regulus Black.
#marauders#harry potter#marauders era#marauders fandom#fanfic#harry potter marauders#the marauders#marauders harry potter#marauders fanfic#the marauders era#marauder era#marauders fanfiction#marauders fic#james potter x regulus black#james and regulus#james potter#james x regulus#regulus x james#regulus and james#regulus black#regulus arcturus black#james loves regulus#regulus deserved better#regulus black x james potter#jegulus#jegulus microfic#starchaser#sunseeker#wolfstar
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Can I get a smau about them finding out you were a jujitsu sorcerer? Like you’ve been dating 4 years and you just casually drop it out of nowhere. Like a REALL strong one too (stronger than SUKUNA strong) ps. Let me be delusional pls😍
secrets pt. 1 -> them finding out you're actually a jujutsu sorcerer -> choso kamo, kento nanami, kiyotaka ijichi, satoru gojo, suguru geto, takuma ino
ok, first of all: thank you for this phenomenal request!!!! I love fulfilling requests, regardless of what they are because I just love interacting with you guys & sharing my writing with y'all, but it's always so fun & amazing to get a request that I'm so genuinely excited to fulfill & that inspires me as a creator, so thank you!!!
secondly: I kind of took the request & ran with it. I had a hard time coming up with a solution to like, why would they not know about it if they were dating, like that's an odd secret to keep?? So I originally planned on making this a pre-relationship kind of situation, but I have such a hard time with that, I always feel like anytime I try to create something like that it's so cringey & forced, idk??? So I'm sorry if this isn't exactly what you were asking for!
third: you'll notice the cast list for this smau is somewhat different than previous ones. I don't plan on keeping the same exact people or number of people in rotation for each post. When it comes to smau or writing in general, the last thing I want to do is force myself to create something. I typically don't add suguru to my smaus, but I felt like he really fit within this one & I had an idea for him. I didn't include any of the non-sorcerer characters because that made the most sense to me. In the future, if you'd like me to include a specific character (like suguru or sukuna, for example, who aren't in all of my smaus), just let me know; otherwise, it might be a mixed bag.
okay, fourth & final thing: this maybe only occurred to me, & if so, yay! but the whole time I was making this, I kept thinking that if this actually happened, they would probably never choose to have this conversation with you over text, & they'd probably have a much larger reaction. Those kinds of things are pretty difficult to capture in a 3-4 screenshot smau, if you know what I mean. Plus, angst is really not my bag at all; I wish it was & maybe I'll write more of it in the future, but not today.
xoxo, carlisle!
did you like it? -> here's my masterlist -> want something more? ask me for it
#jjk#jjk smau#jjk x reader#jjk headcanons#choso smau#kiyotaka smau#nanami smau#gojo smau#suguru smau#takuma smau#choso kamo#kento nanami#kiyotaka ijichi#satoru gojo#suguru geto#takuma ino
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drunken confessions
Theodore Nott x FemRavenclaw!Reader
Summary: Theo drinks a little bit more than he should....
Warnings: Drinking, No use of Y/N, Only mentions being in Ravenclaw once, and very cute???
Word Count: 1.6K
Note: Long time no see, my loves! I took a really long hiatus abruptly because life was kicking my ass badly. I decided that my first fic back should be a Theo fluff because who would I be if I didn't give this boy all of my attention? I hope you guys all enjoy it.
Banners by @cafekitsune
Music boomed through the Slytherin common room as you tried to navigate the sweaty bodies and screaming teens. You were trying to find Theodore, the person who had invited you. It was a celebratory party for Slytherin winning the quidditch game against Hufflepuff. You were in the Ravenclaw house but are good friends with many people in Slytherin.
"Oy," Draco pulled you to the side, "Looking for Theo?"
"Yeah, you've seen him?" you asked, gripping his arm so no one could separate you both. Draco nodded, pulling you to a separate room where Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, Enzo, Mattheo, and Theo sat.
"Finally, you're here." Daphne pulled you in for a hug, whispering in your ear, "Drunk pants over there have been asking about you for the past hour."
You glanced over at Theo, who was very drunk. "He never drinks this much." You whispered back to Daphne. She shrugged. "He caught the stitch. Winner of the game tonight."
You nodded, walking over to Theo and sitting next to him. He immediately grinned and wrapped his arms around your waist. "I've been waiting for you all night," Theo said, speaking slowly so his words didn't get slurred.
"I'm sorry. Why'd you drink so much without me?" You asked, tapping softly on his wrist. "I didn't mean to." Theo said, "Won the game, so people had given me a bunch of drinks."
You nodded, allowing Theo to go back to being the life of the party. Enzo sat down next to you, to keep you company as the party continued.
"So, what's your excuse for not being at the game tonight?" Enzo asked.
"That project for Transfiguration. My partner is an idiot who waited last minute to do his part, so I had to help him. I feel bad for missing it." You said, taking a sip of your water.
"Theo was upset that you weren't there. Probably what motivated him to win the game. That boy is obsessed with you," Enzo said, nudging you. You cleared your throat, feeling a sudden sense of nervousness. "We're just friends, Enzo."
"For now." Enzo wiggled his eyebrows. You laughed at him, rolling your eyes.
Did you like Theo? Yeah, but you didn't think he would like you back. He had a lot of girls on him and he could choose any of them. You were so wrapped in your mind and your conversation that you didn't notice that Theo had wandered off until you heard your name being called.
"Take Theo back to his dorm, please!" Blaise pleaded as he and Mattheo held a nearly blacked-out Theo up. You hopped up, grabbing Theo from them.
"Oh, hey, pretty girl." Theo drunkenly grinned at you. You smiled back. "You should've stopped drinking, Teddy."
"Really should've." Mattheo agreed. "You know where his dorm is. Don't worry about cleaning up down here, we got it."
You nodded, saying your goodbyes to everyone before walking upstairs to Theo's room.
"Pretty girl." Theo dragged out the pet name. "Your hair is so soft."
"Thanks, Teddy." You opened the door to his room, switched on the lights, and put him on the bed.
"Come on, let's get you in pajamas." You tapped his nose lightly, making him smile at you.
"You're so pretty, pretty girl. That's why I call you 'pretty girl' because you're so fucking pretty. Sometimes I think you're otherworldly because of it," Theo gushed, falling back on his bed. You felt your heartbeat pick up as the compliments flowed from Theo's mouth.
"Thank you, Theo. Here, put this shirt on." You handed the shirt to Theo, who shook his head no. "I like to be shirtless."
Theo pulled his shirt over his head and threw it in the hamper. You tried your best not to stare at his chest before handing him a pair of pants.
"You're taking good care of me, pretty girl. I wish you could always take care of me. Merlin, I love you so much." Theo spoke again. You felt your eyes widen as you looked at him. "What?" You said softly.
"I love you like I'm so in love with you. I just want to be with you all the time." Theo continued. You cleared your throat, pushing him under the covers. Theo was clearly saying anything to you because he was drunk. If Pansy or Daphne were here, he would probably say the same thing. You forced yourself to repeat that to yourself repeatedly so you could believe it.
"Get some sleep, Theo, goodnight." You switched off his light as you swung his door open. "Goodnight, my pretty girl. I love you." Theo said.
You quickly shut the door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. You didn't know how to interpret what had just happened. Theo admitted to being in love with you. Or did he? He was drunk, so he probably wasn't serious. Yeah, he was drunk. You took a deep breath before making your way back downstairs.
Mattheo saw you hurry down the stairs and raised his eyebrow at you, "You good? Is Theo okay?"
"Yeah, he's fine. I'm just gonna go back to my dorm," You said. Mattheo eyed you, "What happened?"
"What? Why would anything happen?" You asked, diverting your eyes anywhere but to Mattheo's.
"..."
