#nanami kento x reader romance

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.12 how you get the girl

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 12/x (probably 18)

ᰔ words. 11.3k

a/n. man the color scheme for this chapter is kinda giving BRAT lolol...i mean gojo IS brat. anywho, i don't have much to say at the beginning of this chapter but i do have a LOT to say at the end of it sooo see y'all at the bottom!! hope u enjoy. also BIG THANK YOU to @whereflowerswenttodie who beta read parts of this chapter for me n convinced me not to scrap it lol

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

11:03am you: hi! 11:03am you: good luck today 11:03am you: incase i don’t see you

11:05am Gojo Satoru: Why wouldn’t you? Aren’t you gonna be on the field for your newsletter shots?

11:07am you: i mean yes but idk where i’m gonna be stationed so 11:07am you: it might not be on UTokyo’s side of the field

11:08am Gojo Satoru: Okay then I’ll look for you before the game starts

11:10am you: no pls don’t. coach yaga thinks i distract you. i don’t want to get yelled at again. he scares me :(

11:12am Gojo Satoru: Haha you’re silly 11:13am Gojo Satoru: East side entrance at 2 11:13am Gojo Satoru: Be there

11:14am you: or be square?

11:15am Gojo Satoru: Yea whatever shape you wanna be in is fine cutie

It’s a bright sunny day outside, perfectly blue sky with a scattering of fluffy clouds seen outside the window of your shared room in your apartment, and you realize spring is fully here from the way birds chirp past the glass. You’re stuffing your camera case full of chilled Kodak film rolls, your last stash left, and it’s the last piece of equipment you pack before slinging the strap over your shoulder and heading out the door.

Mina had offered to give you a ride to the stadium since your car’s still at the shop, but you’re happy you opted for the bumpy bus ride and although you come close to low-grade concussions from the bang of your head to the window at every other speed bump, the music in your ears while someone else is operating a public transport vehicle helps you think creatively before shooting shots.

It was surprise enough that Mina of all people was going to this game, and when you questioned her about it in the morning, she looked at you like you were absurd to assume anyone from UTokyo wouldn’t be at this game, and sure enough, it’s all anyone on Instagram has been repping on their stories or talking about in the bustling minutes before lectures. Even Utahime was going to this game, and she hates all intercollegiate sports. You knew the game was a big deal, given the way Coach Yaga was yelled at via email by the Dean of UTokyo to make sure the team wins today because a multimillion dollar Nike sponsorship would be greenlit by the prospect (for some reason you were cc’d in an email chain among divisional higher-ups, but you weren’t opposed to snooping in on conversations that were entirely outside of your tax bracket).

It’s because it’s the second to last home game before the season ends, and apparently this has been statistically the best season the UTokyo D1 Men’s Soccer team has played since the new millenia. No pressure to the players on that fact, but failure wasn’t much of an option for them anymore. 

And you can feel the stakes the second you step inside the stadium. Packed would be an understatement, there were people flooding the aisles, overbooked for the sake of the university pocketing an extra buck no doubt, but spectators could care less since they were able to at least get in on the basis of that irresponsibility in the first place, despite the stadium’s capacity having long been reached before the pregame festivities even start. Banners and signs drape over railings with the school’s striking blue and golden colors, every single replay screen is lit up and brightly pixelated at every north, south, east, and west entrance for inclusive viewing. As you pass VIP security and make it into the lower field-level entry, the scattered chants from the crowd amplify in volume and you almost wince a little to yourself from the noise. The stadium felt like a living, breathing entity, pulsing with the collective heartbeat of everyone inside. 

You’ve never been more overstimulated in your life, except instead of finding it frightening, it was electrifying. And for once, you think you can understand what an athlete must feel when playing on their own home turf surrounded by those that are wholeheartedly rooting for them.

Hana is quick to spot you, panic clear across her face as she regards you with a couple pages with your assigned vantage points, a rushed briefing session, and then she��s darting down the sidelines to make sure equipment is set up appropriately where needed. She’s understaffed, given you told Utahime about Kai’s little intervention last week and she made a nasty point to the university (and possibly a handful of legal threats) and they relented in firing him. So now the three of you were down a photographer, and the extra work shows in the instructions she gave you as you skim the sheets. 

A glance at your phone tells you it’s close to 2pm, and your eyes take in the expanse of green on the field. UTokyo’s players practice kicking shots off to the right goal post, while YCU’s players practice shots off to the left. You can’t spot where Gojo is, but you faithfully head down to the East Side entrance like he asked you to. 

When you round the corner, you almost crash right into an Ichiko mascot, but swiftly dodge, and then you stop in your tracks when you see Gojo standing right at the concrete entrance. He’s leaning back against the adjacent wall, arms crossed at his chest, and he’s stretching his neck side to side with a creased brow, an intense look in his eyes, lost in serious thought, scanning the wall across from him like he’s mapping out plays in his head. 

When you approach him and catch the corner of his eyesight, he leans off the wall and flashes you one of his so extremely charmed to see you grins on reflex, and suddenly there’s nothing your senses seem to pick up on except him. Like everything else around you just disappears.

“Hey, you,” he says when he comes up to you, and you walk him like a dog back to a corner that’s tucked further away from noises and sights. You lean your back against the wall now, the coolness of concrete seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and he stands a step in front of you. Your hands toy with the strap of your camera.

“Are you ready to win today?” you ask him, and look off to the right into the flourishing seats that are still being filled to the brim, “clearly there’s no pressure.”

He breathes in deep, and releases it slowly, like there really was tension to relieve. “We’ve got no choice but to win.”

“Is that something Coach Yaga says to you guys often?” you ask him, because the man recited the same thing about five times in that email chain. “Also, apparently you take years off of his life.” Another thing he recited about five times in that email chain.

Gojo only addresses what he wants to address, as per usual. “Yeah, it’s something he says to us often.” 

“So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”

He looks at you puzzled, tilting his head to the side. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

It’s hard to assume that he didn’t have something to talk about with the intention of telling you to meet him here, because this is the same place you confessed to him a few weeks ago, and so is also the place he so painfully rejected you. But maybe he doesn’t think about these kinds of things as much as you do. “I see.”

His tongue pokes to his cheek as he studies your anticipating expression, and then he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “What are we doing? I mean, I like you, and you like me too, at least I hope you still do. Why don’t we—…why don’t we just give it a go already? I don’t see how we can move forward if you won’t at least let me take you out on a date.”

Your hands stop fidgeting with your camera strap from his words, and you lick your lips, suddenly unable to keep eye contact with him so your gaze drifts down to his chest in front of you. His uniform is clean, no smudges of dirt or grass, just pure white fabric underneath heat-pressed blue and golden accents, and of course, that signature number 10. You’re sure he’s all you’ll ever think of when you see that number now for the rest of your life. 

You know when you want something so bad you don’t know what to do once you have it? Because it almost seems too good to be true? 

“I just wanted to let stuff between us breathe for a little bit,” you confess, “it’s just, it was a lot to deal with. Being around you when I thought you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. I don’t know if this is odd to say, and maybe I’m overthinking it, but I just feel like somewhere along the way, I kind of…forgot who you were for a little bit.” This kind of vulnerability would have you running away with your tail between your legs with anyone else, but not with him. Not after everything. 

His expression softens, melting away that confrontational energy he had earlier, and he nods slowly. He opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t seem to find words. The presence of them is there, though, you can feel them. But what good are his thoughts if not voiced? 

“I just wanted to spend a little bit of time getting to know you again, I guess.” You squeeze your arm in reassurance of yourself because he wasn’t giving it to you. You let out an awkward laugh. “I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, to be honest.”

You can tell he’s at a crossroads, and you think back to this week and his efforts to get you to open up to him again. You know how he feels right now, because it’s exactly how you felt when he rejected you. Like when someone is so close, yet so far, you can feel that they’re within arms reach but never truly. And they’re slipping away for some reason that you may never know, but all you can do is assume that it’s a fault of your own. You’re not really sure what he can do to make you feel secure about this whole thing anymore, and you can see the slight panic in his eyes when he realizes that too.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he tells you, rushed with a desperation entirely contrary to his words, “what’s a week or two when I want to spend a lot more of those with you anyways.” But he takes a deep breath, like he’s already mentally preparing himself for an agonizing wait in his head.

There’s a sound over the stadium speakers, something technical and sporty and goes entirely over your head in dismissal, but to Gojo it seems to have a different effect, as he’s suddenly attentive and stands up straighter, that focused expression on his face from earlier resurfacing. You realize he needs to get back to the field. 

“Can we continue this conversation after the game?” he asks you hastily, already turning towards the center of the stadium. And he adds an obligatory, “sorry.”

“Yeah, sure,” you quickly agree, suddenly feeling like you’re taking up his time. 

He gives you a small smile, unsure in its presentation but pure in its intention. But he can only take one step towards the field before you reach out and pinch the fabric of his jersey to keep him still. He feels the tug of it and fully faces you once again. 

“Um. Just a sec,” you say, “I have something to give you before your game.”

“Oh?” he looks at you with interest, “I fucking love things.” 

“You have to close your eyes though.”

“…what is the thing…” He squints at you with a what are you up to expression.

“Just close your eyes!” you snap at him.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face and then he closes his eyes. “You’re scary as hell sometimes. Excuse me for being cautious.”

You roll your eyes, useless because he doesn’t see it, and then take a step towards him. You cup his jaw with the palm of your hand, his cheek twitching slightly from the unexpected contact, and then you raise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his cheek. It’s short and sweet with the sound of a peck.

“For good luck,” you whisper, then you quickly lower yourself back onto your heels, take a step back and tuck some strands of hair behind your ear. The ground suddenly interests you.

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times with shock and his hand comes up to brush the tips of his fingers against the spot you kissed him, and then his gaze goes comically dazed when he reaches out to hold you. “Alright, c’mere you,” he says, closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he leans down to kiss you but you laugh and push his face away.

“No no no, only on the cheek for now,” you say with a small laugh.

He does nothing to restrain his frustrated groan. “You can’t do something that cute and then expect me to be chill about it.”

“If you win, then, maybe I’ll let you kiss me for real.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes. Maybe.”

He’s close, towering over you near this bustling east side entrance that he seems to like so much, and his eyes drop to your lips. “Alright. I like those odds.” 

You give him a smile and slip away from him to get back towards the field, and you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

The pregame events are a blur, with blaring music accompanied by the sounds of the sports announcers clipping across the speakers, finally quieted down in time for the players to line up on the field for the national anthem which was then followed by UTokyo’s alma mater. 

You’re stationed on the same side of the field as Minato, UTokyo’s side, while Hana is covering the sidelines of the opposite end with the opponents goal post. Minato’s filling up a cup of Gatorade for himself at the athlete’s station and then he comes back around to find you.

“Are you ready to take your shots? I see Hana wanted you to shoot on film today,” he says to you as he sloshes around Glacier Freeze in a flimsy plastic cup.

You twist your aperture dial with your thumb. “Yesss, all set. I’ll try to keep up.” 

He nods at you in approval.

The atmosphere feels nerve wracking. Something felt different about this game, the stakes feeling high. Well, of course they’re high, because if they lose today then they’re out of the tournament. But the stakes feel high for other reasons too, an energy you can pick up on but can’t quite discern. 

Your eyes drift across the field where you can see a referee placing a ball at the center of the field. Off to the right, you can see Gojo standing with a few of his other teammates, including Geto, Nanami, and Choso, and they’re all gesticulating to various corners of the field as they discuss what you can only imagine have to do with their plays for today. And you realize— it’s their last college soccer season. Their second-to-last official home match before the championship, and for those of them that haven’t qualified for the national league, it may be their second-to-last match of this caliber for the rest of their lives. One of the final chances that they have to prove something of themselves. The determination was palpable. 

The chief referee’s whistle cuts through the air with three short chirps, and that gathers the attention of all the players on the field. UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kickoff, and YCU’s players choose to attack the left side goal.

Your stomach churns with anticipation, the crowd hushing too as all the players take their places on the field. If you feel nervous, you can only imagine how the athletes feel. There’s a rhythm that you’ve learned over the past couple of months getting to know the sport, where players stretch out their necks and kick out their feet and take subtle deep breaths as they survey the stands. Idle moments before the start of the match where they have no choice but to look forward and only forward, so they take a moment to stay in the present for as long as they can gather. You’ve never been much of a sports spectator, and perhaps you’ve only recently had some personal interest in the team, but you realize you feel pride in your school as you stand behind chalk sideline and see UTokyo’s colors scattered across the field in uniform. And fuck, you wanted them to win. You wanted them to win with fierceness and wrath, and it’s a desire you share with the crowd. 

Gojo spends a minute talking to the referee before the black and white striped man pats him high on the back in the good sport and urges him towards the center of the field. He lifts his foot up onto the ball, rolling it back and forth underneath the spikes of his cleat, and you can see it in his eyes, even from all the way over here, that he seems to have different ideas in mind for this game too. High stakes. Pre-determined, set with will, evident in the clench of his jaw and the concentrated furrow of his brow as he surveys the field with his eyes, and you’re lost in the sight for what feels like forever because you can hardly register the chirp of the ref’s whistle. 

And then the kickoff starts. 

The ball is tapped to Geto to start the play, and the first few minutes were intense as the ball was passed back and forth between UTokyo’s players, placing pressure on YCU’s defense as they inched closer and closer towards the goal. A pass between UTokyo’s #4 was intercepted by YCU and the ball was rushed down towards the left side, the crowd’s horror evident in the uproar as they raise to their feet in fearful anticipation, and with ruthless offense, YCU’s forward takes a clear sink shot towards the goal, and the crowd holds their breath before they watch Choso lunge for it in air, gloved hands firmly grabbing the ball and then pulling it to his chest with a possessiveness you can only expect to see from a skilled goalie, before he crashes down into the ground and the crowd releases relief in the form of rowdy roars.

Ten minutes in, with everyone on their toes, each team tested each other’s defenses. UTokyo were known for stellar offense, especially within the past few years with players like Gojo Satoru and Takuma Ino joining the league as powerful forwards, but UTokyo’s overall offense was still statistically second to none other than YCU. And the pressure YCU was putting on UTokyo’s defense was wearisome to say the least. You glance to see Nanami, who is UTokyo’s best defensive player, huffing and puffing as he stands between two light-footed YCU players in an attempt to guard, and fails an attempt to steal the ball before it gets to the feet of YCU’s striker #6, passed in a split second off to his teammate, with a fake so seamless that it has Choso just a couple inches away from touching the ball before it’s sent flying into the net. 

The noises from the crowd are still loud, but dampened in spirit. 

With the referees hand signal up in the air, the current score is confirmed. 0-1, YCU. 

Coach Yaga calls for a sub, in which he switches Nanami out for who you believe is a 2nd-year defensive player name Yuta you’ve seen around practice with a promising statistical record for interceptions, and you watch as Nanami takes the bench before he swipes the sweat off his face in exhaustion. God. Just fifteen minutes into the match, and YCU already has UTokyo’s defense winded from play. 

You bring your camera up to your face, forgetting for a moment that there was still a job to do here, and you position the direction of the lens towards the center of the field, where Gojo takes his place at the ball once more. Yuta briefly passes by him, signaling some play to him by holding up a number three, likely something Coach Yaga asked him to pass on to Gojo, and you see him briefly nod, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes slowly and pulls his jersey up to wipe at the sweat at his forehead. 

The referee chirps the whistle, Gojo taps the ball to Yuta, and the play starts. 

YCU immediately puts pressure on UTokyo’s offensive play once more, with eager movements to steal the ball, but it’s passed between UTokyo’s players with ease, more practiced and more sure. The kind of play that you and the rest of the school was used to seeing from them. However, Geto loses the ball on a left-back pass, but right when YCU makes attempts to cover field in a long-shot kick towards the left, Yuta intercepts the ball and swiftly passes it to Gojo.

The crowd immediately rises to their feet in anticipation, watching as Gojo shuffles the ball down the field, dangerously close to off-field boundaries, a signature tactic he uses because he knows there’s not a single player in the league that can match him in precision and control to keep the ball in-field on a steal, and he swiftly passes it towards Geto with a side-swept kick, beelining down towards the goal post, in perfect time for Geto pass-back to meet his feet and when Gojo was this close to a net, there was no stopping him. 

He draws his right foot back, and explosively kicks the ball forward, chipping the grass under it in the motion, and it’s sent flying towards the goal, and then threaded past the goalie right to the back of the net. The cheers that erupt across the stadium rumble the ground beneath you. 

1-1, even match.

UTokyo spends no time celebrating, other than a few pats to Gojo’s back as he nods in acknowledgement, no emotion on his face other than pure concentration and greed. The greed to win, like a righteous sin. He stretches his neck out, panting slightly as he takes his place towards the right side of the field and the referee chirps his whistle to signal YCU to start the kickoff.

They quickly make attempts in moving the ball towards their scoring-end of the field, but face push-back from UTokyo’s defense, unable to make it much further past the midfield line, and you bring your camera up to take a snap of Gojo, who you see is still standing off to the right side of the field. But when you position it and peer through the viewfinder, that space he once stood at was empty. You pull your camera down, and blink at the sight, and then the crowd is picking up in volume once more.

Gojo sprints down the flank, cutting past every defender, and moves towards YCU’s attacking goal, which was a shocking place to be for a center forward, but you could feel his desire and determination to steal this back-and-forth ball, and succeeds when YCU makes an open pass, thinking they were in the clear, only to have Gojo sneak in at the last moment and get the ball at his feet. 

The play moves by in a flash, a blur that you or anyone else in the stadium could hardly keep up with it, movements so fast you were shocked a human being was capable of even running that far in such a short amount of time, and in an almost embarrassingly easy play, Gojo makes a fool out of YCU’s defenders as he slips the ball through the legs of his last obstacle before he struck it with sharp precision, sending it soaring to the corner of the goal, past the outstretched arms of the goalie, and into the net. 

2-1, UTokyo.

It was electrifying, the feeling that strikes through the stadium, one that reaches you in your own blood. You’re shocked, standing here, after witnessing Gojo score two goals within the matter of minutes, against one of the top three teams in the league. It’s a shock that reaches everyone, including Coach Yaga who’s standing about ten feet down the line from you, his arms crossed, and you see his eyes for the first time as he takes his sunglasses off to get a better look at what he’s seeing.

You trail his sight, dragging your gaze across the field until it lands at Gojo, who is barely acknowledging the encouraging pats and shakes and goodhearted shoves that his teammates were giving him, because he was focused. It might sound crazy to say, but you swear his eyes looked like a fiercer shade of blue, like they were lit up, and you’re insanely glad you’re not one of YCU’s defensive players at the moment because you feel fearful of him even just standing on the sidelines. 

Your gaze trails back to Coach Yaga, who slowly puts his sunglasses back on but his brows are narrowed tightly as he crosses his arms over his chest tightly.

The “athletic zone”... You’ve heard of it before. A state of pure focus, of peak performance, where an athlete experiences optimal concentration and a sense of effortless control over their actions. In which they perform at their highest level, where time slows down, any and all distractions fade away, and they’re completely immersed in their sport at hand. At the task at hand.

Coach Yaga seems to pick up on the fact that Gojo was on the edge of tapping into that state. 

YCU makes a substitution, and you watch in anticipation as they begin the kickoff. 

There’s fire in their veins with desperation to even out the score once more, rushing the ball down the off-field line, one of their center forwards mimicking Gojo’s signature attack pattern, and Yuta struggles to keep up with the expert dribbling of a fourth-year player with more experience on him, so much so to where he completely leaves the ball unguarded and there’s an open shot, but Geto places pressure at the last moment, in a fierce battle for the ball, before YCU’s center forward loses the ball over the goal line. 

Choso picks the ball up, tapping on it harshly a few times as he surveys his eyes down the field, and all offensive players begin to shuffle towards their attacking goal in anticipation for the goal kick. He signals his hand down and then holds up two fingers in the air before placing the ball down on the six-yard box. He tightens the strap of one of his gloves, eyes squinting, and you follow his gaze down to a part of the field where you note UTokyo’s best aerial players are located and being guarded by YCU’s defense. And with complete trust in his team, that’s exactly where he kicks the ball. 

Geto makes first contact with the ball, his chest colliding with two other YCU players as his head comes out on top and he headbutts the ball closer towards the inner field, and Gojo immediately gains access to it with a bounce of his knee. The crowd holds their breath, fear that they’ll lose the ball to a steal in the split second it spends floating in the air, but Gojo urges it forward with a bounce off of his chest and then rushes it straight down towards the goal post. 

You wonder what sight he sees right now. Where you’re dead center, at no angle, lunging towards the sight of an open goal with a sole goalie standing in the center, anticipating to block your shot, and three defenders on your tail. There’s no room for error, no time to think, only instincts that you cultivate in the last leading milliseconds. They say that, in sports, athletes channel one hundred hours of practice in just a brief second on the field. A split second success that was years in the making. You can’t even imagine possessing that level of perfection in your body, or possessing that level of confidence that you can follow through with it in a moment as dire as this.

It was unreal, the way Gojo fades away from all the defenders, and faces no fear when confronted with the sight of the goalie in front of him while drawing his foot back to kick the ball. You lift your camera up at the last second, no time to think about aperture or ISO, just like he had no time to second-doubt a single twitch in his muscles, and his foot makes contact with the ball so harshly that you can hear the explosive sound even among the delirious cheers from the crowd, before he hook, line, and sinks it straight past the goalie’s head, rushing by like a scarcely deflected bullet, and into the net behind him. 

3-1, UTokyo.

The whole stadium is momentarily speechless, all players and referees and recruiters and reporters and coaches and employees alike, before the most deafening cheers you’ve ever heard in your life scatter across the stands.

There’s a moment of brief reprieve, where the players can catch their breath while YCU makes yet another substitution, as if they’re just trial-and-erroring it at this point, and the cheers in the stadiums remain idle as you can’t tear your gaze away from Gojo.

It’s one of those moments where you realize that someone who you thought was so familiar to you was actually someone you hardly knew at all. You knew he was a talented soccer player, everyone on campus knows it, potentially one of the best to ever grace the league, and the amount of times you passively watched his plays on a lecture hall projector screen as your professor enthusiastically broke them down during class, even before you met him, was good enough for you to realize that he was insane, a one-in-a-million, a talent you cannot replicate, one you have by divinity. One you were born with. 

And yet, somehow, getting to know him these past couple of months, he just felt so human. For someone so seemingly beyond you, he felt so…close? In those moments where it was just the two of you, it was hard to imagine that he was capable of such greatness, and that so many people were rooting for him with wholehearted tears in their eyes and cheers from their hearts, because most of the time, when he was with you, he was just a dorky idiot. You find that your heart is beating fast in your chest, that feeling of being unsure of what to do with what you’ve been wanting resurfacing powerfully. 

“This is insane,” you hear Minato say from beside you and you jump a little from your thoughts being interrupted.

You twiddle with your camera straps. “I know…almost done with the first half and we’re up 3-1…I thought YCU are number one in offense for the league?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean, yes, that is insane too. But what’s even more insane is that three of the goals so far have been scored by one player.” He tips his chin towards the right sight of the field and you trail his line of sight. “By Gojo Satoru.”

Your brow furrows as you watch Gojo, his hands on his hips and his mouth slightly open as he indulges in a few shallow breaths to gain energy while YCU prepares for kickoff. Three goals, by just one player. Your eyes widen when you realize that is insane, especially for a D1 semi-final qualifying match.

“You know what the divisional record is for most goals scored by a single player during a championship match, y/n?” Minato asks you as he lifts his camera up to take a picture of the area Gojo was standing in. 

You shake your head and wait for his response.

He drops his camera down and glances at the photo on his screen. “Four. During Keio Uni vs. Osaka Uni, near the beginning of the tournament back in 1997 by Osaka’s center forward number 24, Yuji Nakazawa. Meaning no one’s managed to beat that record since the new millenia, for a couple decades. Although a few players came close.”

You blink at him, and Minato is jerking his chin over in the direction of Gojo again.

“I think he’s trying to beat the record.”

You can only widen your eyes at Minato in realization, and then the chirp of the referee’s whistle draws everyone’s attention back to the field. 

The sports announcers go wild on the speakers, the crowd raving all the same, standing to their feet like the team just won the championship match.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! We are watching HISTORY in the making!! Gojo Satoru, UTokyo’s very own 3-year consecutive MVP, has scored his 34th goal of the season, highest of any player in this year’s season so far, and is now on the road to beat the league’s long-standing record for most goals scored by a single player in a championship match since 1997!!” And the crowd roars even louder as you stare out at the field in awe.

YCU starts the kickoff following the prompt short chirp of the referee’s whistle, and with two minutes remaining on the clock for the first half, make desperate attempts to book it down the field towards their attacking goal, one of their midfielders making a clumsy attempt to strike the ball to the net in the final minutes of the half, and Choso easily catches it in his arms, right before the buzzer of the timer sounds, and the match moves into halftime. 

All of UTokyo’s players immediately flock towards Gojo in sportful glee, finally having a chance to surround him and harass him with harsh pats on his back and ruffles of his hair for his play in the first half. Choso even puts him in a headlock because they all don’t know what else to do with their excitement and adrenaline rushing through their bodies. Their win for today was basically confirmed with the way he was playing. 

You catch a glimpse of him through the crowd of people, and he has a boyish grin on his face, reveling in the embarrassing amount of attention from his teammates, that focused look from before dissolving into his normal self again. But you can see through him, as well enough as you’ve learned to at least, and you can tell he’s not satisfied. He’s thinking it’s not enough. There’s still more to be done, and it’s not time to celebrate yet. 

His eyes scan down the sideline until they find you. 

Your heart jumps a second in your chest. He stands up straighter, despite his teammates still clinging to him, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes when your eyes meet. 

Cheerleaders take their place out onto the field, performing their numbers with loud music blaring, and the recruiters seated at their white tables get up to roam across the sidelines in discussion with referees and with Coach Yaga and with whatever players they can sink their greedy teeth into, as well as sneak at refreshments while they’re at it. You can see off to the right that Hana has reunited with Minato and she’s showing him some of the shots she took over at the opponent's side. 

UTokyo’s players start to make their way to the benches to grab for towels and drinks of water and to sprawl across in rest, and you hear loud familiar laughter approaching as you watch the players sprawl across the benches, so you avert your eyes towards the source of the sound. 

You see Gojo approaching the benches, two of his teammates slung with their arms around him in some type of adrenaline-drunken glee as they talk dramatically and theatrically which Gojo entertains with his own drunk-off-of-adrenaline glee. And you raise an eyebrow at his demeanor when he makes eye contact with you.

“There’s my freaky little photographer,” he says, and he’s standing up straight and—wait, is he puffing his chest out as he makes his way towards you? Oh for fucks sake.

Gojo has always been confident around you, for as long as you can remember, but in the fair few moments he’s been cocky, he’s been a menace. And you can only assume the testosterone-induced high of being on the verge of breaking a league record in front of the entire school then subsequently getting homiesexually praised by his teammates for the better part of the past five minutes, not to mention with the crowd and the reporters feeding his ego with a spoon across the speakers, he’s been transformed into the final boss of cocky.

His teammates surround you too, their hands on their hips as they assess you and Gojo when he meanders right up to you, arms held out to hug you, a sleazy sight you’ve seen probably six times this week, and you feel a rush of warmth in your cheeks as you place a hand on his chest to keep him away.

“You’re sweaty and gross, please stay away from me,” you reprimand him, “this is an expensive lens that is not humidity-proof.” 

“Hey, you’re the girl that Kentaro socked in the face with a ball the other day at practice, right?” one of his teammates asks, leaning in towards you to take a closer look at your face.

“Oh yeahhh, ‘cause Satoru wasn’t paying attention,” another one of his teammates chimes in teasingly, hardly heard over the loud remix playing in the background as the cheerleaders continue to perform on the field. 

You shrink a little from where you stand. Gojo’s got an irritated look on his face and he’s shrugging his teammate’s elbow off of his shoulder.

“I really hope you’re getting my good angles,” his teammate to the left comments before winking at you, and you purse your lips together. 

The one on the right leans in too, looking at your cheek with an assessing look in his eye. “At least it didn’t leave a scar on your cute face—”

Gojo shoves the both of them back and away from you by elbowing them in the chest, and they make deep eugh noises before stepping away and rubbing at their sternums with pouts on their faces.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he grumbles, “she’s mine.”

Your cheeks flush slightly with warmth at the attention, and you watch as his teammates scurry away to adhere to some social hierarchy Gojo seems to possess over them.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yours?”

“Yes. Eventually. Whatever, did you see me out there?” he turns his torso towards the field and points behind himself with his thumb, “when I—”

“Oh god, you know what’s soooooooooo super sexy to me?” you interrupt him. “When guys are humble.”

“Oh c’monnn,” he curls his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, to where you stumble a little on grass and he holds you when you fall into him with more clumsiness than grace. “Tell me you aren’t at least impressed by me.”

You pout, because you are, and you’d really like to give him some reassurance and validation, but for some reason his cocky attitude is setting you off. “Satoru,” you sigh, wiggling a little in his hug, but he holds you tighter, “I’m working right now. Cut it out.”

He lets go of you at that, sober enough from the adrenaline to realize you’re being serious, but he steps into your space so only you can hear him. “What? Are you embarrassed?”

“Of what?” Your face twists with confusion.

“Of me. Are you embarrassed of me?” he asks.

“No. Why would I be embarrassed of you?” you ask with sharpness.

“I don’t know, just, sometimes I feel like you’re always annoyed by me,” he says with a sigh. “It’s like, you’re really sweet sometimes, and then kinda rude out of nowhere, and it’s sort of messing with my head.”

You pout. “You were messing with my head for weeks.”

“And I’m sorry about that,” he quickly interjects, like he already knew you were brewing up that counterargument, “but you don’t have to act like you’re all disinterested and indifferent just to get back at me for it.” He places his hands on his hips and wipes his temple on the round part of his shoulder when he feels a drop of sweat trickle down from his hairline. “You don’t have to act embarrassed around me either.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” you deny, and your cheeks feel hot, and for some reason you feel angry. “In fact, I’m the one that should be asking you that question. Because I still very clearly remember that time you said I was just someone you know in front of your friends.”

He groans and tilts his head back with frustration. “Can you just let that go? Things have changed between us since then. Move on.” 

“You kissed me and then pretended I was just a stranger to you in front of your friends,” you grit as you cross your arms. “That’s the level of sincerity that I know from you, Satoru.”

“Oh, okay, so there’s nothing else I’ve done that shows you that I’m serious about you?” he asks rhetorically with incredulity, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.

No. That’s not true, not true at all. But he’s pissed you off now and so all logic was to the wind. “Doesn’t matter. If you’re not embarassed of me, and if you’re really serious about me this time, then fucking prove it.” You’re speaking out of spite, and you fear you’ve just set him off too.

“Fine,” he says, and he grabs the microphone straight out from a passing reporter’s hand, replacing it with a gatorade bottle. The reporter stares at the bottle he’s now holding with confusion. “I will.”

“W-Wait—” you squeak out, feeling the hair at the back of your neck bristle in anticipation and a shiver gets sent down your spine. The cheerleaders are making their way off the field at the end of their routine, and you can hear the thumps across the loud boisterous speakers when Gojo whacks his palm to the microphone to make sure the thing was on before he jogs to the center of the field.

The crowd is already cheering, ecstatic to see the afternoon's star player and pride & joy of their school, and Gojo takes a moment to soak in all the glory in comical appreciation with bowing towards all 360 degree angles of the stadium.

“Uhhh,” you hear Choso from beside you, who’s strapping his thick goalie gloves tightly to his wrists, “Why the fuck does Satoru have a microphone while standing in the middle of the field.”

“It can’t be for any publicly decent reason,” Geto muses.

All you can do is watch.

“Hi, uh,” Gojo starts, static blaring slightly across the speakers and the crowd winces with him, “sorry. I’m Satoru, Gojo Satoru, you might know me from—uh, the game you’ve been watching?”

Cheers all around, because as if a single person wouldn’t know who he is. The stands were rowdy and most definitely drunk off of sidestep beers the stadium has been serving all afternoon long. 

Gojo is about to continue speaking, when he catches sight of the table of recruiters in the corner of his eye and he turns to face them out of respect. “Oh, yeah, uh, number 10,” he tugs his jersey up at the shoulder to stretch out the fabric, the 1 and the 0 flattened in view, “division player ID 233-997. Coach Yaga keeps my business cards in his purse if you want one.”

“SAAAAATTOOORRUUUU!!!!!” you hear Coach Yaga yell from somewhere in the distance.

“Anywho,” Gojo continues, and the music dims slightly, so he glances at the stop clock on the screen, which shows him he’s got roughly five minutes left to pull off whatever idiocracy he had in mind before the second half of the game starts. “Just here to say that there’s this girl I really like.”

The crowd gets louder, almost deafening, and sonically mostly feminine in (delusional) hope he’s gonna name call one of them.

Gojo’s voice is crisp and clear through the speakers as he clarifies. “She’s standing over there,” he says as he nonchalantly points to your exact latitude and longitudinal direction, “with the big camera slung around her neck that looks like it could pull her down to the center of the earth. Yeah. She’s super cute and I really like talking to her.”

“Uh-oh,” Geto murmurs from beside you, and you glance at him to try to get a read on the situation but you can’t.

Gojo starts to pace across the center of the field now, like he’s working the crowd. “But get this—she thinks I’m not fuckin’ serious about her!!!”

The crowd groans with him in unison. Yep, most certainly drunk. Or high off of glee. Either way, he’s playing them like a violin.

“Huh?” Gojo’s voice sounds distant now, away from the mic, and you can see on the large pixelated screen that he’s being interrupted by someone that looks like one of the videographers, “oh, what’s that? This is being broadcasted? Uh-huh. Oh. I’m not allowed to cuss? Oh fuck, okay. Er— shit, okay. Wait—shoot, okay.”

Choso’s smirk is heard from beside you, and you catch Geto and Nanami shaking their heads in your periphery.

“LIKE I SAID,” Gojo continues into the mic, “the girl I like thinks I’m just messing around, so. Uh. To show her that I’m serious about her, I’m gonna…” He looks up at the sky to ponder, and you can hear people shouting all sorts of suggestions of nonsense from the crowd. And instead of saying proclaim my undying affection for her through a romantic soliloquy straight from my heart in the presence of the entire school, he says—“I’m gonna strip. Yes. Down to my tighty whities, Imma strip.”

H–

Huh?!?!?

You don’t even have time to be horrified or scared, you’re just bewildered beyond belief that that’s what he came up with.

What the fuck kind of reassurance did you ask for. And what the fuck kind of reassurance were you about to get?

The crowd goes wild, it’s no surprise to say everyone and their mothers wants to see him naked, even the straight dudes would dig it for the gym inspo. And he points straight to you, sleazy look on his face and you’re going to ignore the fact that he just winked at you too as he crosses his arms to hold the hem of his jersey and pulls it up over his head in the most raunchy and slutty way a man can take his shirt off.

The music manager is quick with the bit, and is most definitely a fellow Gen Z college student, because Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack (ft. Timbaland) starts playing across the speakers and the crowd goes ballistic.

“Ayo why’s Satoru Magic Mike’ing the field right now?” one of his other teammates calls out through a mouthful of protein bar, “What the fuck did I miss?”

The cameraman does God’s work in a hella zoom-in of Gojo’s sweat glistened abs, then pans up the naked expanse of the perfect taut skin across his chest, and you can’t help but stare even among all your horror. It’s like when a male bird embarrasses the fuck outta himself to attract a female bird sitting on a perch, except instead of within the context of a NatGeo documentary, this was your real life. Everyone wants him, but he’s making a fool out of himself for you. 

He pretends to stretch his arms up into the air, a cover-up to flex his biceps, and then he kicks his cleats off, and the socks come off too. Entirely unnecessary, as showing one's ankles is simply too slutty, but alas he’s a whore. And when his thumbs dip into the waistband of his shorts, and there’s anticipating screeching from the crowd, he finally gets chased by security. 

Except he’s an intercollegiate D1 athlete, why the fuck wouldn’t he be able to outrun a bunch of dudes in black?

The camerawork on him is phenomenal as he runs across the sidelines of the field, eliciting a wave down the bleachers. So good in fact that you’re pretty sure the camera man could shoot for the Olympic track and field, with the way the stadium’s got a clear sight of Gojo mouthing the lyrics Them other fuckers don’t know how to act from the song still blaring with satirical rage on his face as he makes a fool of the men chasing him around the perimeter of the field.

And then he does it, drops his shorts, discards them with a kick, and he’s down to his tighty whities as promised. Cameraman has got to be displaying some previously undiscovered level of talent as he zeroes in on a shot of said tighty whities, with Gojo’s—forgive me, I need to be crass—huge bulge prominent in Big Dick Energy fashion except his tighty whities have little red hearts in rows across the fabric so do with that duality what you will.

He’s outrun security with a steady grin on his face as he eats up the drunken crowd’s cheers and riots and roars and you feel like you’re the only sane person in this stadium, or maybe you’re just not used to the fanatics of a college sports crowd. You peep the men in black trailed all the way on the left side of the field where they abandoned their pursuit of Gojo.

He taps imaginary pockets at his thighs, very muscular thighs you take indulgence in noticing, as if he expected to find something there, and he looks around when he doesn’t. He shrugs and grabs the microphone of the next passing sports commentator he spots, and then he makes his way back to you.

His breathing is a little shallow, and he inhales deep to catch his breath. “Baby.” The crowd SCREAMS at the way he purrs the word into the mic. “Will you do me the honor,” he’s huffing and puffing, heard across blaring speakers, “of being my lawfully wedded girlfriend?” And then he holds the mic to your lips.

“W-Wha—” you stutter, and there’s chanting across the crowd with words that barely make sense until you finally realize they’ve started to yell say yes! say yes! say yes! “Oh my gosh, okay, yes, fine, now please, for the love of god, put some freaking clothes on!”

The crowd goes wild with cheerful glees, and Gojo shoots fists up in the air in celebration as he runs all the way towards the center of the field with high knees, and you’re gawking at the sight, before he falls backward onto the grass and makes delirious snow angels on the ground. You see Coach Yaga’s vein popping in his neck from pure agitation as he storms off towards the center of the field to knock some sense into Gojo, but you know that Coach Yaga can’t kick him out, because they still have a game to win. The perks of being the most valued player in the league is getting to act like an absolutely insane idiot because you know they still need you in the end to bring it home.

You glance to the right, seeing his teammates nodding slowly then getting back to wrapping athletic tape around ankles and stretching out shoulders, with immediate acceptance of his actions like it wasn’t even out of character for him to do. And you realize again that you don’t know Gojo as well as you think you do.

And then the halftime timer is up.

You see Gojo approach the benches in a quick jog, squeezing some water into his mouth with his green gatorade squirt bottle, and when your eyes flit up to the screens on all four entrances, you see that the cameramen are still all focused on him accompanied by the continued buzz of conversation among the crowd following his public spectacle. But he seems to already be past any semblance of embarrassment as he takes the attention with ease, before he glances up to make eye contact with you and then lightly jogs right up to you.

“Did that prove to you that I’m not embarrassed of you?” he asks you, cocking a brow with a smug look on his face as he gets all up in your personal space. 

“I don’t know, but I’m certainly thoroughly and expeditiously embarrassed of you now,” you say, cheeks feeling flush when he leans forward so he can make eye contact with you at eye level. “I’ll have to move to a different country.”

His grin is relaxed. “Yeah well you asked for it.”

“Maybe. But I underestimated what a lunatic you are.”

“You’re my girlfriend now, you’ve gotta get used to it.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. “Satoru–”

“Tomorrow,” he cuts you off, “Hinode pier. I’ll pick you up at six. It’s a date, so wear something cute. And preferably easy to take off.” And then he’s attentive to the chirp of the referee’s whistle in the air before jogging backwards towards the feel and eventually turns on his heel towards the field while you’re left with warm cheeks and a heart that felt like it was moving at a mile a minute.

The timer for the second half refreshes on the screen while you loosely hold your camera in your shaking hands. It occurs to you that you haven’t taken a single photo of him before the start of the kickoff, and so you bring the piece of consolidated metal up to your eyes, peering through the viewfinder and focusing it on the center of the field. And there he was. Your muse.

Gojo lets out a breath, which you can see even from here that it’s shaky and staggered with resistance, and he lifts his jersey up to swipe at the sweat trickling down his face as he eyes the ball underneath YCU’s player’s foot just prior to the start of the second half. There it was—that look again of pure focus. 

3-1, forty-five minutes on the clock. And the referee chirps the whistle to start the second half.

It’s immediately evident that YCU has returned to the field following halftime with renewed energy, pressing high down the flank relentlessly past UTokyo’s defense, so fast it was hard for anybody to even keep a steady eye on the ball with the fluidity of their passes. The persistence pays off in the fake double-pass that slips past Geto’s feet, a moment of hesitation in the broken flow of UTokyo’s defense, and one of YCU’s strikers has the perfect line of shot towards the goal before digging his foot under the ball and sending it flying towards the corner of the goal post, scoring themselves a goal within just the first five minutes of play.

3-2.

The pressure mounts at the next kickoff, and with about seven minutes of solid play, with back-and-forth passes, multiple attempts at both goal posts to no avail on either side, it was clear that exhaustion was bustling in the veins of all the players.

One of YCU’s offensive players seems to capitalize on this, jumping on a defensive lapse of a pass Nanami attempted to make towards Yuta, and the ball is swiftly stolen then raced back towards the goal post. Choso prepared himself at the line, light on his feet paired with a solid stance, but in a millisecond of a moment, YCU’s offense unexpectedly passes the ball to a player racing up the midfield, and the player chips the ball neatly into the exposed corner of the goal despite Choso’s attempt to lunge for it in mid air.

Equalized, 3-3 game, momentary shock across the players’ faces, and the crowd bustles with something that sounds less like glee and more life fear. YCU was prepared to live up to and hold onto their title as the league’s number one offense, and as Minato explained to you during your time working in this job, an offensive team isn’t good at scoring goals, but rather exceptional at breaking down the other team’s defense.

Your eyes zero in on Geto, who stands in the center of the field for kickoff, and he’s huffing and puffing. He's the lead of defense for the team, and you can only imagine the level of pressure he feels right now. He glances around to his players, over to Nanami who seemed to share the same level of exhaustion, and then he glances towards Gojo who stood in front of him off to the right. Except you notice that Gojo looks relaxed, albeit still exhausted, but there’s a composed expression on his face even in the moment of heightened stakes. With locked eyes, Geto nods at Gojo and raises two fingers up into the air to signal a play, of which Gojo seems to respond to by closing more distance between him and the goal post prior to the kickoff, positioning himself almost directly in front of it, to which YCU’s defense immediately begin to guard him in a tight radius. 

The kickoff begins, with Geto making a few passbacks with Nanami as they close distance towards the field before passing it off to UTokyo’s string of offense and then receding back to their defending goal. UTokyo continues to close distance, raising stakes for YCU as their defense begins to falter under pressure, and the ball gets passed to Gojo, who only keeps it in possession for less than three seconds before he passes it back to Yuuji, a risky decision to make in the second half of a semifinal match, but the first-year swiftly unleashes a powerful shot that rockets past YCU’s goalkeeper, up towards the corner, except–

It bounces off the metal of the goal post, shot off with projectile speed back towards the center of the field, but with razor-sharp reflexes, Gojo headbutts the ball in air, twists his torso and strikes the ball with his foot past a dumbfounded goalie who can’t even move an inch to guard the ball that he already knew was going to sink right into the goal, and that’s exactly what it does. 

The stadium erupts with the momentum.

4-3, UTokyo. 

It was a sweet moment, one you manage to capture on camera of Gojo running up to Yuuji and ruffling his hair in reassurance, despite the missed goal. Your heart feels warm in your chest, feeling your own sense of melancholy that this was one of the last times they’ll ever get to play together on a team. 

Your eyes widen when you glance at the scoreboard, realizing that he’s tied. Gojo is tied for the most goals scored during a championship match. There were less than three minutes left on the clock. UTokyo either preserves their lead, or they risk moving into overtime, which, judging by the exhaustion on the UTokyo players’ faces in the wake of YCU’s relentless offense this entire game, moving into overtime would be a hefty, hefty risk. 