You sighed, glancing down at your feet, "Theo said he was in love with me."
The room froze as everyone turned their heads to look at you. Suddenly, you felt tiny. "What? Why are you guys staring at me like that?" You asked.
"Nothing! It's just...." Daphne glanced at everyone, "We didn't expect Theo to confess that when he was drunk."
"Yeah, I had galleons on an angry confession followed by an angry, passionate kiss," Draco said, causing Pansy to hit him in the arm.
You blinked. Confess? Confess as in.... he's been holding this in for a long time?
"Wait, so he's telling the truth, and you all knew it?" You asked. Everyone made noises in agreement.
"I mean, everyone can see how head over heels he is for you. You were the only one denying it." Blaise said. Your face felt hot, and you shook your head, "I'm going to my dorm."
Everyone laughed, bidding you goodbye.
Theo woke up the next day with a terrible headache.
"Ahh, there's our champion." Blaise's teasing voice caused Theo to groan.
"Why would I ever drink that much?" Theo asked, mainly to himself. Enzo laughed, setting a cup of water and some medicine on Theo's bedside. "I don't know, but it was quite entertaining to see you get taken care of by your pretty girl." Enzo's voice was teasing and light.
Theo's face immediately heated at the idea of acting like a fool in front of you. "Did I do something stupid in front of her?"
Blaise and Enzo shared a look before shrugging. Theo looked at both of them. "What? What did I do? Oh, Merlin, tell me I didn't embarrass myself."
"I wouldn't say you embarrassed yourself," Blaise said.
"But sober Theo definitely wouldn't have confessed to her that he's in love with her," Enzo said.
It took Theo a moment to realize what Enzo had said before his face turned completely red in shame and embarrassment.
"I told her I was in love with her?" Theo groaned loudly. That was not how he pictured confessing to you. Well, he never pictured confessing his feelings to you because he was scared and had no intentions of doing it.
"It's a good thing, don't you think? I mean, she finally knows." Blaise said, "Although she might need some convincing because she thinks you only said it because you were drunk and probably didn't mean it."
Theo hopped out of his bed, finding the nearest t-shirt before slipping on his shoes. He had already confessed how he felt and if it's already out there, there's no point in hiding it.
Theo spirited to your dorm, not muttering a good morning to anyone as he pushed past them. Finally, he got to your dorm and banged on it until he heard your feet shuffling.
"Teddy?" You asked groggily before focusing your eyes on the out-of-breath and frizzled Theo in front of you, "What the hell happened to you?"
"I meant it."
"What?"
There was silence between you two. He knew you knew what he was talking about, so it didn't take long for realization to take over your face.
"I meant it." Theo repeated himself, "Every word I said last night while I was sloppy drunk was true."
"I have been trying to work up the courage to say something about it for the last year or so. Granted, I didn't think it would be while I was drunk."
"How long?" You tilted your head to the side, with a hint of amusement gracing your face.
Theo's face flushed pink, as he knew you were teasing him, as well as being genuinely curious. "Since first year. When I saw you on the train to school."
"You didn't even speak to me until third year."
"I was nervous." Theo let out a breath. "I watched you, though."
You held back a laugh as Theo immediately turned even more red. "That was creepy. I didn't mean it like that! I just— we've shared a lot of classes and— I'm going to shut up."
You stood on your tippy toes, kissing Theo's flushed cheeks. "I've had a crush on you since second year."
"Really?"
You nodded, smiling. "So what now?"
"Um, will you go on a date with me? Maybe next weekend after the quidditch game?" Theo asked, feeling more nervous than ever.
"I would love to, " you smiled. And I won't miss this game, I promise."
"I'm holding you to that." Theo smiled back.
You gave Theo another kiss on the cheek. "It's still early. I'll see you later, okay?"
Theo nodded, and you smiled, closing your door. Theo stayed there for a few more seconds until he realized he probably looked crazy for just smiling at your door.
Who knew getting drunk had some perks?
#theodore nott#slytherin boys#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry#theodore nott x reader#jayybugg fics#slytherin#fluff#theo nott x reader
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the devil that he is | a companion | c.sc
pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader genre: smut, just pwp warnings: kissing, mentions of alcohol, uses of daddy and good girl, oral, unprotected sex, creampie wordcount: 1.8k a/n: because @hannieween demanded it, here it is, a companion piece to pulse. please go and give that a read first if u can, though i don't think its necessary to understand the smut in this lmao (v don't get it in ur head that if u start demanding more ill write more this was an exception!!!!) Im really quite new to smut and not that great so pls let me know what u liked what u didn't like etc etc. uwu ily all, pls enjoy!
You're cuddled into Seungcheol's chest, sitting on his lap, eyes closed as you listen to the steady beat of your boyfriends's heart. He'd pulled the blanket up to cover you fully and was now rubbing soft circles into your waist.
Seungcheol presses a soft kiss on your cheek, smoothing your hair away from your face, "Are you tired baby?"
"No," you murmur.
Seungcheol's fingers pause, "Do you want to have some more fun?"
You look up at him, "Here?" Again?
"No not here, love," he chuckles.
"Then where?" Not that it mattered. Though you couldn't voice it in the open living room, you were feeling extremely unsatisfied from before.
He raises an eyebrow, "Is that a yes?"
"Yes ," you whisper. Anticipation of what he has planned makes your race.
Suddenly, you feel a cool sticky liquid seep onto your legs through the thin blanket. The liquid slides down your ass.
You throw the the blanket off you, "What—"
"Oh shit, sorry!" says Seungcheol. You see him holding an empty Corona bottle upside down , looking less like he was sorry, and more like a cat who caught the canary. He sets the bottle aside an hooks an arm under your legs, lifting you off his lap bridal style.
"Shua, I spilled beer on us and the couch, I'm gonna go grab some of your clothes to change into!" Seungcheol yells behind him as he carries you up the stairs, setting you down when he gets to a door. He opens the door and pushes you through it, locking it behind him once he's through.
There's a queen bed in the middle of the room with a thick grey comforter, and matching grey pillows. A guitar leans against the wall in the corner, a small shelf with a record player and vinyls next to it. Recognition lights your eyes and you whip around smacking Seungcheol in the chest. "Seungcheol!" Smack! "This is Josh's room!"
"Yeah, it is," Seungcheol's got a cheeky glint in his eye.
Your jaw drops and you smack him again, "We are not doing anything in here! I thought you were taking me to the bathroom." A fresh new blush blooms on your cheeks as heat rushes to your face.
"You want me to take you back downstairs to the bathroom?" Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, smirk growing and eyes darkening. He grabs you by the back of you neck, pulling you towards him, and using his other hand to slide up under you skirt to fondle an ass cheek. Your hands stay on his chest as his hot breath fans over your face, "Do you want everyone to hear the beautiful sounds you're about to make when I fuck you?"
You close your eyes and shudder, imagining people's eyes as they follow you and Seungcheol going into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. Imagining Seungcheol bending you over the counter so you can watch him in the mirror as he rails you from behind. The way your loud moans would reverberate off the bathroom walls and echo down the hallways to the living room, kitchen, and game room.
Seungcheol tightens the grip on your ass, "Oh, you do, don't you baby?" His face is so close your noses touch, but he doesn't close the distance between your lips. "You want everyone to hear how filthy you actually are, my shy shy girl." You clench you fingers around the fabric of his polo, and nod the faintest of nods. "I need to hear you baby. Do you or do you not want everyone to hear how drunk you are for Daddy's cock?"
You whine, nodding and grazing your lips against Seungcheol's. He tightens the hold on you neck, holding you back, "Words, babygirl."
"I-I want, you t-to—" You stumble over the words, still too shy to verbalize what you need from your boyfriend.
"We're not going anywhere until you can say it, babygirl," Seungcheol murmurs, moving his hand to cup your jaw.