YCU’s center forward takes his place in the center of the field, fire evident in his eyes as he glances across the field. YCU are light on their feet, channeling everything in their bodies into these last moments of the game as they prepare to start the kickoff. You glance across UTokyo’s players, and although they look spent, there was a resolute look to all of them. It wasn’t the time to give up or feel at ease even near the end of this grueling battle. Now was the time to play. 

The referee chirped his whistle, and the kickoff began.

YCU immediately presses hard, as all their other plays have been all game, in their desperation to score. You can already see UTokyo’s midfielders move sluggishly in comparison to YCU’s offense, a drag to their feet as YCU pushes past the first layer of defense towards their attacking goal. Geto takes an aggressive approach, making moves to steal the ball while Nanami and Yuta guarded both flanks, and there was a relentless pass-off happening that ate up more than a minute of the remaining time.

Nanami succeeds in stealing the ball, but immediately loses it under his feet by a YCU midfielder, who makes a broad pass down the sidelines to YCU’s star forward who then powerfully kicks the ball towards the unguarded area of their goal, a dangerous shot that was clear towards the crossbar and Choso makes a leap for it, high into the air, his glove brushing against the ball, the entire crowd holding their breath in anticipation–

And the ball lands in the net. 

4-4, tied game. With one minute and seventeen seconds left on the clock. 

There was no time wasted in getting back to center field. No time spent dwelling in the horrific roars of the crowd as they watch with anxiety and fear. No time spent to process or consider or signal any plays. Not even a single second used to catch breath. When there is this much at stake, an athlete thrives on momentum. 

To your surprise, Gojo isn’t the one that takes place at the center of the field to start the kickoff. Yuta stands there instead, and you notice his eyes are erratic as he surveys all corners of the field. 

The referee chirps his whistle. 

Yuta immediately passes it off to the side to UTokyo’s midfielder, who curls it towards their attacking goal with a swift pass to Ino, who closes distance towards the goal, but one of YCU’s defender slips in, undoing any progress they had made in their offense by stealing the ball and sending it back towards mid-field. Forty-three seconds. The crowd’s roars heightened as YCU continued to push forward, thirty yards now from scoring, and UTokyo’s defense was desperate to stop them but their momentum was cracking in the wake of their exhaustion. 

It was a moment you don’t think you could ever fully or truly recall, one that you wish you had focused all your energy and attention to so that you could commit it to memory for the rest of your life. The image of Gojo pushing all the way to ten yards before their defending goal, a place where no center forward should really be at in a game like this, but it was exactly what their defense needed. It was exactly what the team needed. It was exactly what the school needed. For the ball to be in his possession.

With twenty-two seconds left on the clock, he steals the ball from right under YCU’s offensive feet, and then charges towards the opposite side of the field. The crowd rises to their feet, thunderous roaring that overtook any and all senses, as Gojo weaves through forwards, center forwards, midfielders, and defenders, covering the entire span of the field in lightning time. Fifty yards, forty yards, thirty yards, twenty hards, ten yards–

In a moment you couldn’t believe, he digs his foot underneath the ball, and sends it flying out towards the goal. There was not even a margin of an inch in which it slipped past the goalie’s hands, past his head, and swiftly flew right into the net.

With three-two-one seconds, the match was over. 

5-4, UTokyo’s win.

The final whistle blew, and for a moment, there was silence. As if the world paused to catch its breath. Then, all at once, the crowd erupted with glee that shook the entire stadium at its core. Flags waving, scarves held high, toasts of beer held up to the sky, it was deafening, and it almost makes you want to cry. Thousands of voices shouting in unison, celebrating the hard-fought victory of their school’s team. A type of pride that was fostered, and well-deserved, and long-lived.

You quickly glance towards the field again, and see Gojo standing right at the same spot where he had kicked the last and final goal, staring towards the net. You can’t see the expression on his face, but it surprises you how still he is. Like a statue, staring at the goal with the ball tucked into its corner. The very epitome of what it means to succeed in this sport was right in front of him, and it seemed like he wanted to soak the visual in for as long as he could.

His trance is abruptly interrupted when his teammates swarm in, rushing over like a wave of pure adrenaline. They slap him on the back, ruffle his hair, shout his name, the sounds of gleeful disbelief mixed with exhausted sighs of relief swarming into the air. And Gojo finally melts away from the tension of the match and into the celebration as he weakly returns the embraces of his teammates while he catches his breath. 

“IT’S OFFICIAL!! IT’S OFFICIAL!! UTOKYO’S VERY OWN GOJO SATORU HAS OBLITERATED OSAKA UNIVERSITY’S RECORD FOR MOST GOALS SCORED BY A SINGLE PLAYER IN A CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH!!” 

The speakers are blaring the voices of the sports announcers, along with ambient music to match the intensity of the match that everyone had just witnessed. 

You should probably be doing your job. You know, take a picture of the huddle of players on the field as they bask in the glory of a close victory, but instead your feet start moving on their own. Like a magnet drawn to him, you make your way towards Gojo, only a slight hesitation in your step as you stop about ten feet away, suddenly unsure. But when he makes eye contact with you, all that fear melts away.

He hastily pats the backs of some of his teammates, acknowledging their praise at the center of the huddle before tightly squeezing past them to make his way over to you. Your heart is beating fast in your chest, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of pride in your school’s team, but more importantly, in him. What was the acceptable thing to do? Run to him, into his arms, and hug him while he twirls you around? Tackle him to the grassy ground? Kiss him like your life depended on it? You have no clue what the acceptable or sane or normal thing to do is. But he’s made his decision for you when he walks right up to you, his hands holding your waist as he pulls you towards him. He smells earthy, of grass and salt and sweat and of all the hard work he poured into today, the wear and tear of the game evident in the wear and tear of his jersey. He only manages to huff out an exhale at the sight of you, like some relief washing over him just by looking into your eyes. Forget the fact that the crowd was all watching and that all of the screens you could see past his head were focused on the two of you, because all you could hear or see or think was him.

“I believe you owe me a kiss,” he says, huffing as he catches his breath but that doesn’t stop the smile that makes its way onto his face.

You nod your head, giving him your own version of a sweet smile as your arms slide up past his shoulders, crossing behind his neck, and he leans down to kiss you.

You hear a swell from the crowd, some teasing comments off in the distance from some of his teammates, you’re pretty sure you hear Coach Yaga yelling at him to get back to the benches, but it all melts away with the feeling of him smiling against your lips as he kisses you at the center of this stadium.

It was a moment so pure, so sweet, so picture perfect, and for once, you’re not the one behind the camera taking the photo. You’re the one that’s in it.

.

.

.

.

.

[end of kickoff ch12]

a/n. aaa thanks a lot for reading!! pls the fucking public stripping scene was so stupid i apologize on behalf of kickoff gojo for his behavior 😂😂 i’ll put him in his cage dw this chapter had some of what i consider to be the most challenging aspects of writing for me (internal conflict, grand public gesture, sports jargon) and so writing it felt like an uphill battle the ENTIRE time i wrote it and edited it. i considered scrapping it sooo many times cuz i just wasn't happy w it...but whatever i can't expect to be 100% happy w every chapter i put out there haha. i think kickoff has become a lil sacred for me since i've been working on it for a while now but likeee...sometimes u just gotta say fuck it we ball (tbh kickoff gojo probably says that to himself before a match) anywho, i am veryy thoroughly excited for what i've got planned for the chapters to follow, especially moving into the last angsty arc before the end of the series!! so i look forward to picking up momentum w this series again :0 honestly chapters 10 through 12 were the most difficult things i've written so far for a lot of reasons, but i have a feeling things will go more smoothly for me creatively going forward since what i've got planned falls well within my writing comfort range oh also there seems to be a little confusion about the number of chapters left, as i know i had originally said 12, but i anticipate that there will be about 18 chapters of kickoff total!! so still around six chapters left before the end :)) much lovee thanks for reading!!

OH WAIT ONE LAST NOTE I'M SORRY i didn’t really have a way of organically incorporating this into the story n i’m not sure if i’ll get a chance to in the upcoming chapters, so i just wanted to share this part of ch7 (gojo’s pov chapter) that is relevant to this chapter:

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant. 

the record that gojo broke in this chapter is the same record that his father almost broke before he got the call that he was going to be a dad :0 

➸ you're all caught up!

additional notes. please do not pressure me for updates or ask when i will next update (read rules); taglist is currently closed (consider subscribing to the story on my ao3 for email updates if you'd like! :0)

taglist:

@megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed

@wynney @delulux3 @higurumapet @zombriesworld @xenop0p

@phoenix-eclipses @who-can-touch-my-boob @mo0nforme @reagan707 @lost-resonance

@foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @beabadobeee @thexmistress

@tsukikourito @pickuptruck01 @gabriiiiiiii @4y3sh4 @tiredflame132

@cliosunshine @btszn @izayas-rings @semra4 @ethereally-lyann

@drthymby @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010

@joemama-2 @horisdope @banenemilk @nanasukii28 @spindyl

@ri-sa20 @thexmistress @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @sashisuslover

@chwesuh-imnida @megumisthirdog @imjustaweirdnerd @angelicscribe

[taglist is closed]

[rahuratna]

Nanami Kento: Relationship Headcanons (now a fic), Part 11

Warning: MDNI!! Explicit sexual content in this chapter. Details below cut.

Contents: smut, showering together, penetrative (vaginal) sex.

He holds you back with a playful grasp on your hips, but you manage to wrangle him into the bathroom. Every touch on your skin is an alluring little reminder of what awaits you, his fingers lingering, intimate. The resistance he puts up, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and wrapping small lengths of your hair around his fingers, bringing them to his lips, has you fighting every instinct to give in to his advances.

You have never felt attraction for anyone like this before, something you are gradually coming to terms with. It's almost as if there is some gravitational force he exerts over you, the gentle, bruising weight of his presence inside you, around you, something you want to hold so desperately against yourself that you feel an almost physical pain.

The water of the shower is warm and soothing against your aching muscles, the echo of your first orgasm still reverberating through you, the soft trilling through a tuning fork, readying itself for the strike that follows. Kento doesn't join you immediately. You brush damp hair away from you brow and glance back at him, and he is leaning against the shower door, taking you in, his gaze warm and unguarded. There it is; that look that you somehow cannot believe is directed at you, that kindling that leaves your lungs questioning their function.

You reach out to him, fingers stroking down his bare chest, leaving a damp trail of invitation. He feels powerful, weighted with possibility beneath your touch. His gaze clouds slightly, and he steps in, still nude. He has nothing to hide, not from you.

Nudging you slightly until you turn away from him, he embraces you from behind. The sheer strength lying latent in those arms of his, so vital, so filled with living possibility, makes you shudder slightly. You want him to embrace you like this on every day of your future lives, to use your shoulder as a support for his questing chin, to offer him the curve of your spine to rest his tired body against.

You can feel it in the growing firmness against your inner thigh, rising. He pushes you gently away from him, grasping your bar of moisturizing soap. Facing the wall, you feel rather than hear the movements he makes over the soft patter of the warm water on your skin, the slick sounds of soap being lathered over his hands.

He isn't tired now.

His grasp is sudden, firm across your stomach, caressing with strong, deliberate strokes in ways that make your body edge towards him and your breath catch in your throat. He spreads the lather across your torso, and you can feel the hum of approval in his chest as you lean back, surrendering to his attentions.

He moves upward first, covering every inch of your skin he can reach, slipping slowly over the flesh of your breasts, cupping and smoothing until he reaches the peaks of your nipples with a soft pinch. Tracing up along your sternum, he takes the soap to your neck. You tilt your head back as his fingers scrape along your collarbone, wrapping gently around your throat, breath hot in your ear. There is something there, a written  message against your skin, fingers tightening briefly, then releasing you.

He wants more. He is now comfortable enough expressing his desire to let you know this; that he wants you pliant, slightly submissive to him, worshipping you as he takes charge.

You can give that to him. Gladly.

You trace over his knuckles lightly, showing him that you're enjoying his attentions, then apply slight pressure. You want him lower, to give the same attention to all of you. He complies with a low murmur of assent, hands now bracing on your hips, squeezing the ample flesh there appreciatively, before moving lower. The power of his grasp as his fingers dig slightly into the flesh of your buttocks has you gasping, bracing your hands on the walls of the shower.

Th soft moan that leaves you at these attentions is enough to spur him on to the final stage of your cleaning, fingers gently tracing the outline of your labia before stroking slowly over, taking his time, spreading water over the already dewy arousal that has been building to slippery slickness down there.

He pays the same dedicated attention here as he does everywhere else, massaging, capturing your flesh in the comforting prison of his palms, pausing in between to replenish the lather he spreads over you. He kneels behind you, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed, quickly forgotten as his soft, damp hair presses again the back of your thigh, breath ghosting heatedly over your sex as he strokes down each leg, committing their shape to memory.

Your breathing is ragged now, but you maintain your position, just the way he wants. Something about your obedience in this small matter seems to be riling him up, quickening his own breath. He stands, turning you around to face him, finally, making sure that the warm spray catches you everywhere. You reach for the soap, to return the favour, but he stops you. He whispers against your lips, barely audible in here, in this cocoon of steamed glass and flesh on flesh.

"Don't worry about me. You have work tomorrow. I don't."

"Are you sure?"

"I can clean myself up any time. And besides ... I  want to take you again."

He pauses, and this is the first time he has spoken his desire with such directness, such possession, his eyes trained on yours with such need that you feel consumed by him. Leaving him tomorrow morning will be the hardest trial you've faced yet.

When he kisses you, all thoughts of tomorrow fly from your mind, scattering like wheat from a thresher. You are vaguely aware of his hands pushing open the shower door, of the care he takes such that you do not slip in spite of how close he holds you, the fact that he bats the towel away from your hand and seizes you even closer, engraving his answer on the shell of your ear with such startlingly primal need.

"Darling ... please. Want to feel you wet all over, like this."

He lifts you slightly, the damp wicks of hair on his chest grazing your nipples, wet hands catching and slipping on your thighs and buttocks, electricity building like charged static between your bodies. His mouth is so hungry, so sweet, so hot, and he is kissing you like he did that time in your office. But now, there are no clothes separating your entwined forms, no propriety that stops the way his hardened cock presses and slides with the urgency to mate against your folds, no desk preventing your precipitous journey from bathroom to the bed, guided by his reinforced strength.

He only pauses to tug the towel he's somehow maintained hold of beneath you, preventing the sheets from absorbing the dampness of your still wet bodies, and then he is on you. Your body is responding to him as if the rawness of your first orgasm had never existed, thrumming with the delight of fresh arousal, the need to be filled, grasped, taken apart, fucked until you can't take any more by this man you wanted above anything or anyone else in the world.

There is a moment of crushing intimacy, when his body is pressed so completely against yours that you can't imagine being apart from him again, fingernails drawing agonizing lines against each other's skin, and then something seems to click in his mind and he pushes himself up and away, a startled realization building behind the lustful haziness that has overtaken him.

"I ... wait. We need protection."

The tension releases from your frame in a breathless sound of protest, as he draws back hastily with a somewhat tortured expression.

"Kento ... please tell me you brought ... "

"Yes, my love, I did, just - "

You raise yourself slightly, watching the taut lines of his incredible backside flex as he marches over to the hallway where he'd dropped his jacket somewhere on the way to the bedroom. He snatches it up, and a quick rifle through an inner pocket produces the gleaming wrapping of what he's been searching for.

You cock an eyebrow at him.

"Just one?"

He glances up at you, and you watch with delight as that same subtle reveal of mischief in his natural stoic expression is echoed by the unfolding of a whole row of condoms, maybe six in total, as they tumble downwards in a joined section from the first.

"Of course not. Do I ever come unprepared?"

You purse your lips, shoulders shaking with laughter as he detaches one with a flourish and makes his way back to you, carefully removing the wrapper. When he reaches you, you sit up quickly, wrapping your fingers round his wrist, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, reminding him that you are also here to please him.

He takes a shuddering breath, silky, hardened flesh twitching in your palm as you unroll the condom over his length, stroking him with a gentle roll of your fist. His hand slips behind your neck, large palm rising until his fingers are entangled in your damp hair, tugging with eager, but gentle insistence. You allow yourself to be pulled back against the towel, moaning slightly as he covers your body with his, the slick coolness of the condom warming against your folds as he rubs, hard and intentional, against you.

He is panting again, losing himself in the sensation of you, taking control of your body further as he presses you into the mattress. You bless the instinct he has for pure sensuality as his skin, still damp from the shower, slides against yours, bringing you to the height of sensitivity.

Your legs open for him further, and he grunts, adjusting your position so that he can kiss you with messy fervour, rocking his hips against yours, drawing small cries and gasps from your lips. Your fingers are drawing lines of fire against his shoulders, begging him for more, and he complies. You are both operating on pure desire, fueled by an incredible need that blazes under your skin and out, over the shifting, press of hard and soft, wet and tacky, teeth and tongue.

He pauses, breathing hard, his hair tickling your forehead, and then, with agonizing slowness, presses his tip into your entrance. Your mouth opens in pained delight, body tensing reflexively, then relaxing. He is watching you with those beautiful hazel eyes, adoring, even now, misty with uncontrolled lust. He watches as he pushes further, as your head snaps back, a mix of scream and groan escaping your throat as he fills you, stretches you, feels you fluttering around his steely length in that contradictory mix of resistance and eagerness.

He is whispering soft, sweet nothings of encouragement and praise, shifting his hips, reaching down to grip your inner thigh and hold you open for him.

"Th - that's it, sweet love. Like that. Take me - oh. Oh fu - yes. So sweet. So tight. Let me - "

Your mind is barely functioning as he presses himself in, but there is enough coherent thought left to match the effort he is putting in to keep you with him, connected and focused on him.

"Oh God, sweet - fucking - ah. Angel, you're doing so well, I - "

"Y - yes, Kento, need you, need you so - please. Inside me."

"Right th - ah! Ahh, please. Oh God, like that. Want you ... want you, Kento. Stretch me like that - "

He is a large man, no doubt, and you can feel the full extent of that when the light scattering of hair around his base lightly brushes against your sensitive lips, cock bottoming out inside you, flesh bending and flexing hard against the yield of your soft walls. You are so wet that the slide of his entry pushes some of your slick out, and you feel it trickling down the side of you. He does too, and an explosive groan leaves him, his hips bucking forward in a way that makes you yelp and press your palm against his abdomen.

He isn't hurting you; you're much too wet for that, but he is slightly overwhelming, not just in sensation, but the idea behind this, that it is him, Kento, this deep inside you, his arousal keeping you stretched and open like this, his desire for you pressing you down into the bed under his powerful body. Panting, you meet his gaze, your own face flushed and drunk on passion, lip caught between your teeth, sweat now gleaming between the rapid rising and falling of your peaked, hardened nipples.

For the first time, you see Kento really and truly lose his restraint and control, even after everything you have already done with him.

He makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a rough grunt, hands closing like a vice on either side of your waist as he tugs you towards him, and then up, your back arching off the mattress under his guidance. He begins a slow, but punishing pace, drawing back and plunging back in, taking his pleasure, filling your mind with a white static haze that lifts and brushes against the edge of your awareness like a soft, lace curtain, blowing inward against you with every thrust. His movements inside you are a contrast to the uncontrolled manner with which his hands explore your body, greedy, desirous, taking everything he can.

And you'll give it to him.

As overwhelming as he is, you learn his body, his movements. You brace your hands on his shoulders, and he's strong enough to take your full weight, even as you all but hang from him. The arch of your back becomes a sinuous wave, rolling upwards to meet the press of his hips, his lips whispering the litany of a prayer into the curve of your throat before you undulate away from him, then back. It is a cycle of catch and release, the slick sounds between your bodies growing, sweat and the remaining dampness from the shower glistening on your skin and his.

His hands slide beneath your buttocks, fingers digging into your flesh, his grunts evolving to fully fledged groans and huffs. Neither of you is capable of coherent speech now, your movement reduced to that most basic and primal need, to be closer, closer, closer, deeper inside the very fabric of each other. Your eyes flutter open briefly, taking in his face between the dark lines of your lashes. Dampness is building at the corners of your eyes, but not enough to blur out the sight of him, the sinew standing out on his neck, the pureness, keen as a knife edge, of the ecstasy in his expression.

And at that moment, his eyes open, and you fall head first into the honey of that gaze of his.

Your perfect rhythm stutters, and you know it can't sustain itself forever, as much as you want it to. You can feel it in that wild stab of bone-deep pleasure, the heat building in your abdomen, the ache of your trembling thighs.

He pulls you towards him, moving backwards and you cry out as he presses somewhere new, deeper, in this sitting position. Your fingers scramble for purchase on his shoulders, and he soothes you with soft, wordless whispers as his pace slows, still buried inside you. You release him, hands flying behind you to find leverage on his thighs, lifting naturally off him until only the tip of him remains inside. You glance down at him, body quivering, the stretch and burn of him reduced down to the most beautiful fullness.

He looks at you as if you have brought the stars down into the bedroom, revolving around you both in an endless stream, and you know. You know then, that the sight of him, the feel of him, will be with you forever, as you will be with him. That he is committing this sight to memory, so that it will sustain him when you are not there, when distance, violence, the implosion of your world by forces beyond your control are all that remains. But so will you.

And you take the reigns he hands you now.

You bring your body down again, filling yourself with him. His hold on you is more supportive than guiding, and you bury him to the base, lips touching his briefly. You're close enough now to feel the deep, rumbling groan that bursts from him as you roll your hips, allowing his cock to slip out almost fully, before the return of your circular motion takes him back in. The stretch is even greater now, but you're riding him through it, using the muscles of your lower back to lift, swivel, release and again, and again, and again.

His moans become delirious, his arms looping behind you to pull you against him, so that every new movement of your body has your nipples brushing against the hard planes of his chest. The water of the shower has dried on the both of you, leaving new moisture in its wake. The slippery heat of you makes the most obscene noises as you take him, your cries building, building, like the billowing cloud of a dust storm against the horizon of your bedroom walls, a promise of blinding finality.

The world shifts, and you think for a moment that the pleasure has made you pass out, but then your back hits the mattress and he is above you again, snatching complete control away from you. And now his hands are beneath and behind your knees, lifting, and your cries are fevered, uncontrollable, as he drives into you once more. The hard drag of his sculpted abdomen against your pubic bone is pushing you steadily over the edge, your clit stimulated to an unbelievable peak of raw pleasure. Your fingers clutch helplessly at his chest before dropping, slipping around and behind him, dragging him further into you even as you scream for him to stop, no please, can't take any more, can't feel this, too much, its so good, love, love, love you, and -

The storm hits, and your body shakes like a leaf in a gale force wind, each shuddering wave catching you so hard that you can barely breathe, think, see, but you can feel. It's as if the synapse of every nerve has collectively fired an overload into the next, volley upon volley crashing through you as he calls your name, desperate, loving, pleading. You're unable to answer him, but your arms do the work for you, crushing him against you, fingers tangling in his soft, soft hair as you hiccup into his ear, dampness sliding down your cheeks.

The vice grip you have on him brings him down with you, and he roars in your grasp, powerful thighs trembling as his feet dig into the mattress. His chest is heaving against you, face twisted in such complete, unguarded bliss that you can't help the dizzy smile that breaks across your face. Something warm is building inside you, the tip of the condom swelling slightly. Kento plants his arms on either side of you, forehead resting against yours, the hot dampness of his exhalations spreading over your cheeks.

Is this what it feels like, you wonder, as he slumps slightly against you, careful even now not to place his full weight on you.

It is like this, that it happens? That the slide of his rough palm against your cheek, stroking away the moisture, becomes indispensable to you? That the heat of him, the heavy warmth of his body against yours, now so familiar, becomes an indelible mark on the canvas of your life?

It is perhaps here, in the glide of your hands across the broad expanse of his back, soothing the angry lines you've drawn there earlier? Is this how intimacy is born, and remains until we draw our last breaths, remembered forever in the rhythm of hushed, synced breathing, the secret veil that covers your tangled limbs.

This is how Kento becomes your lover, and you his. This is how he lays claim to your body, through every touch of his lips and hands, every stroke of his flesh inside yours. This is how you stay with him, until the small hours of the dawn, breathing in his scent, cradling his head against your stomach, whispering about a future neither of you can be sure about, but desire above all else.

This is how he kisses you, when the sun rises, burnishing his hair and eyelids with a patina of russet gold. The light pours through your fingers, spilling out across the forest-flecked tapestry of his soft, soft gaze and you are richer, in that moment, than anyone on earth. 

[bluukive]

•NANAMI THOUGHTS• (sfw)

Just thinking about my (2nd) favourite jjk man who comes home after work, all tired and quiet.

♡♡♡♡

Nanami's already pulling his tie loose around his neck with his large, warm hands the second he shuts his front door behind him. Soft sighs leave his lips as he neatly puts away his belongings and spends the rest of his evening reading a book in bed.

Or maybe he has a lover for him waiting at home, who's so eagerly pampering him because he deserves nothing but the best. He's already peppering soft kisses across your face as you help him out of his suit.

Perhaps you're pecking his face instead as he settles in bed for the night. The only sounds to be heard are gentle yawns and quiet murmurs as you reassure him that he's doing so well for the both of you.

You can see how sleepy Nanami looks, his eyes all lidded and voice all raspy. So you pull him to your chest and let him feel the gentle rhythm of your heartbeat as you both drift off to sleep.

Nanami's hands are big on the curve of your back. He squeezes your hips occasionally. Sometimes, your waist. Wherever it is, his hands don't leave you all night. You make him feel safe and secure when you're in his arms, or when he's in yours.

He sleeps soundly throughout the entire night in your arms, no longer needing to wake up to silence since you're there to keep him warm.

♡♡♡♡

Idk what this is. I'm not the best with words. Hopefully, someone likes it !! Interactions and feedback welcome :>

[carbondioxidewater]

The Beauty of the Undead

Vampire!Gojo x female!reader

genre: romance, fluff, angst, au but few parallels to gojo's canon trauma, smut (at the end)

word count: 13.3k

A cold breeze spreads through the bodies of people passing by. The white flakes descending from the sky, you find smoke from people's mouths dissolving into the air.

The cold brings out the dark creatures, for in the cold it is dark. The warmth your cloak provides is almost comparable to the temperature of your body, the flowing, pure blood in your veins that attracts these creatures.

It is your blood in particular, this fragrant, delicious potion, that attracts a man who has such flawless white skin, almost identical to fragile porcelain, more beautiful than any human should be, and whose eyes flash in the night with such intensity that no human could possess in life.

But you do not notice the staring presence of this man's almost obsessive pursuit - not until that one day. It was just before midnight, you were about to let the blinds of your bedroom cover the window when you spotted a silhouette in the distance on the deserted street through the glass. It was standing sideways, its head tilted towards you even before you noticed it, the shine of its white hair easily confused with the sparkling snow. Glowing eyes stared deep into yours.

Despite the horror-like atmosphere that this motionless standing on the hard asphalt was supposed to create, you were not afraid. It was as if the being could infiltrate your inner being and speak to it. And it made you feel like you didn't have to be afraid.

But all of this happened in a tiny moment, just a blink on your part and the figure you had seen from the height of your apartment vanished as if swallowed by the earth. It happened in such a hurry that you weren't sure if you had maybe just imagined it.

But you hadn't. Because in the months that followed, the mysterious being, who always disappeared so quickly when you noticed him, and you crossed paths again and again.

Whether it was day or night, he followed you without showing himself too much, let alone getting close enough for you to make out anything more than his dark robes. It made you feel a little uncomfortable, like the prey of a predator examining it, but at the same time, after a while, you noticed a certain comfort spreading through you whenever you felt his presence. As if this uneasy demeanor scared away the real dangers of this world. You didn't know if that was a good or bad thing, but since he stayed away from you for the most part, you didn't worry any longer.

That is, until he didn't anymore, of course.

He followed you when you went to work during the day and he followed you when you walked home on another lonely night, but most importantly - he followed you into the depths of your dreams.

It was another peaceful winter night, you slept soundly and dreamed of the mysterious man. It was a nightmare, the man came towards you so fast and with such a terrible grimace of hunger that it threatened to tear you in two, to brutally tear you apart, before you woke up drenched in sweat.

In your dark room you only saw the man's eyes reflecting in the soft moonlight. You screamed a cry of terror when he was already gone again. You looked around you, to your left and right along the corners of your room, but the man was no longer to be seen.

The feeling of being watched disturbed your sleep more often from then on, but you never saw that figure in the comfort of your room again. You always woke up from a seemingly non-existent aura, always striving to go back to sleep.

You started looking for him, trying to get closer to him, but you failed miserably.

Until one day, when he loosened the chains of his distance and you suddenly felt him right behind you on the street in front of your house. You turned around, your heart racing because of the oppressive feeling, and there he was - motionless and with no intention of retreating. You were in such panick that your legs threatened to run away, but you were too scared to move. At the same time, you were eager to finally find out who or what he was.

He stood there, rooted to the spot, the black hat covering the upper half of his face. You had just returned from meeting your friends and started looking out for that familiar silhouette when the dark, attractive sound of his voice reached you.

"Looking for me?" was what he simply said.

He tilted his head up and for the first time you could really see him, a slight smirk on his face before it neutralized again at your gaze.

His skin was so clear that it was almost shining and long luscious white eyelashes adorned his eyelids. His lips were the only thing on him that had a vital color to them, they were almost as red as blood, albeit paler. His whole appearance was pure harmony - his silky blouse that highlighted his neck, the black cloak that hugged his shoulders.

A strong, dangerous aura emanated from him and despite his beautiful, fragile-looking body, he was equipped with many muscles. You couldn't understand how someone could look so delicate and powerful at the same time. But he was beautiful, very beautiful, probably the most beautiful being you had ever seen.

He looked almost like a noble gentleman from ancient times, but the most frightening thing were his sparkling blue eyes. They were so bright that you didn't dare to look into them for more than a few seconds, because their gaze was so intimidating that you suddenly felt like the smallest being in the universe.

"W-why are you following me?" you stuttered with a dry throat and he prepared to answer.

"A girl like you shouldn't walk around alone at night. It's dangerous." his voice sounded so deep when he took a step towards you, your bodies almost touching.

Then, something started to run out of you. It didn't take long for you to notice what it was - blood. You must have gotten your period earlier because of the stress.

All of a sudden his eyes turned blood red and he no longer seemed as calm and collected as he had a few moments ago. The gentleness of his body quickly changed into bestial behavior. The veins on his neck were tense, protruding and throbbing - his Adam's apple was the same. You could practically see his pulse with your naked eye and your whole body shuddered. When he started panting in and out threateningly, as if he had to suppress something inside of him, you saw fangs grow between his lips.

You screamed in fear and he turned away from you in shame, his head tilted sideways. You immediately regained the ability to move and you used it without hesitation to quickly run to your front door and sprint up the stairs. When you were in your apartment and looked out of the window to the spot where you had been standing just a few moments ago, it was deserted. Once again, the mysterious man had disappeared without a trace.

After that, you didn't see him again for a month.

The next month, you lay in bed, drenched in sweat. You had caught some kind of infection that was making you suffer more than usual. It was unbearable, you think had never been so immobile before. It had to be something serious.

When the doctor came, he confirmed your suspicions. It was something with your lungs, but you couldn't even pay enough attention to his words due to your bad condition. He gave you the necessary medication, but no matter how well you followed the instructions, it didn't help.

One day, you coughed blood, a bad sign, and when the days went by, you soon gave up the hope of getting better.

The worst thing is you couldn't even grieve your own life, too weak to mourn after your upcoming loss, too weak to properly say goodbye. You thought that soon, it would be over for you. And you couldn't do a thing about it.

And then one night he came into your room. You were just tormenting yourself in your sleep when you subconsciously felt like you were being watched. You weakly opened your eyes and he was standing at the foot of your bed, silent.

Your pulse immediately rose, afraid of the stranger who, however, never intended to harm you. You were in what was probably the most vulnerable moment of your life, unable to defend yourself when his voice interrupted your train of thought.

"Don't be scared. I will not harm you." he said in a clear tone. The melodious sound reverberated through your whole body and made you shudder with intensity.

You didn't notice, but he was suddenly next to you, cupping your cheek softly with his ice cold hand and looking down at you somewhat tender.

"...I could never harm you." he said in a deep, quiet voice. Suddenly he sounded vulnerable and that calmed you down.

He stroked your forehead and felt the heat, his mouth opened slightly in shock.

"Your condition is worse than expected." he voiced and this statement caused an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach.

"I can help you." he then declared and you looked up at him innocently, surprised by his offer.

"My abilities allow me to release antibodies in your blood, if you want me to."

You didn't know exactly what he meant and furrowed your brows in confusion.

"And what do you expect in return?" you asked weakly, suspicious of his selflessness.

"Believe me, I already get more than enough from that." he smiled kindly.

You watched his expression before nodding hesitantly. If your condition was as bad as you fear, you didn't have anything to lose anyways.

"Please forgive me for this."

Those were his last words before he suddenly came very close to you and gently tilted your neck in the opposite direction. He hesitated for a moment, gave you one last pityful look before forming his fangs and reddish eyes and biting directly into the veins that surrounded your neck.

At the contact you jumped up in panic and pain, the stinging in your throat so burning that the arm that is not suppressed by his body flied into the air. He reacted quickly, however, wrapping his wrist around yours and squeezing it a little eagerly back on the mattress next to your head. His hold was strong.

At that moment, you didn't know if he was sucking the life out of your veins or the virus.

But the next moment, the sudden improvement in your body told you that it was the latter. It happened so quickly, you felt him literally sucking the germs out of you and with every sip you felt the illness leaving your body - almost the same effect that pain killers had.

You heard him gulp and sometimes even moan in satisfaction and you couldn't help but feel electrified by his deeply arousing sounds.

After a while, he let go of you somewhat reluctantly and when your eyes met his glowing, euphoric face, the dark veins spreading under his eyes and his blood-soaked lips, tingling sensations spread through your body. This sight went straight to your core.

He looked at you completely out of breath, sensitive and saturated, brows tilted upwards and mouth opened as if he just experienced the biggest high until you see black in front of your eyes and he realizes that he stopped too late.

In the following time you thought a lot about him, about the threatening aura and the seemingly absent threat. Something inside you wanted to see him again, to enjoy this indescribable beauty once more. He just wouldn't let you go.

Until you came out of the bathroom one night - your white nightgown enveloping your body - and he stood in your living room. Your eyes immediately widened, but his seductive voice drowned out the loud beating of your heart.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you again." he affirmed in a guilty tone that surprised you.

"I know." is the only thing you mumbled in response. He said nothing more.

Instead he came towards you, the lightness of his steps made it seem like he had been here a thousand times already.

He was now standing in front of you and his eyes penetrating yours casted such a spell on you that you thought you were losing yourself in them. It all seemed so alluring, as if you were caught in a kind of trance and only wanted to live under his gaze, otherwise you would never be happy again. The intense blue is so wide and deep that you couldn't find your way out of it. He took you in with the same speed in which he always disappeared.

"What's your name?" you finally asked, quietly, and he seemed surprised by the question.

"Gojo. Satoru Gojo." he replied and you were amazed.

"Satoru Gojo..." you repeated.

For a moment, everything was quiet and he studied your face. He couldn't decipher your expression.

"Now you know for sure what I am, and you're afraid of me, even though I seem so attractive to you."

You just shook your head.

"I'm not afraid of you." you said quietly and it's true, because in the time you had to think, you realized that he had never done anything that gave you a reason to fear him. He followed you, but you felt strangely protected, as if he was protecting you from all the real threats as your personal shield.

His hard, strong body then caught your attention, half lidded eyes almost undressing him. At the sight, the blood rushed to your cheeks and you blushed abruptly. You tried to get closer to him, to bathe more in his glory, but he quickly turned away from you and ran somewhere else. He suddenly seemed so disheartened.

You followed him with your gaze, fascination written all over your face before you followed suit with your steps.

"You're not in your right mind." he said, his back to you.

You shyly denied it, but couldn't say anything else, just followed him like a dog follows its owner. You didn't even notice you were moving out of the building and into the darkness of the outside world.

"Look at you, following me, without any hesitation. Without the freedom to decide for yourself."

But something inside you knew that wasn't true.

"What are you talking about, I'm here because of my own free will."

He laughed. He laughed so loudly and dangerously and seductively that you were completely unsure what you should feel - fear or excitement. It almost sounded mocking.

"You don't believe that yourself. Look around, where are we?"

"In my ho-"

Only now did you notice that you were in the forest. For a moment you were afraid again. He sensed it.

"This is all natural. The purpose of my body is to allure, to seduce you. Just so I can kill you better. Even though I wouldn't have trouble doing so anyways, considering I'm superior in every way."

You shook your head and your eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

He came towards you and leaned against the tree, his arm propping up over your head and his massive body caging you in.

"You're scared." he remarked.

"But not of you, of the fact that I didn't notice my surroundings." you replied.

He sighed before looking down at you again, moving closer to you under him until your faces were just a few inches apart.

"Everything about you makes me want to hurt you. To feed off of you. You don't even realize what a temptation you are." he voiced in a low tone.

It caught your breath briefly when his fingers wandered along your neck. You took his hand into yours and he turned his gaze away from your neck and instead focused on your eyes again. His own widened a little at this action.

"You told me yourself that you wouldn't do this."

"Don't be scared. I will not harm you." were his words back then.

"Maybe I only said that to gain your trust and make you compliant."

You shook your head again.

"If that was the case, it would contradict everything you said about the alleged natural attraction. You wouldn't have to gain my trust if I'm not able to resist your charm anyways."

He was shocked at your wits and brilliant observation. But he didn't want to give in. He couldn't.

"I lured you into the woods with that intent."

"I don't believe you. You saved me." you said again, this time more convinced than before.

"Maybe I'm just playing a game to spice things up." His deep voice murmured, a wide smirk on his face.

You shook your head stubbornly and prepared to speak once more, but Gojo interrupted your plan by roughly placing both of his arms next to your head. The sudden harshness made you wince. He twisted his face in anger, struggling to hide his distress. Being so close to you was driving him crazy.

"I've known you for a very long time. Your gentle face, your soft hair, even your intoxicating lips make me drunk with desire."

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucked it behind your ear and continued.

"I dreamed of you. I saw your face in the stars. I don't know if I imagined it, if my skilled eyes betrayed me with their high efficiency, but I spent many nights looking up to the sky in hopes of seeing that same constellation once again. It was like a curse never finding your existence. I seeked you for decades. And now I look into the eyes I longed to see for so long - and am perceived by them in equal measure - and I am filled with nothing but shame, facing you like this, as such a hideous being."

You were shocked at this confession, red tint creeping up on your face, but his last words outraged you.

"Don't talk like that, you are not hideous."

"Look at me! Just being near you is enough to drive me mad, to grow my fangs. Look into my bloodthirsty eyes and tell me that I don't disgust you!"

You stared into his eyes, which were now indeed red again and caused the dark veins under his eyes to emerge.

"You are beautiful." you whispered and held his face in your hand. He gently pushed it away.

"I thirst for your blood. I have never tasted blood so addicting before. I am not human. I feed on them. How can I be beautiful to you? You should be afraid of me."

And suddenly a bow shot into your immediate vicinity. It was heading straight for you, but before it could hit you, Gojo caught it in his hand. You looked at him full of admiration, an expression that contrasted this dangerous situation.

"A vampire hunter." he explained, more to himself than to you, but still with the intention of enlightening you.

"How can I be afraid of someone who saves my life again and again?" you whispered to him. He looked at you briefly before picking you up by the back of your knees and armpits and carrying you away with quick steps. You have never experienced such speed before, the cool wind warm like steam compared to the arctic temperature of Gojo's pale body.

To be held by his strong grip, pushed against his frosty figure made you shiver from bliss, it felt like ice melting on your overheated skin, cooling you down; felt like he was capturing you in his entity, embracing and swallowing you wholly. And you had no objections, you would give yourself to him willingly, because it feels good, it feels ecstatic.

Before you could soak yourself in him further, he interrupted your thoughts.

"...I'll bring you back. When I'm gone, you'll think differently about me. Right now, my presence is just manipulating your inner self."

But that wasn't true. All the beautiful words he said to you, all of his generous actions kept you feeling like that. You yearned for him and it hurt every second that he hadn't come to see you for so long, now that he had awakened those feelings in you.

In an instant it was clear to you why he was so depressed. He thought your feelings weren't sincere, just a product of him being a vampire. He wanted to prove it to you so miserably, wanted to give up his own feelings for your safety and happiness.

Immediately and without a second thought you ran out of your apartment and into one familiar direction: the forest. If that's where vampires lure humans into, if that's where vampire hunters reside, then maybe it would bring you to him. It's just a theory, but it's based on his behaviour last time and that makes you feel positive. Why else would he have brought you into the woods?

You're lucky that the forest was not far away from your house, you only ran about 5 minutes until you were there. Snow covered your hair and shoulders when you arrived and you didn't know what to do now, coming here without a plan. The sun was setting slowly, so you hurried starting to walk deeper into the woods to look for any sign of his presence.

After a while, probably 30 minutes into your pursuit, you noticed that the day was slowly coming to an end. You were not brave enough to be alone in a forest at night, where - and you only thought about this now - there could be other vampires wandering around.

You were just turning into the direction you came from when you heard a noise. Something was coming towards you. Fast.

Before you could even turn around, you were cornered from the front. In front of you stood a huge wolf, its mouth with its gnashing teeth bigger than your own head, its growling loud and dangerous. At the sight you were filled with fear. You screamed reflexively while tears formed in your eyes. It prevented you from moving on, its legs were spread out to hold you in place.

Suddenly, another figure sprinted towards your position. Your pulse rose and you quickly regretted your decision to come here.

But to your surprise, it was the object of your little quest itself that was heading towards you. Soon, Gojo came out from between the trees and bushes, wrapped his arms around you and situated himself protectively in front of you, his back facing the wolf.

"She's not one of the hunters." he then called out to the wolf and its gaze softened as it watched you more closely. It looked as if it had confused you with someone else and quickly retreated.

Then Gojo finally turned his head to you, the moment you were waiting for. His beautiful face twisted in worry as he stroked yours with his thumb, examining your body to make sure you were unharmed.

"Are you okay?" he then asked and stared into your eyes with his usual intensity. You needed a moment to recover from the sight, briefly lost in his blue gaze, and answered him.

"I'm fine." you said, still a little shaken by the shock.

His face relaxed and he closed his eyes in relief before his eyebrows quickly drew together again.

"What are you doing out here, it's dangerous!" he exclaimed reprimandingly.

"I was looking for you..." you said quietly and your head sank in humiliation. This is the third time that Gojo saved your life. You felt so weak.

His gaze softened at your confession and his eyes widened from the warmth that flowed through him.

"You put yourself in danger for me?"

You looked away in embarrassment in response.

He smiled slightly before the look on his face darkened and he held you tightly to him, his hand pushing your head, his other arm pulling your body against him and his eyes pressed shut.

"Never do that again. I could never forgive myself if something happened to you." his voice cracked and you just stood there completely dumbfounded before you too began to wrap your hands around his torso. You stayed like that for a while, then Gojo took you by the hand and looked into the forest.

"We should get out of here before any more hunters come."

"Why are you here if it's so dangerous for you?" you asked thoughtfully.

"My estate is here. Far on the edge of the forest, they can't find their way there. Those who don't know the way get lost."

"Are they normal people?" was your next question, because now it was you who was worried about his well-being.

He smiled weakly to appease you.

"Yes, don't worry, they can't do much to me except decorating me with temporary wounds."

Then he continued.

"I said they're vampire hunters, but that's only half true. They hunt werewolves too."

"Wait, that was a werewolf? A human?" you were surprised, but now it made sense that he was so big and could understand Gojo.

Gojo nodded.

"Humans like to kill for pure entertainment - they see death as a kind of trophy. That's why the curse of the undead unleashed - to restore the balance."

You listened with interest and absorbed the new information. Then you asked another question, eager to learn more about this wondrous world that had been so closed to you until now.

"What about the werewolves, how do you get along? You're in the same boat after all, right?"

"We're not enemies, but we don't like each other very much either. Someone like me is unnatural to them, but they tolerate our existence. Well, to a certain extent at least. They understand the need for harmony."

You nodded in understanding and he let the subject rest.

"But now let's go." he said and picked you up on his back, his strong arms supporting your seat. You placed yours around his neck and couldn't help but notice his broad, muscular shoulders as well.