You swallow before trying again, keeping your voice steady, "I want you to fuck me."
"And," he rubs his thumb back and forth on your cheek.
"And?" You falter, looking into his deep brown eyes.
"And, you know what else." He goads you on.
"A-and," You think . Then, you understand and, your thighs rubs against each other on their own accord, seeking friction. "I want everyone to hear," you whisper.
Seungcheol is unrelentless though, the devil that he is. "Hear what, baby?"
You whine and try to lean over to catch his lips with yours.
"Come on," he takes his hand off your ass to smooth your hair out of your face, using the hand on your jaw to force you to look at him. "Say it and I'll give you exactly what you want." Your eyes glaze over at that.
"I want everyone to he-ar," you voice cracks but you keep on, "how filthy I am for Daddy's cock." You wince at how needy your voice sounds.
Seungcheol presses the sweetest, softest, kiss to your lips and smiles at you, "Good girl. Now, that wasn't so hard baby, was it?"
His hands are warm against your cheek and you shyly shake your head no. He pats your cheek, "Go get on the bed, love."
You go to sit on the end of Joshua's bed, perhaps a little too giddy as the bed bounces a little from your weight. Seungcheol follows close behind, unbuttoning his jeans, not once taking his eyes off of you. "Take your shirt off for me, and your skirt," he says, and you don't hestitate for a second to take them off. Seungcheol mirrors you, pulling his polo over his head and stepping out of jeans, leaving him in just his tight black boxer briefs.
His hard cock strains agaisnt the tight fabric and you wonder if he feels just as needy as you are right now. Unable to decipher the look on Seungcheol's face, you decide it resembles something akin to a lion waiting to pounce on a gazelle. He licks his lips, looking down on your nearly naked body.
"For me?" his voice is gruff. Oh, your lingerie set. You'd almost forgotten about it. Deep red and lacey. Bra barely covering the swell of your breasts and panties already ruined from earlier.
You nod, chewing on your lip before asking in a small voice, "Do you like it?"
Seungcheol groans, running a hand through his hair, muttering, "You're gonna be the death of me."
He brings a hand up to up one of your breasts, thumb running over the top. You shiver in anticipation when his thumb grazes your skin.
It doesn't take even a second before Seungcheol's got you on you back against the bed, attacking your throat with kisses. You'll take that as a yes.
You snake a hand up into his hair, fingers tangling into his soft strands, giving it a tug when he mouths at the sensitive spot right under your jaw.
Seungcheol pushes a hand up under your bra and you let out a breathy moan when he swipes over a pert nipple. Your hips buck up into him, craving friction, and he grinds his clothed hard cock over your clothed cunt.
Seungcheol kisses down your neck, and your chest, lower and lower, until he reaches your soaked panties. He rips them off, tossing them into an unknown corner of the room, and uses his hands to spread your legs apart, holding them down firmly at your thighs.
Your breath hitches when you feel Seungcheol lick a fat, wet stripe up your cunt. But he doesn't give you a chance you even think about it, instead attacking your pussy with his mouth, switching between licking at it and sucking your clit. Your head rolls back in pleasure, and any move to grind against his face is halted by his firm hold on your thighs.
"Seungcheol," you whimper, as he sucks roughly at your clit. You pull on his hair, biting back a moan as pleasure builds within you. You need more.
Seungcheol lifts his head, your arousal dripping down his chin. He looks smug at how much you've come undone on just his tongue alone.
He leans up to kiss you, his tongue licking the inside of your mouth, letting you taste yourself. You moan into his mouth and he ruts agaisnt you. You grind up against him, or at least try to, with his hands still firmly holding you down. "Seungcheol," you whine, "I need you."
Seungcheol groans again, nipping at your bottom lip. He sits up on his knees, still situated between your legs, and pulls out his cock. It's hard and leaking so much pre-cum out its red tip. You nearly drool at the sight.
He rubs his cock against your entrance, letting your arousal smear all over it, and with no preamble, starts to push in.
You gasp at the feeling of his girthy cock slowly stretching you out, "Seungcheol." With one final push, he bottoms out, and god have you never felt so full.
Seungcheol leans down to kiss you and then he starts to move. Slow and languid at first but faster as he starts rocking his hips against yours.
He grunts with every snap of his hips and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand to hide your moans.
"Baby," Seungcheol's breathing hard, but so are you, "Baby, don't cover your mouth, let them hear you." At that, your pussy clenches around Seungcheol's cock, and Seungcheol stalls for a moment, letting out a choked, "Oh my god."
You slip out your own sweet little cry as Seungcheol picks his pace back up, your orgasm starting to build. Seungcheol moves his hand down to your clit and starts rubbing circles on it. "Come for me baby, cum all over Daddy's cock, yeah?"
You let out one final echoing moan as your orgasm comes crashing down around you, Seungcheol following after you with a quick fuck fuck fuck. You whimper from pleasure as you feel Seungcheol fill you up with his cum, the excess leaking out and down your leg onto the bed.
There's a knock on the door, and you both freeze. A moment. And then another knock, this one sounding more hesitant.
"Yeah?" Seungcheol yells, voice raspy.
Another moment, then a pained voice softly floats through the door, Dino, "Um, the guys told me to tell you that we can hear you? And, uh, Shua says to burn the sheets before you come back down?" There's a incomprehensible yell. "Um, actually he says don't come down just—I'm not telling them that!" There's more yelling and Dino sighs, "He would like you two to unkindly jump out the window please."
© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO CTRLALTDAISEE I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS, OR REPOSTING OF MY WORKS ON THIS OR ON OTHER WEBSITES
#seventeen#seventeen fanfic#seventeen smut#seungcheol x reader#choi seungcheol#daisee.writes#band: seventeen#title: the devil that he is#seungcheol#scoups#scoups smut#scoups fanfic#scoups x reader#choi seungcheol smut#member: seungcheol
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Surprising thing about Dandadan is Okarun randomly pulls different girls throughout the manga, but all of their feelings for him are not very deep (you could argue Aira, but I think her feelings were kinda insta-love which is then used as mostly a gag- kinda unsrs to watch)
-Aira is already obsessed with him the next time they meet
-Vamola is obsessed with him after a random kiss (then ends up being explained it was for plot and not real romantic feelings)
-Rin- what foundation, and her whole vampire attraction moment was literally a joke 😭🖐
But Momo's relationship with Jiji then later Unji are taken much more seriously with strong foundations for why they have feelings/might be growing feelings for her, while also feeling realistic and subtle
Like I'm sorry but this was cute and we have never gotten a such a significantly intimate moment like this from Okarun with any of Momo's love rivals 🖐
Zuma got a whole arc with her to himself like??? Insane you can tell when Yukinobu locks in for the love rival plots LOL
In exchange for Momo's outward very obvious bursts of hilarious jealousy we get more complex love rivals for Okarun to battle lmao, least that's how I see it
(By "more complex" I mean in regards to them as love rivals, all the characters are equally complex as just characters)
Okarun got game but Momo got GAME GAME like they sense her baddie wife energy
Momo is a total catch like she's literally MVP for almost all the fights in Dandadan, and the only times she isn't is when she literally isn't present- so I don't blame them 😌💅✨️✨️✨️
And ofc in the end all these people's feelings for our MCs are only there to develop their romance, bc they obviously only want each other
Sidenote ppl who are like "wow a pretty girl has to be paired with a nerdy loser guy again"
Bitch listen
First of all he has his ultra baddie form
Second of all he is devoted to the nth degree to Momo and only Momo, all his thoughts are consumed by her, and everything he does is for her happiness and safety
Like the way he got so fucking mad a dude was degrading her right in front of him??? The way Okarun was used to being pushed around and bullied for most of his school life but he threw hands with a rando immediately with no hesitation for her sake??? She wasn't even in the room to hear it??? A MAN
No Okarun slander shall be tolerated here ✋️
#dandadan#dandadan spoilers#dandadan manga#okarun#momo ayase#ken takakura#unji zuma#jiji#aira shiratori#sidrabbles#i was reading the manga and getting annoyed to see it was kinda feeling like shounen harem bs for a bit#but the author reeled it in#so yay
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Everything's so damn dark when the blindfold slips off that for a second she can't see a thing.