His back narrowed around his waist and his biceps flexed every once a while from carrying you. The part you touched with your hands and arms was hard and impressive beneath your fingertips, revealing to you his supernatural strength that was otherwise concealed beneath his princely appearance.

His body was your absolute desire. When you noticed that your legs were wrapped around his torso, you wondered what it would be like if you weren't sitting on his back but instead at the very front. The thought got you heated up and resulted in you squirming.

"Are you okay?" he asked genuinely, completely oblivious to your erotic thoughts.

You hid your face in his neck out of nervousness, muttered a small "yes" and he started the way back to your home with you as ballast. In this position you could smell his scent, it was a combination of sensual sweetness and manly musk and this mixture made your mouth salivate. Even though you enjoyed his company, you hoped the way back wouldn't last long because his effect on you seemed so embarrassing.

The next day, an unknown man came up and spoke to you. He was very broadly built and his muscles were clearly visible through the tight compression shirt. His massive chest looked like it was about to burst out at any moment. He also wore light gray loose pants around his waist. His hair was black, just like his shirt. A scar adorned his mouth and he had a smug expression on his face.

He introduced himself as Toji and it turned out that he was the werewolf from last night. He apologized profoundly and assured you that he never intended to scare such a beautiful girl. His flirtatious nature left you cold.

"I've come to warn you." he then said sternly, the sudden change startling you. You were curious to hear what he had to say.

"The man you've been with yesterday, do you know what he is?"

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Of course I do."

"Then you should understand that you better keep your distance."

You were speechless, but he kept talking.

"He's not human. You don't belong together, that's unnatural. Sooner or later he'll kill you, we both know that."

That made you angry.

"Oh, because werewolves are so natural! You were the one almost killing me yesterday, not him!"

"Touché." he smirked. "But at least I'm still human. You'd be better off with me."

Suddenly he wrinkled his nose in a sniffing manner. He looked down at your hand, an eye-catching ring attracting his attention. He grabbed your hand and took a closer look at it.

"He marked you."

You quickly pulled your hand out of his grasp before defending yourself.

"Listen, I don't know why you think that is any of your business, but it's not."

"It is my business because I'm worried about you."

"Don't bother, I'm fine."

"Alright." he held up his hands in retreat. "But don't say I didn't warn you. If you ever change your mind, my offer still stands." he smirked.

"No thanks, I refuse."

And then you left him alone.

"Good luck." he called after you.

When you met Gojo again later - he basically teleported himself back into your own four walls - he startled you. Would you ever get used to this?

"You smell like wolf." he discovered disapprovingly, looking at you rather annoyed.

"No hello?" you smiled to lighten the mood, but it was no use. His expression remained unchanged. You sighed and gave him an explanation.

After he listened to you, he stared out the window for a few minutes without saying a word, his head tilted to the side. You thought it best to switch topics.

"The ring you gave me yesterday...you said it would protect me, right?"

He narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, why? Did the wolf mention something?"

"He said you marked me. What does that mean?"

He remained silent for a moment and then sat down next to you on the couch.

"It's filled with my venom. It keeps predators away. But since it's not directly injected into your body, its effect is weaker. He probably smelled it." he explained.

You nodded. Now he too breathed in the surrounding scent through his nose. But he said nothing else.

He closed his eyes and sank back into thought. He almost looked...sad.

A few days passed without you seeing him. It was eating you up from the inside. Without him, all things lose their meaning. On the fifth day, you couldn't take it anymore. You gave him your word that you would never expose yourself to danger again. But this was an emergency. Why didn't he pay you a visit?

Maybe you were delusional, maybe you were out of your mind, but your feet brought you to the woods again.

The repetitive, barely distinguishable trees around you significantly weakened your sense of direction and made it harder for you to search for the attractive bloodsucker.

But once you turned around a corner on a path, you saw him, without his cloak and only clad in a white blouse that was not sewn up to his stomach and thus did not cover the middle of his chest. The last weak rays of sunlight in this snow-covered winter landscape colored his skin almost gold, almost transparent, so penetrable were they. It looked like the wet sand in the sea, illuminated by the hot reflection through the water.

But you noticed his absent-minded gaze - directed entirely towards the ground. And when suddenly the shadows of some branches made his body stop glowing and you could see his skin in its vulgar form, you could no longer believe your eyes. He was covered with several small wounds, it seemed as if they came from arrows. You quickly ran towards him and shouted his name.

At the sound of your troubling voice he looked up in shock. When you were in front of him he just looked at you blankly.

"You promised me you wouldn't do that." He was referring to you putting yourself in danger.

"How was I supposed to keep my promise without you at my side to remind me?" you replied angrily. "What happened to you? Why are you so hurt?"

He didn't bat an eyelid before answering.

"Go home. I don't want you to see me like this. Just forget about me."

A stab went through your heart and you immediately felt sick to your stomach.

"I could never do that. What's wrong with you? Why are you suddenly saying these ugly words to me that I don't want to hear?"

"We don't belong together. We should have never met. I'm the one to blame, but I won't let myself drag you into damnation any more."

"Damnation? Thanks to you, I've escaped it more than once! My life has never been better than when you joined it!" your arm shot out to the side to reinforce your argument. With this action, Gojo's focus slipped to the ring around your finger.

"Now it's my turn to help you. Let me treat your wounds." but he slapped your hand away, which was reaching out to him.

"I don't care about the wounds. They are a sign of my remorse." His gaze was still on your ring.

He laughed crazily.

"How easily his smell overpowers mine. It is as if it was just natural that you belong together."

You were confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"The werewolf. Or as you know him, 'Toji'." he managed to say. "He is interested in you. I could sense it." he then spat out, the newly found information taking you by surprise.

"I- I don't care. I am not interested in him. He is pushy and bold and irritat-" At that, Gojo interrupted you.

"Pushy? Did he do something to you?" Gojo's eyes filled with anger. You shook your head and you felt relief coming over him.

"I don't particularly like him. But he is right, you shouldn't be with someone like me. You deserve a better life."

"Did he tell you that?" You got mad. What was he thinking, always interfering your affairs?

"He came to me a few days ago and brought me to my senses. He said that I should let go of you for your own well-being, that you don't belong in this world and that I shouldn't put you in danger for selfish reasons. And I agree with him. I'm sorry for all the trouble that I've caused you. It was never my intention to hurt you."

"Bullshit! He doesn't know anything about us, about you! You want to leave me because some stranger advised you to? You're hurting me more with that than anything else ever could!"

"Don't you think I want to stay with you too?" he shouted a little louder. You flinched. "But I can't." He articulated the last part more quietly, his eyes squeezed shut in agony.

"Why not?" you asked, tears welling up in your eyes.

"Because you're destined for the wolf."

The knot in your chest only tightened.

"You can't decide that! I decide about my own life and you should do the same! What do you want, Gojo?"

Then he grabbed you by the collar, his teeth clenched in desperation.

"You wanna know what I want?"

"Yes." you whined out and his hands trembled.

Then his broad, long hands landed on both sides of your neck, his thumbs at your chin, and he pulled you closer to him. His grip was firm but gentle, he didn't apply unnecessary pressure, but he still seemed upset.

"I want to possess you and I want to be possessed by you. Do you even know how intensely I feel for you? I would love to mark you properly so that you belong to me, so that it is my scent that sticks to you. But that would be selfish, wouldn't it?" he professed, your lips almost grazing against each other, which quickly made you blush and quicken your already rapid beating heart. Everytime you were near him, you felt like it was beating out of your chest.

"Do it then. It's not selfish if I want you to. Mark me. Bite me. I am already yours."

You noticed the black veins forming on his dark circles at your words but before they were completed, he forcefully suppressed them and turned his head away from you.

"You don't know what you're asking for."

"Yes I do! I want it! So go on!"

"Do you know what you're asking for? You're not just mere food to me. I could never live with the knowledge that I've taken away your normal life. Don't make me do something that would make me despise myself."

"But you already have. Since you came into my life, I have not been the same and I am glad about that! And take a look at you, you're still alive. Why won't you understand how dear you are to me..."

He looked at you fondly and softly called out your name, whispering, almost inaudible if you were not so close to him.

"Please don't leave me alone when I can't find you on my own. I would seek you every day and willingly put myself in danger, all just to see you again. Nothing can stop me, not my promise and not you. Because then my promise would no longer be valid anyways."

His eyes widened in utter surprise.

"Stubborn, aren't we?" he sighed defeatingly.

"Then promise me one thing. Don't ever get near the woods again if I'm not with you."

"Only if you promise me to never talk about parting ways ever again."

He smiled warmly.

"Alright." he complied. Then he pulled you into a hug and pressed your head against his cheek, holding you tight.

"You must be cold. Come on, let's go to my estate, you can warm up there."

You nodded, but remembered something else.

"Your wounds! Let me take care of you first!"

"Already taken care of." he showed you his arm that was full of injuries before. "See? I told you they're no real threat to me. I heal pretty quickly."

You sighed in relief and with that, you two set off.

Gojo's property stretched out somewhere far behind the forest. The black fence in front of it matched the gloomy house behind it. You didn't even know that this place existed, but Gojo said himself that it was impossible to find if you didn't already know the way.

The roof of the house towered far above the tall trees. It looked stable, but lonely and, admittedly, a little scary. The branches of the surrounding trees seemed even sharper than in the forest, they reminded of barbed wire. There were many thorn bushes in the garden of the house, on them lived roses.

The door squeaked loudly when opened and banged even louder when closed. Everything was dark inside, only a few candles allowed you to perceive your general surroundings. If you didn't know better, you would be pretty scared. But then all of a sudden, the whole house became bright and you could see the elegant chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. A long staircase spread out in front of you, covered with a red carpet. On the wall to the left you could see a fireplace, on the right a sofa. The room was large, but according to Gojo it was the entrance hall and therefore the least comfortable room.

He took you up to his bedroom and the rich furniture made your jaw drop to the floor. With its own fireplace and the many candlesticks, it seemed very warm and inviting, the complete opposite of your first impression of the outer building. The windows were big and long and decorated with velvet curtains.

This room was also very large, in the middle of it a round brown wooden table with matching chairs and a porcelain vase on its head and on the wall by the door was another sofa.

The bed was so huge that you would think 4 people could sleep in it - and that without having to suffer from a lack of space, the mattress was very soft and the covers very expensive. In front of the bed and therefore also in front of the fireplace, which was on the opposite side, was an embroidered carpet. Everything in this house seemed very expensive. Next to the right nightstand of the bed was a door that was half open and as you entered the room you could see that it was a bathroom.

Then Gojo spoke.

"Sorry, I'm not used to guests, but I hope you still feel comfortable here."

"That's no problem, I like your decor. It's so old-fashioned, but in a good way! When did you last have visitors here?" you asked out of pure curiosity and waved your finger over the flame of a candle.

"You're the first." he said bluntly, a tingling sensation overflowing you at his statement.

The sound of heavy rain unexpectedly interrupted you and you both stared at the window.

"It's pouring outside..." Gojo said and you hummed in response.

"If you want, you can stay overnight..." he suggested carefully. He felt your blood pressure rise.

"Uhm...I have a guest room of course." he clarified.

The heat rose to your head at the thought of sleeping in the same house as Gojo, but you approved of that idea.

"G-Gladly." you stumbled over your words.

Gojo looked around to escape the brief awkwardness between you. Then something occurred to him.

"You're welcome to take a bath, it will warm you up. I'll run the water for you."

You nodded shyly and thanked him, then he disappeared into the bathroom. When the bath was ready, he gave you towels and a piece of folded clothing. When you unfolded them, you noticed that it was a white nightgown. Your white nightgown that had been lying on your dresser for years because you wanted to take it to the tailor. Your face instantly turned red and he couldn't completely hide his nervousness either.

"I hope this doesn't seem creepy, but I found it and had it adjusted."

You looked at the dress and noticed that it was actually longer. The sleeves also had multiple layers from the elbows down.

"I hope that wasn't too insolent of me, but I saw it lying around for a long time and thought it would be a shame to keep leaving it there..."

Your inability to get the dress adjusted yourself made you feel ashamed, but at the same time you were so happy to finally be able to put on this old dress.

"No, it's perfect. Thank you." you said, overjoyed, and gave him a smile.

"Okay, I'll leave you on your own then. I'm sure you know how a bathroom works." he shook his head at his own utterance.

"Take your time." he ended eventually and closed the door behind him.

The bathtub was much bigger than a normal one and had many ornaments on the faucet as well as on the feet. The details in the bathroom were impressive - it almost seemed as if you were in a castle. The water was covered in foam and... rose petals? And on the windowsill next to the tub, many candles of different sizes lit up the room. The window was not transparent, but made of colored glass, like those in a church.

After taking some time to relax, you got dressed. When you entered the room, Gojo was nowhere to be found. So you decided to wander through the house and look for him.

The hallways were decorated with many paintings and you suddenly smelled the scent of fresh food. You went down the stairs and entered the room you guessed the smell was coming from.

Gojo was standing in the kitchen, he was preparing something and it looked delicious. You quietly sat down on a stool at the kitchen island, facing Gojo.

"Hey, enjoyed your shower?"

You nodded.

"You must be hungry, I prepared something for you. I'm not the best cook though." he said embarrassedly and scratched his ear. Butterflies formed in your stomach at this attentive gesture. He cooked spaghetti with tomato sauce just for you.

"I hope you like it."

You tried the food and he watched you eagerly.

"Mh! It's good!" you said with your mouth full and nodded supportively. A spaghetti stuck to your chin and the sauce on it turned it red even after you had successfully sucked it up into your mouth. Gojo laughed.

"Now you look like the bloodsucker." he grinned and wiped the stain away.

Your heart beat faster at his touch.

"Don't you eat human food at all?" you asked. He shook his head.

"My body is unable to tolerate it. That's why I hardly use the kitchen."

After dinner he showed you the guest room. It was smaller than his, but still cozy. He lit the fireplace and then you said goodnight to each other shyly.

"Well then, the fireplace is on and there's enough wood in it. If anything's wrong, you can always come to me." You smiled tiredly at him before relaxing your face again. You both stared at each other expectantly. Then he broke eye contact.

"Alright...Sweet dreams." he said and waited for a reaction before he closed the door. You looked after him quietly and nodded slightly. When he closed the door, you threw yourself onto the bed and let out the breath you held in. You were feeling so much for him, you were basically on cloud nine. He was so helpful, so good, so pure, so genuine and so SO handsome. He was truly perfect.

You spent some time gushing over him when you began to notice the chilly atmosphere in the room. You turned your head to the side and learned the reason behind it.

The window was broken, its handle not being able to close it. Rain was pouring in and the wind quickly ceased the fire. You didn't think twice and knocked on Gojo's door. When you entered, he was sitting on his bed shirtless, puzzled by the sudden intrusion. His back was leaning against the bedframe, he had a pair of silky pajama pants around his hips and was fiddling with his stomach. There you saw a large wound.

"Your stomach..." your eyes widened in shock. You thought all of his injuries had already healed - at least that's what he pretended.

"Ah, that's no problem, really. The regeneration just takes longer because it's bigger. But don't worry, I'm not in any pain."

He immediately stood up and distracted you by asking what was wrong. You hesitated first, but after you voiced your problem, he apologized thoroughly.

"I'm so sorry, I can't apologize enough. You can take my bed of course. I don't need sleep anyway and if I do want to, I'll go to the guest room. The cold doesn't bother me after all."

"No, please stay...I don't want to throw you out of your own bed."

Lies. You just wanted to share one with him.

He gawked at you flabbergasted,

"Aw, are you that eager to share a bed with me?" Now he was getting cocky.

"Yes." you answered firmly, knowing it would catch him off guard to give him a taste of his own medicine.

When you both laid down, you were silent - staring up at the ceiling and keeping a certain distance from one another. Your heart raced in your chest, unneeded as Gojo didn't reach out to you once in any way. The whole night, nothing happened.

The next Monday, Toji bothered you again. He was in the middle of explaining to you why you two were "the better match" when you interrupted him, annoyed.

“For someone so insistent on harmony, you sure do disrupt other people's lives pretty often."

“Listen. We wolves feel very quickly and, if so, very intensely. This is called imprinting. When I looked into your eyes back then, I could already see our whole future together. I knew straight away that we were meant for each other.”

"Do you wolves also consider the partner's feelings? Or does consent not exist with you?"

"Ah, just look at that temper, so fierce, you'd fit in so well."

"My temper depends on my counterpart. And I don't think I would, considering I would be mad constantly then. That sure wouldn't be good for my health."

"But surrounding yourself with parasites that thirst for your life is good for your health?" he snorted.

You got mad.

"He is not a parasite, you are! The only one molesting me with such ridiculous fantasies is you, and let me tell you one thing: they will never be reality. I despise you from the bottom of my heart for talking about him like that, he is so much better, greater and more human in every sense of the word. Next time you try to pursuit a woman, try be more romantic and less demanding. But forget about me."

With that you left, your pulse way too high. The only one who could put your mind at ease was Satoru. Oh, just thinking about him made you feel lightweighted enough to just float in the air. When you were together, that's when you felt at peace.

Your heart started to calm down when your eyes met him - as much as it could with the usual reason of your racing heart beat right in front of you.

When he sniffed this familiar scent again, you promised to explain what had happened once you arrived at your destination.

Gojo took you on a mountain, far above the city where you've never been to. The soft clouds were grey from the season and the sky prepared for it's upcoming rain. You looked down onto the city and couldn't believe how small it seemed.

You both lay down on the slightly wet grass, looking up into the endless firmament over you.

When you told him the story, he gave you even more insight into the life of the undead.

"We vampires also bind ourselves to a partner for life." he started. You shifted in your place for your eyes to focus on him, expecting him to continue. Your shoulders grazed one another now, but he took his time, hesitating a little.

"Many vampires die of a broken heart because they get the short end of the stick. They become suicidal or suffer for the rest of their lives. Even after the death of their partner, it doesn't stop. Because often they are not the predestined person for the one that's meant for them. It's only logical when you look at the fact that our lifetimes weren't intended to meet each other. That's a side effect of the curse. We are not actually entitled to love, because we shouldn't exist under normal circumstances."

You jumped up, entrusting all of your bodyweight to your right hand that supported you on the ground. Was this why he let all those arrows pierce through him after deciding on withdrawing from your life? Was he planning to commit suicide too?

"Of course you are entitled, just like everyone else! You have a right to exist, otherwise you wouldn't exist in the first place! If there really is something like fate, then it includes all of the anomalies of nature. You deserve to find happiness, Satoru."

He weakly smiled at you, getting up too now, standing while looking up in silence. You looked up too, up to him. There was no reason to look at the sky when heaven was right in front of you.

As you waited for some slight movement of his, the sudden strong wind blew through your hair and you quickly tucked it behind your ear before standing up as well, situating yourself next to Gojo.

"You are the purest form of nature." he then declared. You felt your face heating up at that.

"You are my human. You are my chosen one."

he turned his head to you know, your eyes displaying a longing of such fervour you both held/raised for so long now.

"And you are mine, Satoru." you muttered quietly.

Your heartbeat fastened when you saw his hands coming up to your face, placing them on both sides of your cheeks. Satoru looked at you through half-lidded eyes, lips contorted into a soft smile. You closed your eyes, and then you felt it. His lips on yours. It was a sensation like no other, he was tender in the way he moved his mouth against yours, the smooth pink flesh dancing around yours like they knew each other, mastering the choreography of your mutual love, giving and taking in all you could. Your hands found his strong chest on their way to his neck you snaked them around, resting them and pulling him in even more at the same time.

The coldness coating him only intensified the fluttering wings of the butterflies in your stomach, pressing your contrasting temperatures against each other while blending them into something entirely of their own.

You felt dizzy, your lips prickling as if they got more and more plump by each second. Your whole body concentrated on that one point, that small spot that touched him.

What came over you next - apart from the hurried declarations - was the rain. You both pulled away momentarily, letting the drops fall onto your bodies without a care in the world, only to laugh at your love being practically watered by mother nature, flourishing it and blooming as you simultaneously leaned in for another kiss.

How lucky you felt in this moment to have the privilege of feeling him, of being felt by him. You were sure you were the happiest person on earth.

But even the merriest of moments come to an end, because when the storm raged, you agreed that it would be best to leave, a place that high is not really advantageous when facing a storm.

He took you to his place again, tucking you into a warm blanket and seating you in front of the chimney in his room. He then told you that he had to take care of something and would come back as soon as possible, and to make yourself at home.

He came back about fourty minutes later and he looked paler than usual. You asked him about it, but he just shove it off, telling you he would tell you another time. You didn't want to be too pushy and decided to leave it for now.

You slept in the same bed again this night, and this time, you embraced each other's bodies, caressing your skins while talking about your lives and memories. Gojo told you that he has lived for 411 years and this information made your mouth drop. He laughed. He had such a pretty laugh.

It was sensual, you in his arms and the way his icy fingertips stroked your arm. You did the same, caressing his torso. When you brushed his side for a moment, he slightly winced in pain. It didn't go unnoticed by you. You stared up at him first, then down to where you accidentally touched him.

"You still have this wound?" You immediately sat up. He cursed himself for making you notice.

"Don't worry, I'm okay." he smiled, but it was a fake one. He was definitely in pain.

"I thought you said your wounds would close on their own..." you questioned, inspecting the wound closely.

"They do, but only if I consume a meal." he admitted.

"Meal as in...?" you started, insinuating human blood. He nodded.

"But don't worry. I don't intend to. I will figure it out somehow."

"Bite me." you confidently proposed, but he was not having it.

"Never. I'd rather die."

"You need blood and I have it. If you don't drink anything soon, who knows what will happen. I won't let you die because you refuse to eat!"

"Eat you!" he clarified, a little angry about your carelessness.

"Is that why you left earlier? Because you were in so much pain that you had to hide from me?"

He was silent. You were speechless.

"...Not only that, but it was a part of it."

You didn't understand.

"What does this mean?" you asked and he wanted to brush it off.

Then, you suddenly kissed him and it surprised him so much that he let out a small and quiet moan.

"I don't want to lose you."

Another kiss.

He slowly joined in, kissing you back each time your lips met.

"You won't lose me." he said, shifting. You thought he did that to switch positions, but he actually stood up to leave the room.

"I'll sleep in the guest room. Have a good night, I'll see you tomorrow." he said and headed for the door.

"So you're just leaving me?" you asked, but no reaction from him.

"Why don't you trust me?" you then asked louder, furrowing your brows. He immediately stopped in his tracks.

"I trust you. Do you think I'm so fragile? I don't know why you would want to be with someone you consider weak."

He turned around, placing his knees on the end of the bed, his arms supporting him on the mattress, a position that enabled him to leave quickly again. One of his hands reached out to your hair and he it petted it gently.

"I don't think you're weak. But you're weaker than me, and that's enough to be cautious."

"But you don't trust me. And apparently you don't trust yourself. Why do you turn me down everytime when all I want to do is feel you in every sense of the word?"

He didn't know what to say, so you continued.

"I don't know why you're so hesitant when this was what saved me back then, so let it save you now. Why don't you treat yourself the same way you treat me?"

"Because you are so much more dear to me than my own, cursed life. Although it is less cursed with you in it."

"If I said the same thing, what would your reaction be?"

"..."

"Exactly. I trust you, Satoru, with all my heart. So just get a grip and drink from me and stop punishing yourself for simply existing! You're 411 years old for god's sake, someday you have to accept your life!"

This time it was him who kissed you - wildly, passionately, emotionally. As if for the first time in his life, someone had acknowledged Satoru's worth - apart from the picture that the world had seen.

Satoru slowly crawled to you, taking you into his embrace while keeping his mouth occupied with your pretty lips.

"You really want me to suck the blood out of your body so bad?" He said between a kiss, dragging his face down to your neck and brushing it with his nose while you moaned, letting out a small "mhmm" in approval.

"I know you will stop at the right time, don't even try to tease me." you said in a weak attempt to appear strong, to stand your ground, but you were getting inevitably weak, sinking into the exciting sensation that was Satoru Gojo.

He chuckled deeply, kissing over your neck and nibbling on it teasingly before shamelessly making out with it.

"Stop teasing." you whined while growing aroused, body heat increasing at his hot smooches.

He only forced your body against him harder, beefy arms fully engulfing you. You felt his powerful muscles against your front with the way his hefty body pressed into yours and you couldn't resist him anymore, groping his ripped shoulders desperately.

He shoved you in his lap and you whimpered, growing excited more and more with the way he devoured you.

"You're so-"

He kissed your ear.

"Incredibly-"

Then your neck.

"Stubborn."

And with the last word, he went even further down - his chin lowered the fabric of your nightgown just a little - and planted a kiss on your chest.

"Want me to drink from you? Alright, your wish is my command. But first I'll take care of your own needs." he then grumbled, growing needier himself.

"Satoru, please, I want you." You cried and he groaned at the sound.

"I'm going crazy over you." he added.

"I just want to devour you whole. Make you go crazy for me too" His sexual hint made you buck your hips against his, feeling wetter and wetter with each second. Saying "I already am." made him groan even louder.

He gently but hastily pushed up your nightgown to your waist, grazing his fingers over your throbbing clit. He played with it for a while, making you moan out loud and furrow your eyebrows until he pushed your panties aside to get to the real thing.

"You're so wet already. All for me?"

You nodded in response when his hand wandered through your folds, not able to form any words from the fast beating and heart in your chest. He continued stroking your clit with his thumb, while his fingers worked their way to your core.

"I'll be sure to cherish it then."

That's when two of his fingers slide in and you couldn't help but jump up from the unexpected but more than welcomed intrusion. You whined like you never knew you could and Satoru enjoyed every second of it, fingering your hole at a slow but steady pace first before speeding up his movements.

It was too much even for him, that's why he smoothly pushed you on the mattress and went down on you, licking and slobbering between your folds until he rolled his eyes back in a delirious state. You gasped at the sudden nudge and gasped even more when you felt his tongue penetrating your inner walls.

"This is my new favorite meal from now on."

You rolled back your eyes as he took you higher and when you came for the first time, you and him moaned in unison, him being so turned on by you that his own swelling bulge nearly threatened to drill a hole into his pants.

"Oh my god!" you screamed, completely breathless as Satoru rode out your high.

"Feel good?" he asked and licked his fingers clean, in disbelief once again at how good you taste. But he received an answer he did not expect.

"Yes, oh Satoru, I love you!" you exhaled in bliss and his eyes widened, his heart twitched and his pants tightened.

You had both confessed your feelings already, but none of you dared to speak out those three words. And it made him go absolutely feral.

Without a second thought, he got rid of both of your clothes, departing from another shortly before he dragged you down his lap again, sitting directly in front of his cock. He groaned when he saw your bare body for the first time.

"Look at you, so absolutely perfect. Don't you show any mercy in seducing me like this?" His fingers started fondling your breasts, rubbing at your sensitive nipples while amazedly taking in the sight of you further.

And you, for the first time too saw him in all his glory. And he was huge. Huge and surprisingly very pretty, his bright pink tip was leaking solid amounts precum already and for some reason it looked so scrumptious that you just wanted to lick it off.

His balls looked heavy, but the skin of the whole area looked so flawless and the few thick veins that decorated his shaft throbbed when it accidentally met your skin. All in all, it made the same impression as Gojo's body in general - delicate, but burly.

The new and unfamiliar kind of contact made tingles spread in all of your limbs, enjoying the incredible experience. You felt his protruding girth directly under your entrance and you felt wobbly just by the thought of him inserting himself.

"I have to have you." he growled, eyes half-lidded and impatient as he moved his hand all over your body.

"Then take me." you simply said. And you didn't have to say it twice.

In one motion, Gojo placed you directly over his bulbous head, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it while luring you onto him. He began to carefully but eagerly glide you down on him and once you felt the stretch, you both let out a deep moan.

He was really thick, but his length was even longer and when he warily invaded your space, he let you get used to him and waited for your approval to go further. In the meantime he made you feel so treasured with the way his hands worked against your skin, how his slight touches swayed and whirled around almost ticklishly to console you through it all and how his eyes not only sparkled with desire but deep rooted devotion - that's how attentive he was, as if he would touch something sacred, something holy. And to him, you were a saint.

After a few moments, when you consented, he began to move inside of you, increasing his rhythm bit by bit. And god, was it euphoric, the way he bounced you on top of him as if you weighed nothing.

His thrusts were relentless, he pulled you in as if he wanted you to mold into each other. With every poke against your sweet spot - that he found so effortlessly - it felt as if you were one, as if you were becoming a single entity and you could feel everything the other felt.

The constant ram of his hips and his powerful arms caging you against him made you see stars soon and that's it when kicked in.

"M-mark me." you whined and his attention was on your words, caught off guard for a second before asking you one last question.

"A-are you...hngh...are you sure?" And you just nodded, pushing him by the back of his head so that he was in front of your neck. You leaned to the side to make space for him, so that he could settle between your head and shoulders and with one last look into your eyes, he hesitantly obliged.

He was so careful when he sank his teeth into you and it burned, the sting aching and pulsating, but you clenched your teeth and let it happen.

For Gojo it was heaven, he drank you up as if it would be his last meal, as if he hadn't eaten for a decade. He stopped his powerful thrusts for a second, basking in that feeling for a split second before he picked up his speed again and soon turned into a moaning, whimpering mess.

His eyes widened and were turned red again, the veins under them popped out, an expression on his face like he was about cry.

He thrusted and thrusted and sucked and thrusted and it did a hundred things to you, because soon, you found pure pleasure in it. He took from you but gave you something in return, releasing his venom inside of you. The sweet exchange made you basically melt into each other, relishing in the transcendental joy of absorbing one another.

It was ecstatic. It felt like the highest high possible, the way you gave in to him, quenching his thirst for blood and for you.

With every sip of his, the thrusts began to feel even more overwhelming, more intense than before, a downright assault on your walls, as if there was a place behind that he tried to get into.

It was addictive, as addictive as your stream of blood was to Gojo when he probably drank a little too much from you, considering how close you were to passing out. But it was that combination of pleasure and blood loss taking you to heaven and back, feeling as if you were drunk off of him, not the other way around. And you just smiled in pure bliss, looking a little insane with the way your eyes rolled back. You felt so lightheaded, as if you floated in the air, unconscious to everything but the satisfaction he provided you with.

And he gulped and groaned and gasped and pounded into you, his neediness palpable in his greedy grips that went up and down your body hastily, before you both reached your peaks at the same time and he stopped.

When he released inside of you, the liquid felt frosty to the point it made you shudder. You were shaking, feeling like his seed cooled you down from your own orgasm, goosebumps spreading on your body while he rode out both of your highs.

The chilly feeling vanished once the venom started spreading through your body, replacing the former weakness with newfound energy, filling your body with the power of regeneration. And when you looked at Satoru, he seemed so much more healthy, so much more glowing, saturated from his latest feast.

"You're all marked up now." hearing him announce his claim on you made your face flush and your insides twitch in excitement. Never before have you been this satisfied.

But it wasn't enough. For the both of you it wasn't enough. No, the night was still young and Gojo couldn't resist to push you down the mattress desperately, intertwining his fingers with yours as he placed your hands next to your head, rolling his hips once again.

The next months were full of Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. You could also put a "you" in front of the verb of the last sentence, because you made love to each other like you were bunnies. But it wasn't just the hot vampire sex that kept you satiated, it was the way he cared for you, the way he held you in his arms after, embracing you fully after wiping you clean with a wet towel, the way he would take you on new adventures, showing you places you didn't knew existed, telling you stories you've never heard. You explored and experienced the depths of the world - and each other.

And he was ready to show you one of those depths of his, bringing you to the backyard of his mansion one day to show you the big graveyard that was based there.

"This is a place of peace for all the people whose deaths I have on my conscience, all the people I have already killed during my existence. I built it as a way for me to show remorse, although I know that it doesn't condone my acts."

You furrowed your brows in sympathy, grateful that he opened up and shared this sensitive information with you.

"That's also where I went off to when I left you that one night. I accepted my wounds as a punishment for all my sins. I was torn between begging them to finally release me from my misery or begging for forgiveness to stay with you. I thought I was ready to perish until I met you. Finally finding you gave my life the purpose it yearned for so long." he cleared up, looking at the tombstones in front of you.

"You have such a good heart, Satoru. Building this place for them to rest and never be forgotten on your very own property shows that."

He let out a small laugh and turned to you.

"Do you feel this?" he took your hand and placed it in the middle of his chest.

"Your heart?" you asked.

He shook his head.

"It died a long time ago, but it started beating again for you. My heart is all yours. My love and life, they both belong to you." You knew he wasn't speaking literally but metaphorically.

Your eyes warmed up to him when he continued.

"I think that night was their answer, a sign of mercy when you offered yourself to me. My atonement will be protecting your precious life, the one that I'll save in return for the hundreds I took."

You quickly hugged him, tears swelling down your cheeks.

"I will take care of you too, Satoru. It won't be one-sided, I promise. I'll rescue you as many times as I have to."

He chuckled lowly, thankful for your sentiment before taking you into his embrace. He tightened his grip and kissed your temple, furrowing his brows when teardrops glimmered onto you.

You stood there for a while, relishing in the sheer intimacy of the moment.

One of the places Gojo surprised you with was a sea in the middle of the woods, far away from the curious eyes of anyone except the peaceful animals living around.

You've been here twice before, but the winter months have been to cold for you to enjoy your stay and Gojo was so worried over you - not feeling the cold himself - that he promised you to take you there again when the temperatures would rise again.

That time was now. It was a lovely spring night when you two found yourself alone at the abandoned spot.

Gojo bathed in the sea, naked and the water almost reaching his hips. He looked up at the moon, admiring it. And you, you were admiring him from afar, getting rid of your clothes too as he was waiting for you.

He shimmered under the moon as if absorbing and reflecting its light at once, flawless skin reminding you of nacre, rivaling mother-of-pearl. His eyes radiated with the same colour as the sea in the moonlight, and when you finally into the water and walked up to him, you realized that, although the brightness of the moon shone beautifully on the water, his shining white hair stood out to you, like a lamp guiding you through the darkness.

It felt like magnetism how you were pulled to each other, none of you capable of breaking the force, none of you wanting to. It was straight up torture whenever you had to separate, is it as if you belonged with each other, you were soulmates - there was nothing and no one in the world who could cut the invisible string of your deep connection.

When he heard the water splash behind him from your movements, he turned around, his lips went up to a bright, genuine smile. He snaked his arms around your smaller figure and rested his chin on the top of your head, eyes closing for a bit before contently looking into the distance. The time stood still whenever you were close, it was just him and you in this big world. Satoru Gojo was happy. He was thankful. And, most importantly, he was on cloud nine.

He couldn't help but start to get a little aroused at your loving fingers massaging all over his skin, his hardened member visible to you. When your hand moved down, that's what piqued his interest.

You teasingly went down, touches so light, barely even reaching him so that he grew more tempted. You grazed past his chest and stopped at his abdomen.

He watched your hand sliding around his pulsating erection and he inhaled, holding his breath, a pearly substance decorating the tip already, making you squeeze your legs at this delicious sight.

You grabbed it strongly, squeezing it a little before jerking him off. His moaned and groaned at the sensations turned out to be not enough for you - no, you wanted a taste of him. And so you kneeled down and wrapped your pretty lips around his length.

You made him go insane by bobbing your head up and down his shaft, stroking whatever didn't fit into your mouth with one hand and fondling his balls with the other while he lost his mind over you.

The way you seemed to enjoy it even more than him set him on fire, so he quickly lifted you up, forcefully throwing you onto his cock, sheathing himself deep inside of you, mumbling something about it "being not enough" and "needing more". It was safe to say that this happened with your consent, he would never do anything against your will, but the signals you gave him - and he was very familiar with them by now - convinced him that you did.

You let out a pleased wail at the sudden intrusion and he started digging his claws into your thighs, nails prodding in your flesh to move you impossibly closer, throwing his head back into his neck. When he started his unforgiving pace, a naughty idea came to your mind. You bit the inside of your palm hard enough to draw blood and planted the wound directly on his mouth. Gojo's eyes widened at the flavor, completely unprepared. His erotic mewls broke the silence.

"Drink up, handsome." you said and he growled, rolling back his eyes and rearranging your guts a tad more while drinking from the source on your palm.

You both reached your highs pretty quickly, considering your intense intercourse. When he released his cool semen into your womb, it was only then that you felt fulfilled. He was gushing out such amounts that it made your insides feel sticky and you took immense pride in that.

But you had no time coming back to your senses because he was not done with you, practically teleporting you to the rock nearby and caging you against it, already aiming for round two. With him, it was never just one round, too obsessed with you and the way you feel to stop so soon.

You spent much time and happy days loving each other. But time wasn't infinite.

So why, when you were so happy and fulfilled, did you have to leave him?

Why did you betray him?

And how dared you dying on him? To protect him from the arrow that was meant to hit him?

You broke your promise and he fell victim to his sins again, blaming himself for your death and never before did he feel so envious of someone. That's the endcome the werewolf warned him of and he was stupid to not believe him. He should have never trusted you, oh, how blinded he was from love. He would make sure to never make a mistake like this again, abstaining from every joy, never pursuing any dreams again, because you were his only wish, and dreams turn into nightmares.

Cursed to live the life you paved for him - without the life that kept him alive. Not being allowed to follow you into the afterlife, not daring to let your sacrifice be wasted, his kind not even able to reach the same beyond anyways. You were an angel that belonged in heaven, he a creature of the night, property of the underworld.

A picture of you forever adorned his windowsill, the clear glass behind it displaying the very graveyard you, now, rested on too. And Satoru Gojo was, once again, all alone in this world, eternally torturing himself for his crimes and mourning his only beloved.

Whewww, I started writing this at the beginning of September but then I went on vacation. But I'm proud of myself for finishing it before halloween! I hope you like it, let me know what you all think!

I dedicate this story to a friend of mine who told me she craved a vamp!gojo fic and I agreed, starting the story the exact same day. This will probably never reach her though, since she doesn't know I have this blog :P

Not an english native and not proofread yet, so sorry for that.

(I hope someone actually reads it, it's so longgg 😭)

[daisynik7]

Your coworker Nanami absolutely pines for you.  

You have no clue that his heart beats thrice as fast whenever he’s around you. He’s surprised you haven’t heard it yet, especially during the moments when you get so close, you’re almost touching. That’s when he loses it the most. And it’s not just the proximity of your bodies. It’s whatever lotion or perfume you’re wearing that sends him into a frenzy, maybe even the natural scent of you. To him, it’s the sweetest thing. Sometimes, you’ll graze hands when you hand him a document, and his skin tingles the remainder of the day. To you, it may be nothing; to him, it’s a spark that ignites his very being, electrifies his nerves, synapses firing into his brain, imagining all the ways he can get close to you again. 

Nanami always takes his lunch the same time as you do. He loves talking to you in the break room, whether it be about the latest hobby you’ve taken up, new shows you’re watching, venting about a certain coworker that annoys the both of you. His crush on you grows stronger when you start bringing him little treats every so often. A croissant you picked up in the morning at the café. Little chocolates you bought for yourself, thinking that he would like a taste too. A new pasta recipe you want him to try because you know how good of a cook he is, and his opinion really matters to you. 

You have no idea how much you mean to him. He only likes going to work because of you. 

[darknight3904]

Through the Years

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ᴀ ɢʟɪᴍᴘꜱᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ɢᴏᴊᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴜʀꜱɪɴɢ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ/ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ (ɴᴏ ꜱᴇx) ɴᴀᴏʏᴀ ᴢᴇɴɪɴ (ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ɢʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴇᴅꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ)

ɪ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ɪɴ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ʙᴀʙʏ. ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ᴢᴇɴɪɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ᴏᴠᴇʀ 5ᴋ (ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴇʏᴇᴅ ᴋɪɴɢ)

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

December 7, 2005 (Gojo: 16 You: 15)

"You know you're practically a senior citizen now."

Gojo's head whips around, insulted at the idea of being called old. Sure he's got white hair but he's just turned 16, not 61.

"You're only a year younger than me, y'know. You'll be 16 soon too." He grins

Gojo grins as you roll your eyes next to him.

"At least I don't have white hair already." You point out

"Whatever, at least I'm not two inches tall." Gojo laughs, resting an elbow on your head.

"I'm still growing!" You defend, angry at the idea of staying the same height forever. "Get your ugly arm off me!"

"I'll have you know my arm is gorgeous," Gojo says, blue eyes catching the sunlight as he easily matches your pace.

"Mmhmm." You roll your eyes

To keep it simple, Satoru Gojo got under your skin. Perhaps it was that annoying smile or maybe the fact that your clan notoriously hated his. All you knew was that he drove you insane and you wished he'd just disappear so he could never bother you again.

"Where is everyone? I thought we agreed to meet here at 4," Gojo whined next to you.

"Worried your boyfriend stood you up?" You tease. thinking of the dark-haired boy who was usually joined to Gojo's hip most days.

"Suguru would never do that to me." Gojo smiles, unwrapping a lollipop he had stuffed in his pocket.

"I dunno, what if he finally got sick of you, Gojo?" You say, knowing it was impossible.

A soft ding interrupts your conversation with the boy and Gojo fishes his phone out of his pocket.

"HA! Told you he'd never stand me up!"

Gojo's phone is obnoxiously close to your face as he prompts you to read his chat with Geto.

On our way. Nanami needed to be convinced.

Another ding sounds and a picture of your fellow first years pops up Haibara is dragging Nanami down the sidewalk by his arms.

"Idiots." You murmur

"I see that smile! You got a crush on Nanamin?" Gojo's voice fills your ears as his pointer finger pokes at your face

"Piss off, Gojo." You groan "I hope one of Geto's curses eat you."

April 2006 (Gojo: 16 You: 15)

"You totally just cheated!" You accuse the blonde across from you

"Have you considered that you're just terrible at Jenga?" Nanami asked

"Have you considered that you just moved the table during my turn so you'd win and not me!" You groan

"It's just Jenga, Zenin. We can just start over." Haibara points out

"Not with a cheater playing." You roll your eyes

Haibara smiles as he begins to pick up the fallen blocks from the floor. You had been on edge for a few days now and your temper was beginning to get a bit out of hand. He had asked Nanami what he thought was the matter and the two of them had come to the conclusion that it had to do with your visit with the head of the Zenin clan.

"That's enough for today. I'm going to take a nap." Nanami declares

"Ugh, what a party pooper." Haibara teases, elbowing you.

"In case you forgot, Zenin here did me the favor of hitting me hard enough that I nearly passed out today in training." Nanami reminds the two of you.

Ah right, that. You had gone a bit too hard today sparring with Nanami.

"Oh, I forgot about that," Haibara says

"Yes. You should let Zenin get some rest. Her technique is draining, she's said so herself.

Sure, Phantom wasn't exactly easy to pull off but you wanted to keep playing. You wanted to kick Nanami's ass in Jenga.

"Alright. Let's eat dinner together tonight though. I have these awesome cookies in my room you'll both like." Haibara declares before following Nanami out of your room.

Perhaps Nanami was correct, a nap did sound enjoyable right now. A quick nap and then maybe you'd cook something to share with the boys tonight. Perhaps a couple of rice balls or maybe some chicken.

No sooner had you gotten comfortable under your blankets that your door swung open and Gojo was running into your room, Geto close on his heels.

"Satoru, you should always knock on a girl's door before barging in." Geto scolds his friend for you.

"It's fine, Suguru. It's not like she's getting changed or anything." Gojo grins looking down at you who had remained buried under your covers.

"And what if I was?" You scowl from your blankets

"I would've screamed in horror and asked Suguru to exorcise you." Gojo says flashing that oddly charming smile of his.

You're sure he could get away with murder if he just flashed those pearly whites.

You ignore the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as you sit up.

"I was about to take a nap but I guess it can wait." You say

"A nap? What are you four?" Gojo teases

"Yeah probably." You agree

"Not everyone is as energetic as you are Satoru." Geto reminded the white haired boy

"Yeah, what Geto said. Not everyone is a walking ball of energy." You say

Geto had always been your favorite of Jujutsu High's strongest duo. He didn't call you short or try to steal your food. Or maybe it was his long hair that seemed to always look better than yours.

Plus then there was that time Gojo snuck into your room to try and shave your eyebrows off. Sometimes you swore the elders of the Gojo clan were sending the six eyes user after you on purpose.