Don't panic. Don't scream. Don't hurt the baby.
Something groans at her feet and she startles straight into the pipe behind her head.
"'lo?" A voice asks, familiar enough to give her pause, and she wonders for a moment if this is a joke, if this is a trick, if this - "s'there?"
His words are slurred. A concussion, maybe, then. Great. Biggest man she knows and he's gonna be a useless pile of puke to her.
Don't panic, Maddie reminds herself, and then she starts giggling.
"Tommy?"
He groans an affirmative.
"Oh good. I feel a lot better about getting overpowered, now."
A hand grabs for her ankle and Maddie bites back a scream. It's Tommy's hand, big and warm and - fully unbound, which feels a little unfair. "Cunt drugged me," he says, then pauses. Squeezes her ankle. "Sorry for the language."
"No, it's, uh - I think it's warranted this time."
Maddie can't remember exactly how it'd happened to her. Had she been hit? Is she injured? She does a mental tally. Her lip feels swollen. Nose and eyes feel fine, though, so maybe she bit it? Neck, shoulders, all good. She's been bending her elbows and wrists just fine, she just doesn't have the leverage to do anything about the zip ties keeping her affixed to the probably pipe behind her. Hips, legs, knees. She wiggles her toes and in the darkness Tommy chuckles. "Everything accounted for?"
He must have done his own check while she was working through hers. She can hear him rustling around. "I'm still incredibly mad at you, but it's nice to hear your voice," she says, and Tommy goes still. "Tommy? All good?"
"...why are you mad at me?"
"Like you don't know?" Oh. Actually maybe she is more mad than she is glad. "You broke my brother's heart, idiot. I don't have any more room in my entire house for the coping mechanism he's come up with." She kicks, a little. Tommy grunts and shifts. "I hope that hit something painful and non-essential to our escape."
"He's - he'll be fine."
"What exactly is your definition of fine? Because it's been a few months and he's still bringing me baked goods on a bi-weekly basis."
"Bi-weekly like -."
"Do not get pedantic on me, Kinard. Two times a week. What's your status? Moving parts all still moving?"
"I think my balls have taken a vacation, but that's more a reflection on how terrifying you are than on this current situation."
Flippant. Sarcasm in the face of Maddie trying to get a full picture. Buck had called him funny and charming. Maddie's second kick doesn't land, but only because he's got a hand wrapped around her foot. "Once we're out of here, I'm gonna punch you in the face."
He hums. "For the balls comment, or the cunt thing?"
Maddie shrugs. Remembers that he can't see it. "Which part of 'broke my brother's heart' are you not getting?"
He sounds like he's moving gingerly. She can hear heavy bulky fabric rustle and she wonders if he's in three layers like usual. She could use something warm. "I - figured he'd be over it by now."
Maddie snorts. If she had to make a guess, Tommy glowers at the noise. "Dumbass."
And then it hits her. "The cunt? Skinny, brunette, pretty? Kind of...angular face?"
Tommy hums and takes her weight as she tries to kick again. "Sounds like her."
"Oh, Buck's gonna be pissed and embarrassed. She's rebound attempt number two."
Tommy's silent long enough that Maddie has to check in. He hums, and goes back to silence. "Rebound attempt?"
"If you hadn't noticed, we've actually been kidnapped, so maybe I can save your relationship afterwards?"
"I think she was trying to kill me," Tommy admits. "Otherwise why am I unbound in this shitty Saw knockoff?"
Maddie feels some extra pieces dropping into place. Oh, Buck is never gonna live this down actually.
"Can you overpower her if she comes in?"
"If she's not quick to try to drug me again. If I can figure out where the fucking door is. If -."
"A yes or no is fine. Pretty sure she's the Bay Butcher, if that helps you answer."
His pause is long. "...maybe," he says, and accepts the kick this time without block or protest.
#bucktommy#bucktommy fic#tevan fic#kind of#maddie & tommy#lol apparently abduction fic is my new muse
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Connection terminated. I'm sorry to interrupt you, Elizabeth, if you still even remember that name, But I'm afraid you've been misinformed. You are not here to receive a gift, nor have you been called here by the individual you assume, although, you have indeed been called. You have all been called here, into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, misdirection and misfortune. A labyrinth with no exit, a maze with no prize. You don't even realize that you are trapped. Your lust for blood has driven you in endless circles, chasing the cries of children in some unseen chamber, always seeming so near, yet somehow out of reach, but you will never find them. None of you will. This is where your story ends. And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow found this job listing not intended for you, although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am remaining as well. I am nearby. This place will not be remembered, and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fade away. As the agony of every tragedy should. And to you monsters trapped in the corridors, be still and give up your spirits. They don't belong to you. For most of you, I believe there is peace and perhaps more waiting for you after the smoke clears. Although, for one of you, the darkest pit of Hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the devil waiting, old friend. My daughter, if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shut out and left to die, no one was there to lift you up into their arms the way you lifted others into yours, and then, what became of you. I should have known you wouldn't be content to disappear, not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now. It's time to rest - for you, and for those you have carried in your arms. This ends for all of us. End communication.
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I am so soft for father figure Shinsou, thank you for giving me something I didn’t know I needed. Just doing everyday things with him and him being soft towards you child is giving me life.
Casual. That's the word you used to describe what the meeting should be. Casual.
"He's a good boy, for the most part." Your bag is already stuffed full of toys and towels and other miscellaneous things that Shinso can't imagine you'll need. "His dad spoils him, so he might be a little bratty at first- we're working on it. Well, I'm working on it. His dad is--"
You kneel down and start rummaging through your things.
"Uh, don't let him guilt you into buying him snacks, please. He's got a severe nut and seed allergy and it's just easier if I take care of it all. There's snacks in here, along with two epipens. There's two more in the red cabinet in the kitchen, just in case we ever need them. "
Somehow, you manage to wiggle out the sunscreen for your bag without collapsing the whole pile. You dollop a bit on your fingers.
"Once they get here, we'll go straight to the park and hang out there for just a little bit. The book says the first meeting should be short and we should give him other things to focus out so he doesn't stress out." Your shoulders are bunched by your ears. "It'll be super casual. Easy. No stress."
Shinso kneels down next to you and dips a finger in the sunscreen.
"No stress," Shinso repeats back, dotting the sunscreen on your nose. It's enough to urge a smile out of you.
"Sorry, I know I'm--" You toss your hands in the air, frazzled, but with a smile. "This is a big deal."
"I know it is."
"We've only been dating for eight months," you say/ "What if we're jumping the gun? I don't want to put him through this if-"
"I'm not planning on breaking up with you." Ever. Shinso wouldn't have agreed to this if he wasn't completely sure that you were the one for him. It's not that he doesn't like children, it's that he's never spent time with any. Only child, no cousins: he doesn't know anything about kids other than the fact he used to be one.
You reach other and dot Shinso's nose with sunscreen. Now, you're matching.
"You might break up with me after you see what I'm dealing with."
Shinso takes your hand. "I'm not going to leave because you have a kid."
"I was talking about his father," you heave out a sigh. "They'll probably be late, by the way."
-
They are late.
Significantly.
It's six hours past the allotted time, filled with weak excuses from you. The television has rolled into the second season of some trashy show, but neither of you are really watching.
"He always loses track of time," you repeat for the twentieth time, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. Shinso is long past disappointed, well into the area of 'pissed'. Mostly at your ex, partially at you, for letting it happen.
"He's still not calling you back?"
"No," you say, just like you've said before. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have let him know about you, he's just-- I dunno. Playing games with me again."
It contextualizes a lot of your behaviors, actually. The anxiety about getting home, the days you go radio silent, the dates where you suddenly have to run off and collect your child: he imagines there's a lot of bullshit games that happen between you two.
"You let him treat you like this?"
"He's my baby's father. I can't just..."
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Holding On
WARNING: This definitely counts as spoiler for act 3.
Summary: Jinx thinks she too far gone, but you think exactly the opposite.
Pairing: Jinx x fem!reader
Wordcount: 829
Authors note: I decided to cope with writing so I'm back guys :)
masterlist
The air was thick with tension, the faint hum of the explosives making everything feel heavier. Jinx stood in the center of the room, her body trembling with the weight of her thoughts. The bomb was in her hands—its cruel, ticking countdown echoing through her head, matching the frantic pace of her heartbeat.
She looked at the device, her eyes wild with something darker than madness. Her fingers were just inches away from pulling the trigger. The detonator. The end. She could feel it. The destruction. The chaos.
But there was something else too. Something so faint, you almost missed it—a desperation that even Jinx couldn't hide.
You didn’t know how you got here, only that you had to get to her before it was too late. Your heart pounded in your chest as you rushed into the room, your eyes locking onto her figure.
"Jinx!" you called, your voice strong, breaking through the sound of the countdown. She didn't look up. Not at first.
"Don't even think about it," you said, your voice sharper now, cutting through the tense silence that had surrounded her. You knew you were running out of time.
Her head snapped up, her eyes filled with something you couldn't read, a whirlwind of anger, pain, and confusion. The bomb was still in her hands, her fingers trembling, but she didn’t move.
"You think you can stop me?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, raw. "You think I care?"
You took a step closer, your hands raised in a gesture of caution, but your resolve was unwavering. "I care, Jinx. I care more than you know. But this… this isn't you."
Her lips curled into a bitter smile, but her eyes betrayed her. They were glassy, unfocused. "Who else am I supposed to be, huh?" The words were jagged, broken, just like her. "I’ve lost everyone. I don’t even know who I am anymore."
"You're Jinx," you said, your voice softening as you took another step forward. "You're the girl I… I can’t lose, not like this." You swallowed, your heart aching with every word you spoke. "Please, put the bomb down."
For a long moment, she just stood there, her face unreadable, as though trying to make sense of the chaos in her mind. Then she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, but you heard it clearly.
"You’ve been the best girlfriend… the best person in my life. You know that, right?" Her hand trembled, but she didn't pull away. Her eyes didn’t meet yours as she spoke, but you could see the hint of something breaking in her gaze. "I’m sorry… but I don't think I can keep going like this. I don't know how much more of me you can take."
"Jinx, no…" you breathed, stepping closer, your heart pounding as the weight of her words hit you.
"You deserve someone who can be whole," she continued, her voice cracking, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "You deserve someone who can… stay. I don’t even know who I am anymore. But you—" She stopped, shaking her head, a faint laugh escaping her lips, bitter and broken. "You were everything. Thank you. Thank you for everything."
"Don’t you dare," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Don’t you dare say goodbye. Not like this."
Her hand tightened on the detonator again, her fingers almost convulsing, but she was silent, the look in her eyes telling you more than any words could.
You couldn’t let her go, not like this.
“Please, Jinx,” you whispered desperately, your voice barely audible. "I need you. I love you. I can’t lose you. You don’t have to do this. You’re worth so much more than all of this. We’ll figure it out together. Please."
She looked at you then, her lips trembling, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. The bomb in her hand felt like nothing compared to the weight of the emotion that filled the room. She slowly lowered the detonator, her hands shaking as she clutched it loosely, a faint tremble passing through her.
"I'm too far gone," she said, barely above a whisper, her voice breaking. "But maybe... maybe I still have something left. I can't leave you alone"
You reached for her then, slowly, gently. She didn't flinch as you took her hand in yours, her fingers cold but now gripping you back, even if just a little.
"I can't let you go," you said softly, your voice trembling but firm. "Please... don't leave me like this."
For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself lean against you, her body trembling. The bomb was still in her hand, but she wasn’t holding onto it anymore.
"I don't deserve you," she whispered, her voice barely a breath.
And for once, there was no chaos. Just the fragile thread of connection between you, something both of you clung to as if it could mend the broken pieces. "You deserve everything," you murmured, your voice steady and sure. "And I’ll be here to remind you of that, every step of the way."
#jinx arcane#jinx x reader#jinx x y/n#arcane jinx#jinx/you#jinx x fem!reader#jinx posting#jinx league of legends#jinx lol
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𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝙰 𝙱𝚘𝚢.
(Older!Powder x fem!reader)
I'm sorry but I finished ep 1 of act 3 and had to write this to get my emotions out about ekko and powder being a thing in an alternative reality bcz just RAHHHFHSHEHSHHS my gay ass is crying (no offense to the timebomb shippers, you do you!! If you like this that's cool💪💪) ENGLISH ISN'T MY NATIVE LANGUAGE, IF I MADE SOME SPELLING MISTAKES I'M SORRY ALSO SPOILERS FOR ACT 3!!
Warnings: uhhh just angst, mostly angst, this is for my girlies who might be feeling the same
༺ღ༒ ༺ღ༒ ༺ღ༒ ༒ღ༻
You've always liked Powder, every since you were kids, and still when you are teenagers.
Their was always something about her. The way she made the most creative inventions, the way she always seemed to have some sort of spark in her eyes. Her laugh, her hair, her eyes, it's hard for you to explain the feelings you have towards her.
You knew the way Vi's death was heavy on her, you could see that with the days, and soon years that came after. You we're always trying to be there to support her, make her feel a little better. You gave her space when she needed it, and we're there for her when she needed you the most.
And then there was Ekko.
You never hated Ekko, you 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 hate Ekko. he was a good guy, you got along with him. He was around Powder nearly just as much as you we're, maybe even a little more. When you were around Powder, he wouldn't take long to show up as well. You didn't mind.
But you couldn't deny that you we're jealous of him, of Ekko. The way he charmed his way into Powder's heart over the years. With his sketches, ideas, personality, kindness and understanding. You wanted what him and Powder had as if what you already had wasn't enough for you. You could see the way she looked at him, how 𝙝𝙚 looked at her the same way.
You often wished it was you instead of him. You try to forget about your jealousy, push it asside. You try to push your jealousy and selfishness asside, keep everything natural between you three. But it got harder and harder the more time went on.
Ekko has been acting strange recently, or at least that's what Powder told you. How he 'seems not to remember anything' and how he says these things about how in a dream her and Vi we're completely different. You noticed yourself too, how he was more around then usual. You assumed it was because of his project or whatever.
Now you find yourself here, on the dance floor in the last drop. Inventions around you everywhere as music and colorful lights fill the bar. You look into the crowd, trying to spot Powder. It took you a whole 5 minutes to finally spot her, but to no suprise, Ekko was there. On the dance floor, with her. Dancing together to the beat of the music like it was just the two of them. You tried to move your eyes away from the sight, let them be happy and together. But the jealousy ate you from the inside out, this all just left a bitter taste on your tongue. It all got so overwhelming so quickly, so you decide to leave the place before you explode and do something stupid.
So you decide to go out to Powder's little Hideout for now and go back once you've cooled down. You look at the massive invention across the room, stunned as fuck how they made this. You don't want to pay too much attention to it though, so you continue walking through the massive space before sitting down in front of the small memorial that Powder made for Vi.