"Whatever, loser." Gojo said trying to reach and mess up your hair.

"Would you stop that! I'm not a child!" You groan

"Then why're you the size of one?" Gojo laughs

Even Geto laughed at that one as you shove Gojo out of the way.

"Why are you two even here? Can't you go bother Shoko for once?" You ask

"Shoko said you've been in a bad mood the past few days." Geto started

"So we've come to cheer you up!" Gojo finished

You watched wide-eyed as Gojo dumped the bag he was holding onto your bed. Every possible sweet fell out accompanied by different DVDs.

"For the record, I told him it was too much candy but he didn't listen," Geto says as Gojo riffles through the movie choices.

One DVD case catches your eye as Gojo argues with Geto about his sugar choices.

"Are you a Rachel McAdams fan, Gojo?" You ask as you hold up Mean Girls.

"Duh." Gojo grins before swiping the case from your hand to pop it into the player you had

"Raise your hand if you have ever been personally victimized by Regina George."

"Y'know you're kinda like Regina, Satoru," Geto says observing the movie.

"Am not." Gojo rolls his eyes sipping at his soda

"Sure you are." Geto smiles

"Yeah right." Gojo scoffs "Whaddaya think, Zenin?"

Gojo looked at you for an answer but was met with you asleep next to him, head resting on one of those massive stuffed animals you kept. You're drooling a bit and he can't help but think that you're a bit cute like this.

He reaches to shake you awake, determined to get your opinion on whether or not he is like a spoiled teenage girl.

"Let her rest. I heard that her and the other first years went pretty hard today training. Nanami took a big blow to the head from her using her technique." Geto stopped his best friend

"I wish she'd show me her technique. She explained it to me once but I still don't get it." Gojo huffed

"I'm pretty sure Phantom just multiplies her and then she closes the distance with her real body. I watched her use it on Haibara a few months ago." Geto explains

"Whatever...I still want to see it with my own eyes." Gojo declared

The TV hummed softly as they sat in silence while Regina George got hit by a bus after rushing out of her school.

"Why do you think she's been in such a bad mood recently? I heard her yelling about Jenga earlier." Geto asked

"I'm not entirely sure but I think it probably has to do with Nabito Zenin." Gojo said "His archaic way of doing things is probably upsetting her. I heard that she had some meeting with him recently."

Geto lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment.

"Nabito is probably trying to stick her in some arranged marriage. I wouldn't be surprised if it was with his own brat, Naoya." Gojo elaborates

"You know a lot about the Zenin Clan, Satoru," Geto points out

"Well the last Six Eyes and Infinity user was killed by one of them, so I think I'm entitled to a little knowledge. " Gojo defends

"Yeah, yeah. Maybe you should try to be a little nicer to her though, especially if you know what might be going on with her clan." Geto suggests

"I'm perfectly nice." He defends

"Yesterday you said you were going to shave her head in her sleep because she ate one of your french fries."

"I was joking!"

November 2006 (Gojo: 16 You: 16)

"Happy Birthday, Zenin!" Haibara called "Have fun with your family!"

You smiled and waved at Haibara and Nanami as you got into the car that had been sent to pick you up.

Fun. This trip would be anything but fun.

Snow was falling as you entered your childhood home. The soft scent of lavender filled your nose and calmed your nerves.

"You're back! I'm still cooking!" Your mother exclaimed as she emerged from the kitchen

"Yeah, there wasn't much traffic." You reply, trying to release yourself from her bone-crushing hug. Seriously with her strength, she'd probably be able to exercise curses.

"Go wash up. Your father will be back soon and he is bringing Nabito-san and his son." Your mother says

Dinner is quiet. Or rather you're quiet next to your mother while Nabito and your father discuss something about cursed techniques and something about Toji Zenin's kid.

"Your face is plain." the boy across from you suddenly says

Your mother momentarily freezes but quickly regains her composure.

"Yes well, sometimes plain features are best. Just think you wouldn't want every man looking at your wife." Your mother says

Did she just agree to you being plain featured? You looked like her for crying out loud!

"Whatever," Naoya mumbled before shoving more rice into his mouth.

What a pig.

You're not entirely sure why it's happening. Perhaps it was the dinner with Naoya that had your brain going crazy. But ever since you got back from your parents' home you can't stop staring at Gojo. Was it because he represented everything your clan hated? Or maybe it was because he was insufferably annoying? Whatever the reason, you swore he was drawing you in.

"You should stop staring. You might put a hole in his head." Shoko says

"I wasn't-"

"Don't lie to me." Shoko smiles knowingly

You definitely weren't staring at Satoru Gojo. Nope. Not in a million years. And you definitely didn't get butterflies whenever he looked your way. That would be ridiculously, ridiculous.

August 2007 (Gojo: 17 You: 16)

"I don't get why I wasn't assigned with you two. I mean we're always going on missions together." You grumble

"They probably need you to help Gojo train more. Your technique is perfect for him to strengthen his Six Eyes, Zenin." Haibara points out

"It's just a grade two. We'll be back before sundown." Nanami assures

"Yeah, then we can watch a movie and get fat off popcorn," Haibara says

"I'm choosing tonight. I don't want to watch another Pirates of the Caribbean movie." Nanami declares

"But Jack Sparrow is so sexy!" You groan

Haibara laughs in agreement with you.

"See you later, Zenin! I can't wait to bully Nanami into watching Pirates of the Caribbean with you tonight!" Haibara declares

See you later, Zenin!

See you later.

You should've gotten into that damn car with them. Your technique was better than both of theirs. Maybe if you had...just maybe you wouldn't be staring down at half of your friend.

Geto was next to you, looking down at his body, He was silent, long hair blocking his face from you.

Nanami sat behind you, a damp cloth over his eyes.

"You need to rest for now, Nanami," Geto suggests, his soft voice filling the silence.

"Damn it. I should've gone with you two." You say, your voice dripping in regret.

"You could've gotten killed too, Zenin." Nanami sighs, his voice is tight like he's holding back tears.

A soft summer breeze blows through your hair as you sit on a bench. You had left Geto and Nanami with Haibara, not wanting to see the bloody sheet he was under anymore.

"Hey."

You glance up from where you had been picking at your nails, willing yourself to hold it together.

Gojo stood over you, hand stretched out with a piece of candy in it.

"I heard what happened." He said sitting next to you as you unwrapped the candy and popped it in your mouth.

"You wanna talk about it?" Gojo asked

"Not really." You sighed

"You don't seem too sad," Gojo said quietly

"I think I will be...later on. Once I'm alone." You say

"Yeah, me too." He replied.

Silence enveloped the two of you as you focused on the taste of the candy in your mouth.

"I gave you the green apple. It's my least favorite." Gojo said

"Thanks." You reply

September 2007 (Gojo: 17 You: 16)

In accordance with Jujutsu regulations, Geto Suguru is sentenced to death.

For once in his life Gojo Satoru is not buzzing around you like an excited puppy. You can see him, sitting alone on the steps of Jujutsu High.

The deaths of 112 people including his own parents rests on Geto's hands. You couldn't believe it when Nanami read the report to you. But now, seeing Gojo alone confirmed it.

You don't know what you're going to say to Gojo as you approach him. What do you say to the person who's just lost their best friend to a life of being a curse user?

"I know you're lurking back there," Gojo says

Damn it.

"I wanted to give you this." You mumble tossing him a lollipop before sitting next to him, probably a bit too close for someone who swore you weren't interested in him.

Gojo softly smiles and accepts the candy.

"Did he say what he wants to do next?" You ask

"He wants to exterminate all non-sorcerers from the world," Gojo says

An unattainable goal.

"That's impossible." You say

"That won't stop him." Gojo points out

A soft weight taps you and the sweet scent of Satoru Gojo's shampoo fills your nose as he rests his head on your shoulder.

"I'm sure you'll see him again. Even if it's not for a long time, you'll talk to each other again." You assure him.

"Yeah, I hope so," Gojo admits

His voice is a whisper in the breeze, a prayer for the future.

Christmas 2009 (Gojo: 20 You: 19)

"You have to stay quiet, Gojo!" You groan looking at your friend next to you

"This costume is so itchy though! The beard is gonna make my skin all red!" He whines

"Suck it up." You command

Gojo lets out another groan but helps you finish arranging the copious amounts of gifts he had ended up buying for Megumi and Tsumiki.

"Alright, it's perfect. Now go stand next to the tree."

Gojo listens to you and lets out a huff of embarrassment when you snap his picture.

"That better be for your eyes only." He says

"Oh definitely don't worry about it." You brush him off before quickly sending the picture off to Nanami and Shoko. They're sure to get a kick out of it.

"Remind me why I asked you to help with these brats again," Gojo says as he notices you sending his picture.

"Cuz' these brats would be dead if you were the only one watching them, Gojo." You say

"I'm a great caregiver." He says

"You wanted to get Megumi a pink tutu for Christmas." You say

"He would've looked great!" Gojo defends

"He would've set his Demon Dogs after you." You say

"Would not."

"Would too."

"Would not!'

"Would too!"

"What's going on?"

You and Gojo stop your bickering to see sleepy-eyed children hovering on the steps, dark hair out of place and a frizzy mess atop their little heads.

"Santa and I were just arguing about what cookie is best!" You grin

"That's not Santa. That's Gojo in that costume you ordered off Amazon last week." Megumi points out. "I saw the order details on your laptop."

Who the hell does this kid think he is?

"What? No! This is the real Santa from the North Pole!" You scramble

"Megumi, just go with it!" Tsumiki whispers to her little brother, "They obviously don't know Santa's not real!"

Is it a crime to toss a child out a window?

"The jig is up!" Gojo declares beside you as he rips off his fake beard. "Now let's get to the real fun stuff! Mistletoe!"

Gojo grabs a sprig of mistletoe from between the couch cushions. Curse him and his hiding spots.

"Pucker up, hot stuff!" Gojo says as he reaches for you and wraps an arm around your waist to pull you close.

"Gross." You say pushing his face away from you, you hope he can't see how red you are.

Why the hell was he like this? The past few months Gojo had been all over you. Be it flirty gestures or just plain Gojo weirdness, he was consuming every bit of you and you weren't sure if it was a bad thing.

"You're blushing," Megumi says

"Aha! I knew you wanted a kiss from me!" Gojo exclaims chasing after you as you try to escape up the stairs.

Seriously, is it a crime to toss a kid out a window?

March 2011 (Gojo: 21 You: 20)

The harsh slam of the front door wakes Gojo from the peace that had taken over the house. Megumi and Tsumiki had gone to bed and he was kicked back on the sofa, face mask on and Harry Potter was running on TV.

"I'm going to seriously kill that asshole one day." You groan as you rummage through the fridge

"I take it the meeting with Naoya didn't go well," Gojo said

"Didn't go well is the understatement of the millennium." You groan sitting down next to him a slice of cold pizza in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

"Tell me about it," Gojo says pulling your feet into his lap.

He listens to you vent about your "fiance" and how annoying he is. Naoya wants you to cut your hair a certain way and to stop wearing the color red. Apparently, you also need to start wearing lipstick now according to the man as well.

"Honestly I hope he gets hit by a bus tomorrow." You groan "And what the hell is wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing. I think it suits you nicely." Gojo smiles, knowing it's true. You're as pretty as a picture even when you're mad at the world.

"Thanks." You sigh "That wasn't the worst of it though"

"Oh? What else did the scumbag say this time?" Gojo asked, genuinely curious

"Well beyond my appearance, he asked if I was still a virgin today." You say

"Are you?"

"Ow!" Gojo yelps as he rubs his arm where you punched him

"Yeah, I am you idiot!" You seethe, placing your wine and half-eaten pizza on the coffee table, "He's only asking cuz' he found out that I'm spending time around you and I guess he's worried about impurity."

"We're just friends," Gojo says "Besides who cares if a girl's slept with someone before? I know I wouldn't."

His words feel like glue in his mouth. Can you tell he wants to be more than friends?

"I know that, and you know that. But he must think I'm whoring myself out to you in exchange for a place to live." You say sadly

Gojo can sense that Naoya's words are under your skin and bouncing around in that pretty head of yours. A head that should only be filled with the happiest of thoughts, preferably ones with him in it.

"Hey, forget about him. It's none of his business what company you keep and what you look like." He assures, reaching his arms out to pull you into his side.

"He's technically my fiance y'know." You sigh as you let him reposition your body so your head rests on his chest. "I'm supposed to want to please him since he's a man."

There's that stupid Zenin clan mindset, that Gojo can't stand.

"Screw that! Pleasing someone just cuz they're a guy is so 200 years ago." He says

"Tell me about it." You groan

"I could just send a hollow purple his way if you want." Gojo suggests, fully serious "Just a small one. It would be the perfect way to get rid of him."

"And what? Start a full-on war between two ancient clans over me?" You laugh

"Of course," Gojo confirms, pulling you closer to him

To him, you're worth starting a thousand wars if it means you'll finally let him be by your side all the time.

"By the way, is that a charcoal mask?" You ask

"Yup. Got it from the mall today, gotta stay hot for the single ladies out there."

"Gojo?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a really weird guy."

December 2011 (Gojo: 22 You: 21)

"We have to stay quiet, 'gumi." The girl reminds her little brother

"What's the point? How do we even know they'll like this?" He asked

"Who wouldn't enjoy breakfast in bed?" Tsumiki asked

She had a point.

"Yeah, but Gojo and Zenin don't even sleep in the same room. So are we surprising them separately?" Megumi asked as he poured orange juice into cups, he didn't think he had the balance to make it up the stairs with a tray of food.

"Nope! I checked Gojo's room before I woke you up. They're in his room together. I think she had a nightmare or something last night." Tsumiki says, "And we're not supposed to call her Zenin, remember? She said we could just use her first name."

"Oh, right," Megumi says

The couple? No, friends? Whatever they were, the two individuals that had taken him and his sister in were odd. Megumi was sure that Gojo was insane or maybe missing a piece of his brain. Just the other day Gojo had dangled him out the window for asking why he owned pink underwear as a 22-year-old. It was a genuine question on Megumi's part. As for you, you were definitely his favorite. You didn't try to dangle him out windows or mess up his hair, and most importantly you didn't constantly ask about his cursed technique.

Gojo was definitely the more annoying out of the two of you. How you put up with him was a mystery to Megumi. Tsumiki had once said that there was a "budding romance" between Gojo and You. Megumi thought she was reading too many of those romance books you bought her. Of course, he understood why she was saying that. You and Gojo were clearly close to each other, not to mention sometimes you even slept in each other's bedrooms. And then of course there's the many times when you're cooking and Gojo would wrap his arms around you from behind.

Alright, fine maybe Tsumiki was right about the romance.

"Alright, they're done. What do you think?" Tsumiki asks as she places two plates of something on the tray that sits in front of him.

"What are they?" He asks

"They're pancakes." Tsumiki blinked at Megumi as though it was obvious

"Right, of course." Megumi didn't want to make her angry, after all the last time they got in a fight Tsumiki pulled his hair so hard he swore he was partly bald in that spot for months.

"Ok lets go. You get the silverware and the drinks." She says

Gojo's bedroom is so dark, that Megumi nearly trips on his own feet as he blindly follows his sister.

Tsumiki carefully set the tray of food on the desk that was covered in various papers and candy wrappers. Why was Gojo such a slob? Tsumiki pulls the curtains open so the morning light can invade the space.

Megumi carefully observes the pair in bed. Gojo's arm is wrapped securely around you and your head rests on his chest. Megumi finds himself wondering if his father and mother were ever like this. Not that it matters since he can't even remember either of them.

"Surprise!" Tsumiki shouts and Gojo's eyes fly open

"Whaaats going on?" You ask groggily

"We made breakfast!" Tsumiki smiles placing the tray in front of the two adults.

"I have orange juice." Megumi mumbles

"Oh wow!" You smile, rubbing at your eyes, and immediately sit up.

"What is it?" Gojo asks, white hair messier than usual.

Megumi knew it wasn't obvious that they were pancakes.

"Pancakes of course!" You smile at them and Megumi doesn't miss how you pinch Gojo and whisper "be nice" to the white-haired man.

"They have blueberries in them," Megumi says

Gojo's face falls at the idea of a breakfast lacking sugar.

"And chocolate chips." Tsumiki chimes in

Gojo's face is all smiles again as he cuts into the food.

"How is it?" His sister eagerly asks

"It's wonderful. Delicious. Thank you, Tsumiki and Megumi." You compliment

A wide smile breaks out across his sister's face and she grabs Megumi by the arm.

"Alright, we'll let you two eat in peace then." She smiles, practically skipping out of the room.

Just before Megumi closes the door, hushed voices reach his ears.

"Can I spit this out now? I don't think it's edible." Gojo asks

"I think mine has some eggshell in it." You reply

Hushed laughter follows and Megumi smiles to himself. Sure, the two of you were crazy but he wouldn't trade it for the world.

February 2012 (Gojo: 22 You: 21)

Gojo was sure he was actually insane. What the hell was he thinking buying this for you?

The ruby red box felt like a lead weight in his pocket as he approached you while you were slicing vegetables for tonight's supper. Maybe he shouldn't do this while you had a knife in your hand. What if you stabbed him? Well, his infinity would catch it, but still.

"Can I uh...talk to you?" He asked, well...no going back now

"Yeah, what's up?" You ask

"Can I talk to you without the knife in your hand?" He asks

"Satoru Gojo what did you do?" You accuse, immediately focusing on you

"Nothing! Why do you assume I did something?!" He cries

"Because the last time you started a sentence with "without the knife in your hand" You had encouraged Megumi to fight his school bully and then you got a call that Megumi punched a girl two years younger than him." You say

Oh right. He forgot about that.

"Alright well, no children were harmed this time. Now put the knife down." He said

You listen and he takes a big breath, he's going to need all the oxygen for this one.

"Look it might be stupid and I know Valentine's Day was last week but I got you something and I wanted to give it to you. I've actually had it since December but I keep chickening out" He explained fishing the box out of his pocket

"If that's an engagement ring I'll get the knife back out." You say eying him suspiciously.

"What? No! That would be crazy." Gojo laughs, he can feel his face burning. Fuck...he must be bright red.

"Alright good." You say taking the box

Gojo fidgets with the string that's sticking out of the sleeve of his shirt as you look at what he's done.

"Do you uh like it?" He asked

"I do. Why'd you get it for me?" You ask

Wasn't it obvious? He'd buy the whole universe for you if he could.

"You really don't have any idea?" He asks

"No...I don't." You say

Your face is relaxed, you're definitely not lying to him. You seriously have no idea that he's totally obsessed with you!

"Are you gonna say it? I still have to cut some carrots up." You sigh

Gojo lets out a noise that's so insane sounding he swears he got possessed by some evil spirit.

"I got it cuz' I thought it'd look great on you!" The words are coming out of his mouth like vomit, " And I really uh...uhm...I like you."

The last bit is so quiet he's sure you didn't hear it.

"Wow did I just get a shoujo romance confession from the Satoru Gojo himself?" You tease as his gaze remains fixed on his feet.

"Whatever. If you don't want it I'll take it back tomorrow." He grumbled

Silence falls over the two of you like a blanket and Gojo wishes he could bury himself alive. Of course, she's making fun of you! She's engaged! She's been engaged since she was 15! One necklace won't change that! Sure, her fiance was a total buttwipe but still...

"Satoru,"

His first name coming from your lips for the first time ever has his gaze snapping back up. He wishes that you'd say his name like that forever.

"I'm only teasing you. I like you too. I have for a while." You admit

"How long is a while?" He prods, suddenly filled with confidence

"None of your business, mister. Are you going to help me put this on?" You gesture to the box

Gojo is as gentle as he can be as he clips the necklace behind your neck.

"How do I look?" You ask

"Perfect." He smiles and pulls you towards him.

"I smell, Satoru. I haven't gotten to shower yet and I exrocsied a curse at a school earlier." You softly say

"Mmm, you smell good to me." Gojo says "You're always absolutely perfect. And now you're all mine."

An elated giggle leaves his body as he finally gets to kiss you for the first time. If only his 17-year-old self could see him now.

"That's disgusting."

You jump away from him and he wishes you hadn't.

"Megumi, how was school?" You ask and Gojo doesn't miss the way you're obviously flustered.

"It was good. Until I came home to see that." He says

"Well get used to it cuz' you'll be seeing a lot more of it." Gojo grins as he pulls you towards him and tosses an arm around your shoulders.

"She's all mine now, little man. You're not allowed to give her a Valentine's Day card ever again!"

"Satoru, stop that!"

"So are you two finally dating?" Tsumiki asked hopefully

"Course' we are. You don't come home to two people sucking face and expect them not to be officially a couple."

Gojo deserves the punch to the stomach you give him before resuming your vegetable cutting.

Next Part

Series Masterlist / My Masterlist

[jirishnesensei]

geto suguru x reader | college au [18+]

offscript ch.1 be my lead

༺ Pairing. college au - volleyball player! geto x cinematography major! reader (f)

༺ summary - In the chaotic world of college life, you should have expected your drama production to turn south as fast as it did. When your lead actor drops out just weeks before the play, you’re left scrambling to salvage the show that means everything to you. Enter Geto Suguru—talented, charming, and the last person you’d expect to help. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and you find yourself convincing him to step into the spotlight.

༺ warnings/tags - 18+, fluff, angst, smut, fem reader, romance, pining, slow burn, friends to lovers (I guess strangers to friends to lovers), acting, college au, alcohol/drugs, injury, unrequited love, jealousy, Geto is bad at feelings, swearing

༺ status - ongoing

༺ chapters - 1/x

༺ word count - 4.6k

"You belong with me. You've always belonged with me." Emi cried. Her hand is clutched to her heart, and her voice trembles, afraid that her confession may push him away.

Kazuki looks between both her eyes with such yearning. He lifts his hand slowly and sweet, cupping her tear stained cheek as though she were some figment of his imagination.

"I love -"

The actor froze. He swallows thickly, changing his weight between both his legs, then said, "I love." You clutch your pen because he was hesitating.

The stage grew quiet, waiting for his line. You glance at the script in your hand anxiously, and when the actor looks at you, you mouth the line for him, confused because his said it a million times. He looks back at the actress in front of him and you notice how the hand that held her cheek became more rough. His eyes no longer bore weight to the scripts words, and his mouth frowns into a deep, personal scowl.