You lighten the place up before just.. Sitting there. You sigh, looking at the picture sat on the desk. Vi always knew you had a thing for Powder, she always encouraged you to tell her how you felt. Whenever the situation was on your mind, you'd go here. You'd talk, like she was still there. Because to you, she was. To everyone, she still was. Now wasn't any different, you talked about what has been going on recently. With Ekko, Powder, and everything else.
"I just.. Don't know what to do, I know I'm supposed to be happy for them.. Ekko is a great guy, a-and if they become a thing, I'll be fine with it but.. Theirs this voice in the back of my mind that just doesn't seem to go away.." You groan, your head in your hands as you thought for a moment.
You knew you couldn't hide your feelings forever. If Powder wasn't going to feel the same way towards you, you might as well tell her what you've been feeling all this time. Just for an answer, a yes or a no. Anything. If she didn't feel anything as well then at least she'd know.
"I'll tell her, tonight. Like you always wanted me to do.. I'll.. I'll get this over with, okay? For you."
You found yourself walking back towards the last drop, but then you see Powder, going in the direction of what you knew to be the place where Vi always took her to. So you decided to follow.
If only you weren't blind enough to see Ekko walking along with her.
You climbed up to the place, heart racing in your chest as you tried to think about the things you could say. Your mind was running a million miles and you tried desperately to calm your nerves.
You we're finally gonna do it, you we're gonna tell her how you feel.
But just as you nearly reach the top, you see her. And Ekko.
Their kissing.
In front of your eyes.
Your heart dropped, hope that you knew was useless in the end shattered as you saw the image.
Wrong fucking timing. You stood there, frozen in time before quickly getting out of there. Trying to hold back the tears that we're threatening to fall.
She likes Ekko. She only likes Ekko. It was never you. Not in childhood, not in teenage years.
She likes a boy. That boy.
Your not that boy, and for now, you had to live with that.
You we're never going to being the one kissing her. It was always going to be him in the end.
#arcane x reader#Powder x reader#jinx x reader#arcane league of legends#arcane s2#ekko arcane#powder arcane
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Connection terminated. I'm sorry to interrupt you, Elizabeth, if you still even remember that name, But I'm afraid you've been misinformed. You are not here to receive a gift, nor have you been called here by the individual you assume, although, you have indeed been called. You have all been called here, into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, misdirection and misfortune. A labyrinth with no exit, a maze with no prize. You don't even realize that you are trapped. Your lust for blood has driven you in endless circles, chasing the cries of children in some unseen chamber, always seeming so near, yet somehow out of reach, but you will never find them. None of you will. This is where your story ends. And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow found this job listing not intended for you, although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am remaining as well. I am nearby. This place will not be remembered, and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fade away. As the agony of every tragedy should. And to you monsters trapped in the corridors, be still and give up your spirits. They don't belong to you. For most of you, I believe there is peace and perhaps more waiting for you after the smoke clears. Although, for one of you, the darkest pit of Hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the devil waiting, old friend. My daughter, if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shut out and left to die, no one was there to lift you up into their arms the way you lifted others into yours, and then, what became of you. I should have known you wouldn't be content to disappear, not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now. It's time to rest - for you, and for those you have carried in your arms. This ends for all of us. End communication.
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ᴛᴡᴏ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴇᴅ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)
this is part two. for part one, click here!
pairing: rafe cameron x kook!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)
word count: 4.4k
summary: rafe gives you an ultimatum, and in the setting sun, you see another
warnings: ANGST!!!!, pining/whipped reader, kook!reader & kook!rafe, suggestive but no outright smut, ultimatums, jj is alive, arguing, not proofread
a note: i'm sorry this is late!
please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚*:・゚✧
Were you being punished by your love for him?
You tried to move on, you really did. You tried everything you could think of, bar from ignoring Rafe all together. You had even joined a dating app, where you met a fellow Kook named Alexander, and you went on a few dates with him. He was a great guy, handsome, smart, and charming, but he wasn’t Rafe. Alexander didn’t draw your attention away from your best friend that you were hopelessly still in love with, even after trying to gaslight yourself into believing that you had a crush on him.
You kept Alexander around for a while. He was a fun guy, he paid for your little lunch or coffee shop dates, and he was a good fuck. You had lied and told him that you just weren’t a very vocal girl in bed, but in reality you were biting your tongue to keep from moaning Rafe’s name into his ear. It had been a few weeks, and even after everything, Rafe was still the only person you thought of when you slipped your hands under your panties at night. You eventually started to feel bad about leading him on and tried to break things off amicably. He didn’t take it well, but you didn’t expect him to.
You had tried to distract yourself, going to party after party and club after club, making out with whatever guy you could get your hands on. But nothing worked. You couldn’t stop thinking about your Kook prince, the most feared man on Kildare that had a soft spot in his heart for you.
You had almost hoped that Rafe would’ve ditched you, would’ve kicked you to the side like a dog. At least it would be easier to move on that way, and you wouldn’t be stuck under his thumb, thinking about the ways you could get out of the hold he has on you. He still wanted to see you and be around you, constantly calling and texting like it was normal, like you hadn’t professed your undying love to him only three weeks ago. You felt like a two-headed monster. One head was his best friend, one head was deeply in love with him.
You know he’s fine, but what about you? What do you do?
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
Even after everything, you still have to show up for your Friday night tradition; sitting on Rafe’s sofa, tucked under his arm, watching a shitty 80s zombie movies while eating a Costco pizza. You shouldn’t have agreed, knowing it would only make things harder, but you would do anything for him. Your poor heart would always surrender to him.
Maybe this time he would start falling for you, too.
You pull into the driveway of his new house, grabbing the pizza from the backseat before heading up to the front door, balancing the giant box with one hand as you knock.
The door swings open a second later, with Rafe standing in the doorway, grinning at the sight of the pizza box in your hands. He steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. “You’ve arrived with the goods, I see.”
You swallow hard. He looks so fucking good, wearing a tight black t-shirt and a pair of dark green sweatpants. You hug him with one arm, burying your face in his shoulder and inhaling deep. Your eyebrows furrow slightly and your free hand clenches around your keys. He smells different. Sweeter. Almost like candy.
Sofia must’ve been here earlier.
You pull away, carrying the pizza box into his living room. “Yup. I got you extra cheese, too.”
He follows behind you, shutting the door behind the two of you. His arm wraps around your shoulder when you reach the sofa, pulling you in tight to his side. “Extra cheese for my girl.” he teases, taking the box from you to set on the coffee table. You’re on the edge while he’s so goddamn polite and composed.
You tense up slightly as you settle into his sofa, grabbing the remote. You turn the TV on, trying to distract yourself from the empty feeling building up inside of you and gnawing at your guts. “Which movie are we watching tonight?”
“Mm…” He stretches out on the sofa, his legs tangling with yours as he looks over your shoulder at the TV. His body is pressed up against yours, and as usual, his proximity starts to stir up feelings deep inside of you. Feelings you thought you had managed to repress. “How about Romero?”
Your eyebrows furrow again. This man was going to give you wrinkles. “I thought we were watching zombie movies. Not ones about a Salvadoran archbishop.”
“No, not Romero like the actual archbishop, I mean like--” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “The man who invented the zombie film genre, dumbass. Do you need me to find a new best friend or something? Because you’re starting to get a little too idiotic for me.”
What the fuck? “Excuse me?”
He snorts, watching you get defensive. “Come on, it was a joke,” he says, nudging you with his knee. “Lighten up, I’m just teasing.”
“It wasn’t funny.” You say.
It’s then that he notices the way your shoulders are tense. Your jaw is clenched, and your eyes focus on the screen in front of the two of you with a bit too much intent. You’re upset. He can feel the agitation radiating off of you, and he hates it. He’s too used to his best friend being comfortable with him, happy around him. He lets out a breath, sitting up straight. “Don’t be like that,” he mutters. “Relax.”
“You don’t get to call me a dumbass, Rafe.” You say, your tone sharp.
Rafe stares at you, his irritation rising bit by bit. He takes in your expression, your sharp tone, the agitation that was practically coming off of you in waves. This was new territory for him. You weren’t just being cold, you were pissed. He’d never seen you this pissed at him. He didn’t like it.
He wanted the old you back, the you he thought you were. His best friend, his confidant, not the girl who’s helplessly in love with him, not the girl who lies awake all night thinking about him. Not the girl who moans his name into her pillow as she cums, hoping one day he would fall in love with her, too. He wanted you to just move on, to give up, to completely wipe your romantic feelings for him clean. He wanted more, while leaving you with less.
“You didn't use to care about this shit,” He says. “Not until you decided you were in love with me or whatever.”
“Decided?” You ask, scoffing. “It isn’t something you just wake up and decide.”
Rafe stares at you, his gaze hard, almost like he’s trying to search for the words that he wants to say. He was never good at this, talking about his feelings. He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I… I don’t know.” He mutters, staring down at the floor. “I just wish things were the way they used to be, okay? I didn’t ask for all this bullshit. I never asked you to feel this way, so why are you making things so difficult?”
“I didn’t ask for this either.” You say.
“Well, you’re the one whose in love.” He says, the words almost bitter on his tongue. “You’re the one who made things difficult. I didn’t ask you to feel this way. I didn’t tell you to go and fall in love with me. So why are you getting pissed because I’m not in love with you too?”
“I’m not pissed, Rafe,” You say, although deep down you truly are. “I knew from the very beginning that I had no chance with you. I wouldn’t love me, either.”
He falls silent, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He knew that wasn’t true. He knows that you’re beautiful, and sweet, and kind, and funny. He knew that you should have every chance with him. But he just didn’t love you that way. “How many times do we have to go over this?” He asks, his voice soft. “I’ve never loved you like that. You’re my best friend, you know that.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” You say bitterly.
He grits his jaw, frustrated now. He hated how bitter you were when it came to this. He hated that you expected him to be in love with you back when he just didn’t see you that way. He hated that he had to keep explaining this over and over again to you, and he hated the fact that you were just sitting here, pouting like a toddler. Like a girl who was in love.
He was tired of being the bad guy in this. “Then you shouldn’t have fallen in love with me.”
“I wish I never did.” You say.
He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t know what to say. He just turns to look at the movie, his jaw clenched. He hated that you said that. He hated that you wished you’d never fallen for him. He didn’t want you to wish that. If you didn’t fall for him, how long would it be before you fell for someone else? Someone who wasn’t him? He didn’t want the thought of you with another guy to piss him off so much.
Rafe sighs. “Quit looking at me like I’m the bad guy here.”
“Do you want me to pretend you’re a good guy?” You ask, crossing your arms.
“I am the good guy,” He snaps, his eyes narrowing. What the hell? He knew he wasn’t an angel by any means, but he was a good guy. He took care of his family, protected his friends, and stayed loyal to his girlfriend. “You’re the one who fell in love with me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
You sigh, looking away. This was pointless, even more pointless than the daydreams you filled your mind with when you couldn’t sleep. “Whatever.”
He looks at you for a moment, jaw clenched, his body tense.
“You know, this whole self-pitying, 'woe is me, Rafe is the bad guy' bullshit is starting to piss me off. It’s getting annoying.” He says.
“I don’t know what you want me to do, Rafe.” You say.
“Stop acting as if I’ve done something wrong. Like I’ve wronged you,” He says, exasperated. He can’t understand why you’re being like this, and it’s pissing him off even more. “I don’t like you that way. I’ve never liked you that way. Why is that such a hard concept for you to accept?”
“It isn’t,” You say, your voice starting to get thick with emotion. “I know you don’t like me, I know you aren’t attracted to me, I just… it’s just so hard for me to move on, and I don’t know why.”
Rafe is silent for a moment, watching as your face starts to crumble. He can’t help but sigh. He moves closer to you, placing his hand on your thigh. Normally, it was the opposite. Normally it was you comforting him, not him trying to comfort you. “It’ll pass. You’ll get over it eventually.”
It’ll pass.
It’ll pass.
It will never pass, will it?
You sniffle, one hand reaching up to wipe the corners of your eyes. “I should go.”
He catches your wrist, tugging you back down on the sofa. “Sit down,” he says, his voice firm. “You’re not going anywhere yet. We need to talk about something.”
“About what?” You ask, not looking at him.
He lets go of your wrist, crossing his arms over his chest. “This,” He says simply, gesturing towards your face. “This…depression, sadness, self-pity bullshit. I hate seeing you the way you are right now, like you’ve just been kicked down. It’s pathetic. It’s not you.”
You don’t reply, finally looking over at him, eyes red rimmed with tears.
He stares back, his expression unchanging. You think he would’ve softened up at the sight of you, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to see you like this anymore. You’re supposed to be his best friend, the person he confides in and takes comfort in. “You’re supposed to be the person I come to when I’m upset. Not the other way around. This pity party you have going on needs to end. You’re better than that.”
You look back down at your lap, starting to pick at the skin around your thumbnails. “What do you want me to do?”
“Move on,” Rafe says, his tone harsher than he intended. “Move the fuck on. I want my best friend again, not this whiney, insecure brat. I don’t have any romantic feelings for you, and I’m tired of treating you with kid gloves because you can’t handle the truth. Get a grip and get over it. You either move on, and things go back to normal, or we stop being friends.”
You feel your stomach drop, your throat constricting, air getting caught in your windpipe. You don’t look at him, continuing to dig your fingernails into your skin. He watches you for a moment, noticing the way your chest shakes as you try to keep back the tears. He knew your habits by now, and he noticed the way your hands started to fiddle and pick. You did that when you were trying to distract yourself. You did that when you were upset, hurt.
“Stop that,” He mumbles, reaching out and grabbing your hand.
You pull your hand away and stand up, fists clenching as your chest shakes. You couldn’t break down. Not here, not in front of him. “I should go.”
Rafe reaches out, grabbing your wrist again. He stands up too, using his grip to tug you back towards him. “We need to talk about this. Sit down.”
You pull away again, taking a step back, a soft squeak tumbling out of your mouth as you start to cry.
The squeak causes his stomach to twist. His face falls. “Don’t pull away from me.” He pleads softly, his hand reaching out for you again.
You retreat again, shaking your head as more tears start to fall. Your legs shake, your hands coming up to cover your face.
He grabs your wrist again, gently pulling you into his arms. “Stop it,” he says firmly, pulling you in close to his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around your trembling frame. “Stop.”
You sob into his chest, your hands still covering your face, shoulders shaking violently as you try and take a deep breath.
He stays quiet, one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you firmly against him. His other hand comes up to tangle in your hair, playing with the roots of it as his chin rests on the top of your head. “Stop crying,” He repeats, his voice a bit gentler. “I’m not worth it.”
“Yes you are.” You mumble, wiping your tears with your fingers, palms still pressed against your face, mascara smearing across your cheeks.
“No, I’m not,” He says firmly, his breath fanning over the crown of your head. His fingers tighten slightly in your hair, rubbing slow circles into your scalp. Not to offer comfort. No, he knew that wouldn’t work. But to just keep you where you were, firmly held against his chest. “I’m a disaster. Even after everything, after trying to change, I’m still a disaster.”
“You're not a disaster.” You say, pulling back to look at him.
He stares down at you, his expression hard to read. He has his usual, guarded look on, but the way his hand reaches up to gently wipe away one of your tears gives away the fact that he’s affected. “I am,” He repeats, his voice quiet. “And I won’t ever be the man you think I am.”
You hesitate. “I want the Rafe I’m looking at. Not the picture of you in my head.”
He lets a huff of air out through his nose, his expression softening for the briefest of moments as he looks down at you. You were so beautiful, even when you were crying and on the edge of a breakdown. But he couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in it again, like in high school. He had moved on. At least, in his mind. “You’ll never be satisfied with that. I’m no saint, and I’ll never be the romantic, fairy tale guy you want me to be.”
“I just want--” You try to correct yourself, although you meant the former. “I just wanted to be yours.”
He stiffens for a second, his gaze hardening again as he studies your face. “No,” he mutters, a tinge of something you can’t place in his voice. “You can’t be mine. I’m not yours, and I’ll never be yours. You’re not mine to keep, you’re not the one I want, you’re not the one I’m in love with.”
You sigh, your voice soft. “I know.”
He lets out a breath, the expression on his face pained. He cupped your face, wiping away some of the smeared mascara. “I don’t want to keep hurting you,” He says softly. “I don’t want to keep making you cry. I don’t want to keep disappointing you.”
“I’m hurting myself,” You say. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who just can’t move on.”
“You’re not the one at fault,” Rafe says, his thumb still wiping at the tear stains on your cheek. “I’m the one who can’t love you the way you want to be loved. And I’ll never be able to. You deserve someone who can, and I want you to find that person.”
You did find that person, the one holding your face and looking at you like you’re his saving light in eternal darkness. You had ignored so many bad omens, hoping that the universe was wrong, that they made a mistake, that your red strings of fate were intertwined in the stars.
But they weren’t.
You swallow hard. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder. To get over you.”
“Good.” He says, his thumb brushing under your eye one last time, wiping away a tear. His thumb brushes across your cheek, pressing down slightly to feel the softness of your skin. He moves his other hand to your jaw, moving his thumb side to side on your neck, feeling your pulse.
His eyes meet yours before his gaze travels over your face, soaking in every detail of you. They linger on your lips, just for a second too long, and much to his dismay, you notice it. His eyes move back up to look into yours.
Your breath hitches ever so slightly, your lips parting. Rafe purses his lips together slightly, rubbing them together, his eyes looking back down at your mouth. He mumbles your name quietly, his voice soft.
“What?” You ask.
He doesn’t answer.
His eyes are still looking at your mouth. He watches your lips move as you speak, watches how your tongue peeks out of the corner of your mouth ever so slightly.
He can’t think straight. He can’t think at all. His mind has gone fuzzy, and every cell of his body is telling him something he knows he shouldn’t do.
His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, and he pulls you in closer.
He places a kiss to your forehead, his eyes closing.
Your eye twitches, your stomach churning, your face getting hot with shame and embarrassment.
He pulls away, looking down at you. “I’m sorry, alright? Can we just… can we just chill and watch a movie?”
You should say no. You should scream at him, yell at him for manipulating you, for looking at you like that and acting like he was going to kiss you.
But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to hate him, even after this.
You swallow hard, blinking a few times as you look at the long forgotten pizza box on the coffee table. “Yeah. We can watch a movie.”
He feels relieved. That’s good.
He gives you a small smile, placing a hand on the small of your back and ushering you towards the sofa. He turns you towards the sofa, gesturing for you to sit down, his hand still lingering on your back, the feel of your skin under your sweater making his heart race.
His eyes linger on you for a moment, before he turns to grab the remote off of the coffee table. He sits down next to you, trying to keep a normal distance between the two of you, instead of pressing himself up against your side. He opens the pizza box as he opens Hulu, handing you a slice.
You take it, your fingers and hands numb and tingling as you try to suppress the bile in your throat.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
The Outer Banks is truly paradise on Earth.
Although The Boneyard isn’t the nicest beach on the island, it has a few secluded spots that still manage to take your breath away. You find your favourite spot easily, a small sandbank by the entrance to a long-forgotten cove. It was once filled with rumours of pirates and treasures, but now it’s full of seaweed.
You settle into the sand, holding your sandals in your hands, arms draped over your knees. You watch the sunset pink and orange streaking across the sky, listening to the soft crashing of the waves and the distant call of a seagull. The wind gently pulls through your hair, and you push some behind your ears, closing your eyes as you feel the sun on your face.
It’s peaceful.
Another soft breeze brushes over you, carrying with it the scent of weed, an uncommon occurrence for this particular spot. Not a lot of other people on the island knew of your spot, mainly just Rafe and Sarah.
You turn your gaze to your left, finding a familiar figure sitting about a yard away from you.
JJ smiles, head tilted to the side, a lit joint between his fingers. “Hey.”
“Hey.” You say, smiling softly. You had always had a little soft spot for JJ, considering him to be one of the few Pogues you could actually stand, maybe other than Kiara.
JJ takes a hit of the joint, looking out over the ocean, the sun starting to descend towards the horizon. He sighs contently before turning to look at you again, raising his eyebrows as he studies you. “What’re doing out here all alone?”
“Just watching the sunset.” You say. You pat the sand next to you, inviting him to take a seat.
“Yeah? Me too,” He says, moving closer to take a seat next to you. He stretches out his legs, leaning back onto his hands and resting his head against the sand. He takes another hit from the joint, sighing out the smoke before offering it to you. “Want a hit?”
You nod, taking it between your thumb and pointer finger. You take a deep hit, sucking in the smoke and blowing it out in a thick white cloud. You hold it out towards him. “Thanks.”
He takes it from you, his fingers brushing against yours. “Anytime,” He says, leaning back. He watches you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face. The sun is setting in front of you, casting a warm, orange glow illuminating you that catches on your hair. He can’t help but admire the way the sunset looks against your figure, casting a glowing haze around you. His gaze softens in the presence of your soft glow. “You look pretty tonight.”
You smile softly, feeling your face get warm. “Thanks, JJ. So do you.”
He smiles back, his eyes locking with yours. It’s just the two of you out here, and JJ likes it that way. Just you and him sitting alone on the beach, watching the sunset. “Just pretty?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Handsome.” You add.
He’s silent for a moment, staring back at you. He lets out a breath through his nose, trying to hide the grin on his face as his cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink, but it’s still clear on his face. “Damn right, I am.” He mutters. The two of you just stare at each other for a minute, the quiet sounds of the ocean in front of you and the distant sound of a fish jumping, trying to catch a bug flying across the water.
You smile at him again, looking back over the water.
JJ studies your profile for a moment, taking a hit off of his joint before passing it back to you, still staring at you. His eyes linger on your eyes, before slowly dropping down to your lips. He watches you, the soft expression on your face and how your hair blows in the wind. He’s always liked the way you look when you’re relaxed. You always look pretty, but you really look beautiful when you’re relaxed, when there’s no stress or worry in your mind.
He studies your face, committing every detail to memory. He sits up straighter, placing the joint back in his mouth. He hesitates before throwing one arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. You oblige, slotting yourself against him, leaning your head against his shoulder.
He smiles to himself, feeling you move closer. His arm tightens around you, fingers absentmindedly tracing circles into your shoulder. He watches the sun over the ocean, noticing how the light dances over the rippling water. He takes the joint from his mouth once again, taking a hit. He holds it in his lungs for a second, before leaning forward slightly, his gaze shifting down to your cheek. He lets out a cloud of smoke from his mouth, the smoke hovering in the air between the two of you.
You take the joint from him and take a hit before handing it back, holding it in your lungs before exhaling slowly. You look up at him, watching as he puts the joint in his mouth as he shifts in the sand. You smile softly again, admiring the way his eyes shine in the pink and orange hues of the setting sun.
Sometimes the one you want is not the one you need.
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚*:・゚✧
part three?
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