"Fuck you."

The hall audibly gasps in a chorus, nevermind he had a mini microphone attached to his cheek.

The next second the lecturer is up in arms. Your friend Mai beside you looks at the script to see if there were any line changes she didn't know about, but of course there wasn't.

Cecilia, the actress, has her lips parted just barely in a trembling frown. What you assume to be real tears start streaming down her face as she watches Jean, your actor and her boyfriend, drop the script to the floor, jump off the stage and grab his bag, beelining it straight for the doors.

"What the hell is his problem?" Your friend Mai stands abruptly beside you amidst the chaos. She glares at Jean, then rounds the table and goes straight for Cecilia and you? Well, you wish you could say you had just an inkling of moral to check up on her, but the only realization managing to bypass your conscious is the fact that your only male lead is speeding towards the exit door.

"Wait!" He starts walking faster when you call. You run to his side and grip his arm desperately. "Jean, just wait. Talk to me, what the hell happened?" You look between both his eyes for some kind of answer but now that you were in front of him, the entrance light beaming down the rows of seats, you could just make out the tears that were brimming in his eyes and I don't know, there's just something about men crying that gets you feeling like you're going to cry yourself.

"She cheated." He says, as if it were physically hurting him to pull those words out of his throat.

your eyes widen, and it's the first moment you stop thinking about your play. "she what?"

"She fucking cheated," He laughs pitifully at himself, aggressively wiping his palm against his cheek over and over to the point where it was turning pink. "And you wanna know with who?"

You fumble a couple filler words, expecting him to be rhetorical, but no, he wanted an actual answer. "C'mon, guess. There's only a few people worth fucking over a 4 year relationship for."

You flinch at his tone, "I don't know."

"It was Geto. Geto fucking... I mean what the hell am I supposed to do when she cheats on me with a guy like that?" His voice cracks when he speaks so he quickly turns his head away so you don't notice, but the damage was done, you could hear him sniffling and it made your heart crack into two uneven pieces.

"Shit...I'm..." You straighten up, standing there awkwardly now as he tries to stop himself from crying in front of you. The name he mentions is not foreign to you. Probably not foreign to anybody, really. "... Jean I'm so sorry."

"It doesn't matter." He shakes your arm off of him that you forgot was even still holding on and presses his lips tightly together as if there was so much more he wanted to say, but he doesn't. "I'm sorry, but I can't be in this show anymore. Not when she's - " when he looks at you, all the raw emotion he was letting off was thrown into your face like a reality check that he was not in the right state of mind to negotiate. As someone who does theatre work as her major, emotions were something you learned to pick up on pretty easily and Jeans... you actually felt scared standing before him with just how unpredictable he looked, so you take a step back and nod sympathetically.

"I understand."

Then he leaves. Without another word. Slamming the doors against the wall and leaving it swinging in his wake. When he's out of sight, your mind starts to pick up on all the commotion that's happening behind you. Cecilia is a crying mess on top of the stage, and everybody is out of their positions trying to comfort her or get the tea on what really happened. 

"Hey, what did he tell you?" Your friend Mai finally jogs over, concern written all over her face. You link your hands behind your neck and sigh.

"We just lost our lead."

you cancel the rest of the session. Having no lead made it immensely difficult for you to continue so you pack your bag with your script and belongings uncaringly. Most people have already left except for Mai, but someone walks up to you and you could feel yourself teetering the edge of breaking down.

"I don't know when the next rehearsal will be."

"It's me." Your hands freeze mid stuffing your jacket inside to look up at Cecilia who stood in front of you. Eyes all red and puffy, with faded lines of mascara running down her cheeks. You'd think she was the one that got cheated on. You straighten up and gesture to the chair beside you.

"Do you want to sit?" You offer but she shakes her head. 

"I just-" she takes a deep breath in, ringing her hands together nervously. "I just wanted to apologize to you. Formally. I really messed up and -" she starts to cry again and it took you by surprise, not moving for a few seconds before you quickly walk around your table to offer her a consoling hand.

"sh sh sh, you really don't have to explain."

Mai was a ways to the side, noticing you were preoccupied so she gave a sympathetic look then continued to close up the stage for you. You mouth a 'thank you' to her from over Cecelia's shoulder.

"But aren't you angry with me?" Cece is now wailing into her palms. You try and soothe her by rubbing her back, but it didn't seem to offer much, so you stretch over the table to your tote bag and grab the mini tissue packet for her. She takes it and really goes at it, "I fucked up so bad, but now I ruined your show too. I know you worked so hard on it-"

"Its fine cece." You squeeze her shoulders and bend down a little to look into her eyes. "Seriously, don't worry about it. Do you think I don't have a replacement?"

she sniffles, lifting her head up. "I thought you said you didn't prepare for one?..."

you give her a reassuring smile. "This is the biggest show of my life, of course I prepared for one."

That seems to calm her down a little bit because she's not crying anymore, but still she wipes her eyes. "If I can do anything to help, please let me know." 

You narrow your eyes at her, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "You should just go home and rest. I'll call you when rehearsal starts up again."

She suddenly comes in for a tight hug and although you work with her, you don’t really know her personally, so you awkwardly return it with a few pats on the back but then you think she probably really needs it so you squeeze her back instead. When she thanks you and turns to leave, she stops mid-step like she wants to say something.

"um, did he... did he say anything to you when you stopped him?" She can't look into your eyes when she asks. You think it's probably out of guilt, who really knows, but there's this ugly feeling in your chest that makes you think that Jean was probably telling you the truth. You don't want to get into the middle of anything, though, so you shake your head.

"Just that you guys had some problems."

She nods but leaves with a heavy cloud over her head.

---

"Cheated?" Mai scoffs beside you as you and her walked along the colonnade outside campus, a disgusted expression on her face. "And I consoled her."

You weren't listening to much of what she said since you had your own problems to figure out. Like for one, who in the world was going to replace your lead.

"So what're you going to do?" Mai sighs and frowns when she sees how despondent you look, poking at your ice cream in a cup that you bought from some fundraising group in the university. You think it's for the Volleyball team if you're not mistaken.

Despite having told Cece that you had a replacement for Jeans' role, you didn't actually have one. Something about nobody was good enough or whatever high horse reasoning you had at the time.

"do you think I could bribe Mr Sayako into giving me an extension?" You ask Mai and she shakes her head.

"Wouldn't work hun, this was already your extension, remember?"

"Okay sure, but what the hell? he saw what happened up there. How could I have planned for that?"

"I guess it's worth a shot, but what happens if he says no?"

You sigh, then take a mouthfull of your sugary treat and speak through it. "Look for a washed-up new lead, I guess,"

"What? you're just going to give up?" 

"mm," You shake your head, taking the spoon out of your mouth so you could talk, "its not giving up. I'm accepting reality."

"That's giving up." She sweatdrops, watching you juggle your envelope and ice cream in one hand while you fish in your back pocket for your phone.

"whatever." You say, taking it out and already looking for an Uber nearby so you can wallow in your bed with that entire bottle of wine you had planned on popping for your opening night, but that didn't seem like it was going to happen. Mai suddenly takes your shoulder, and it stops you from clicking accept.

"I have a crazy idea." She says. She's peeked your interest enough to make you drop your arm, but you don't respond. "Why don't you ask Geto to be your lead?" 

You deadpan. "are you insane?" it seems the more seconds that go by the more she seems convinced that she actually thought of something brilliant. 

"I went to high school with him and he did a class play once and by the gods he was fucking phenomenal."

"a class play?" You repeat like the word was foreign to your tongue. 

"yeah!"

"Like informal and for marks?"

"Yeah? Why do I feel like you're being condescending."

you look at her funnily. "oh, is that the word?" you stuff your phone back into your pocket. "You can't possibly think because he was good in a class play he'd be good to act in front of an entire audience on a stage in make up and costume?"

"You're not listening to me!" She whines and shakes your shoulders. Her excessive persistence makes you groan, flailing your one unoccupied arm at her to push her away.

"he was fucking great! Like professional great! Every acting club begged for him to join, even I begged him once but he said no cause he was doing volleyball or whatever-" she stops talking when a sports committee student randomly stops her and shoves a flyer into her hands while you continue to walk, "Sure, thanks," she absent-mindedly answers then catches up to you, "seriously, he was really good. I can guarantee you he would be much better than any random person you find now. With all the good actors taken he's your best shot."

You scoff, taking a spoon out of your ice cream again. "best shot..." you mutter then stop walking. "ok fine, lets say he actually is as good as you say he is, what makes you think I can convince him?"

You give her a couple seconds so that the gears could turn in her head, but the disappointment never hits, and her expression changes like a lightbulb flashing yellow, "You can be very persuasive." Is her counterargument.

You raise a brow at her instead of answering, so she gives you one of her meanest glares. "Why are you being so difficult right now?"

"Because I'm not in the mood to make a fool out of myself with someone I don't even know not to mention, incase you forgot, he is literally the reason my first lead quit on me!"

"and some people fuck their CEO to get a promotion!"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

She rolls her eyes impatiently.

"You have been trying to get picked up on your writing for years now. Are you seriously willing to just throw all that away just so you can say a couple of years down the line 'at least I maintained my morals for that play'?" She looks at you genuinely concerned, and it makes you frown.

"No..."

"Then you can't be thinking about everyone else's feelings (y/n). You do what you gotta do."

"But what if-"

"Zip it." She takes your ice cream and it makes you frown harder. "It's just one audition. You miss all the shots you don't take, remember?" 

You press your lips into a tight line and narrow your eyes. Nothing you said would go through her thick skull, and admittedly, a part of you was already convinced. Mai glances down at the flyer in her hand and is about to throw it away when she gasps and starts to shove it in your face.

"You cannot tell me this isn't a sign!"

You send her an irritated look when she doesn't stop the shoving and forcibly pull the flyer out of her hand to read it. And in clear-cut bold, it says:

Volleyball Team try-outs!

The gym will be closed for the next month in order to facilitate the try-outs and training of new team members.

Trials start on the 27th of May and ends on the 21st of June

Make the time and become a part of the Todai Volleyball team!

It was professionally designed with a team photo transparently printed behind the font, too. It was a testiment to just how much the school adored their volleyball team, handing out these flyers to just about anybody that has a pair of hands, going off of the stack that was in that guys arms.

The date, however, was the most jarring because it couldn't have been more perfect, giving Geto, if he had to agree, the perfect opportunity to help you out and not clash with his practices.

Mai gasps, her line of sight just past your head. "Speak of the devil!" She grips your arm and forces your attention to the right. You feel your chest tighten when you see him in all his glory, Geto Suguru, and a few other guys you recognize as a part of the team around him. They just walked out of the econ building and you can already notice the attention they were getting.

Mai is suddenly pushing against your back fervently. "Now's your chance, c'mon! Let's go!"

"What?!" You look back at her like she's gone mental. "Now? You want me to go now?" 

"When else?!"

"I didn't even prepare anything! Don't I only have one shot?!"

"Yes and this is it! You're the most persuasive when you don't overthink anything. Just ask him and don't be a pussy about it!"

She pushes you hard, and it's enough to get you to start walking his way anxiously, looking back at her enthusiastic smile as she gives you two thumbs up like a mum sending her child off to school.

You sigh pitifully, shaking your head. What in the world has your life come to? Just now you had the perfect cast, the perfect script, and now you're going to beg and grovel to someone you've never even spoken to before? you suppose, if he does actually agree by some miracle, then you wouldn't mind. But that was one big miracle and you don't think you've done enough good deeds to warrant that.

You adjust your navy blue headband to neaten out the baby strands that were sticking out. The rowdiness of the group with their deep, masculine laughter, trying to speak over one another was becoming abundantly clear as you neared, although Geto seemed to be the only one that's not trying to scream over his teammates. You neatened your buttoned up white shirt, unrolled your black jersey sleeves, and lifted your pants up with the hoops of the waistband. 

"god... here we go," you mutter. "excuse me." you say loud enough to catch the attention of just the right person right as a guy behind him gave a solid slap on his back and exclaimed a this guys worse, dude before following the group further down the pavement, leaving you alone with Geto.

You give him your best smile, waving your hand but also mentally aware to not actually swoon over him because wow, up close you could just tell he was a man made with love. 

He’s tall, atleast six feet tall which is well above your head and there's a slight sag to his shoulders with effortless bedroom eyes. He has long, thick hair that you'd kill for, tied in a messy high bun that suggests he didn’t bother with it after his practice and he loosely grips a half-empty water bottle, droplets still clinging to the sides with one hand casually inside his long white and blue athletic pants coupled with his sports jacket that's only zipped three-quarter of the way, just enough to reveal a glint of a silver chain resting against his collarbone. The sleeves of his jacket are casually rolled up to his elbows, too, with his one arm sporting a niche black watch that looked like it wouldn't have the numbers on it. You hope you didn't pan up his physique. You just couldn't help but notice how effortlessly stylish he looked, and you started to get your hopes up that maybe Mai was onto something.

You notice he looks a bit pensive by your sudden approach, a light crease forming in his eyebrows as if trying to recognize you, but it quickly disappears the same moment his eyes flicker to your hands that still hold your small admissions envelope that you got signed to book out the hall for your shows opening night.

“I don’t think you know me,” you say, and he naturally switches into this approachable demeanor with a light smile, shaking his head that makes his bangs sway gently.

“No, I don’t think I do.” He turns away from his retreating friends to give you his full attention, and his voice catches you so off guard. You suppose, there’s a delicateness to him that you hadn’t anticipated.

“I’m (y/n),” you introduce yourself. He nods, acknowledging you. “Geto.” he says as if not everybody already knew who he was.

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and exhale, suddenly feeling nervous.

“So, listen... I don’t want to waste your time, so I’ll just cut to the chase. I’m producing this show, and I’d really like for you to audition to be my lead -" Your words trail off as you notice his expression change.

"A show?" He repeats. There’s suddenly an intensity in his gaze that makes you want to apologize for even asking because it feels like you’ve wronged him somehow. You just nod. "Yeah...or like a play, whichever works..." 

“Oh.” You hear the disinterest in his tone, but he covers it up with a polite smile, “Thank you, but I’ll have to decline. I’m really busy with volleyball practice.”

"I know you're busy," you cut him off, taking a step closer but remember you can't come off as desperate despite how much you actually are. "my play's opening night is June 23rd, and I know your practices are on hold now for the next month with the trials starting up."

He stares at you for a few seconds, almost like a deer caught in headlights and then he chuckles.

"You really did your homework."

You give him a weak smile, shrugging. "If I'm going to ask you I think it's only safe measure to know my information, right? This wouldn't be just for me either. This would be really good exposure for you too. I have pretty top end agencies attending the play and you never know. They may just be interested in what they see."

He hums, crossing his arms and getting more comfortable on his feet. It takes everything in you to not glance at how nice his arms probably look across his chest.

"But I'm pursuing volleyball, what need would I have for acting agencies?"

"Well, they're not just looking for actors," A gust of wind blows some of your hair over your lips, so you lift your hand to hold it to the side. He notices the movement. "they could use you for the sports magazine, publicize your skills, your credentials. It could easily bring nationwide attention for you to be on that."

You feel a sense of pride when Geto’s demeanor shifts subtly from uninterested to genuinely intrigued. You’ve cast the line, and now you just need to reel him in.

“Hm,” he exhales, shoulders dropping slightly. “How long is it again?”

"one month. Give or take a few days."

"and you want me to audition?"

"Yeah, any day this week is cool but preferably as soon as possible."

He raises a brow and by the tug of his lip you're assuming he found something amusing. "So wait, you are producing what sounds like the most important play of your life and you're only now looking for a lead?"

You flush at his comment, looking away sheepishly at the students exiting the campus doors. Sharp as a knife this one...

"That's a... It's a really long story, but you don't have to worry about that, I have a complete team that's ready to go at a moments notice. I just need my lead."

He taps his finger over his bicep, nibbling on the inside of his cheek as if he's thinking about it and you think you might have convinced him, but then he shakes his head again and this time he's halfway turning around with a hand raised.

"Sorry, but I'm just not interested. Good luck with your search though." then he leaves, catching up with his friends. Your jaw literally drops. He asked all those questions just to fucking say no?! 

In his defense he was surprisingly polite, but you couldn't care less about that as you feel your frustration start to fester, all the events of the day coming to a boiling point. Without thinking and with really nothing to lose, you yell:

"You owe me, you asshole!"

and he turns, so damn fast you're surprised he didn't get whiplash. His face was just screaming for you to repeat that and you did. Gladly.

"You think I don't know? sleeping around with girls that are already taken!?"

you don't even know when it happened or how in the world he moved so fast but you're suddenly pushed back into campus with a very strong hand, dragged into a random empty lecture hall as if you weren't a fully grown adult yourself and then despite how much Geto tried to whisper, he echoed in the large room.

"What the fuck is your problem?" He demands while looming over you and usually you'd be intimidated by a man as dominating as him but in this current moment you could only glare and channel every nerve of frustration into the conversation.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" You press a finger into his hard chest. "Sleeping with someone that's already taken- Do you have any idea how hard I worked, how long I slaved away at this show just to have it ruined because you couldn't keep it in your pants for someone that's available?!"

Geto’s eye twitches, and for a moment, you think he’s going to yell back at you. But instead, he takes a step back, running a hand through his messy hair and forces himself to stay calm.

“Look,” he says, “I don’t know what you think you know, but whatever happened between me and... whoever, it’s not my fault your show is falling apart.”

You let out a bitter laugh, looking away and shaking your head. “Cecilia. And of course, it’s not your fault. It’s never the other person's fault, right? You just waltz into people’s lives, do whatever the hell you want, and leave them and others to deal with the mess.”

Geto’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as he stares down at you. “I didn’t ask that girl to be unfaithful, I didn't even know she was, and I sure as hell didn’t ask to be dragged into this drama. So why don’t you stop blaming me for your problems?”

“oh, my bad, you’re right. You didn’t ask for this so that just means all of the problems you had a hand in just fall away." You take a step closer, teetering the edge of calm and blowing a fuse, " I don't know if anyone's ever told you this, but your actions have consequences you know. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of the reason why things went south. Why I don't have my lead anymore. You could at least try to be an adult about it by taking some responsibility instead of just acting innocent.” Your phone starts buzzing in your back pocket, and you see it's Mai texting you, but you quickly turn it off.

You don't see his expression soften slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he considers your words. “And you really think being in your play is going to make up for it?”

Your ears perk when you hear the opportunity in his voice and you look back at him, noticing how he seems to be considering you, “It’s a start,” you plead, “I know it’s a long shot, but it’s all I’ve got. I’ve worked so hard on this, and I’m not ready to give it all up when I'm so close to the end."

You watch his chest rise and fall with a deep breath as he turns his head to look away from you and instead at the empty seats in the lecture hall. Long lashes flutter against the top of his cheeks every time he blinks. You hate the fact that you think about how unfairly attractive he is in the moment. After a long pause, he finally looks back at you, his expression unreadable.

“Fine,” he says quietly and your eyes widen. “I’ll audition. But that’s all I’m promising. If I don’t like it, I’m out.”

You can't control how shocked you look when he acquiesces. Honestly, you didn't expect anything out of this after calling him out the way you did and just started running your mouth to let off some steam, but maybe he really did feel bad. “s-seriously? Oh my god, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he warns, the seriousness in his tone cutting through your relief. “Like I said, this doesn’t mean I’m committed. I’ll give it a shot, but if I’m not into it, that’s it.”

“I understand,” you say, quickly nodding. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Geto takes a step back, leaning on the edge of the lecturers table with one palm holding his wrist. “So when should I come in to audition?”

"Uh-... " Your mind runs blank, you hadn't expected to come this far. You scramble for your phone to check the schedule you’d painstakingly put together, but not a single slot was available. "How's tomorrow afternoon?" You look at him.

Geto raises an eyebrow. “Afternoon works. What time are we talking?”

You tap on your phone screen with your painted nail, trying to appear confident despite the nerves. “How about 4pm?”

“Sounds good," he tilts his head and his eyes get smaller like he's plotting something. "but only if you agree to one condition.”

"condition?”

"yes," a witty smile plays on his lips. “I want an iced coffee,"  His shoulders raise as he shrugs. "It's the least you could do after nearly tarnishing my name out there."

You blink, momentarily taken aback by such an innocent request. “uh, yeah sure. I can do that. Is that all?"

He gives you a pointed look before he walks over to you. You feel yourself straighten by the approach. "You make it sound like that's an easy condition, but I'm a very hard man to satisfy." He stops in front of you, and you have to crane your neck to keep eye-contact. "But for now, yes." his eyes flicker between yours and the faint smell of cologne consumes you. "That's all."

You get a bit overwhelmed by his unwavering eyes so you look away into your tote bag. You swear he becomes just a little bit smug by it. "And, um, here’s the script." You pull out your personal script since it was the only one you had on hand. When Geto looks at the worn-out, slightly crumpled script covered in handwritten notes, annotations, and sticky tabs, his gaze softens, and he takes it tentatively from you.

“I know it looks like a mess, but it’s got all the notes and directions you’ll need. Just ignore the scribbles if they get in your way—most of it is just me trying to make sense of everything.” You adjust your bag strap sheepishly while Geto cards through the pages with his thumb. 

"You're really passionate about this." He glances at you and you're not even paying attention to him anymore. Your eyes are trained on the script in his hands like it was your holy bible and it might as well have been.

"Hm, I've been working on it since the start of the semester. I'm hoping to get picked up with this bad boy." You look back at him, and you're suddenly giving off a much softer vibe. He thought how strange it was that you saw no issue in handing over probably your most prized possession to a complete stranger. He sighs and then tucks the script to his side. "I’ll see you at the audition, then.”

You smile back at him. "hm, see you then. And thank again. Really."

he hums and walks past you to the door, brushing his arm against yours where you could feel the cold fabric touch your skin, the tension in your chest finally starts to ease. Just as he reaches the exit, he pauses and glances back at you.

“And for the record,” he adds, his voice carrying easily across the empty room, “you’ve got guts. Not many people would call me out like that.”

With that, he leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. You stand there for a moment, still processing everything that just happened. Your heart is still racing, but it’s no longer from anger or frustration. It’s from a strange, tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, things might work out after all. When you leave the class you're surprised to see Mai just a meter away, gnawing at her nails with the most horrified expression on her face. When she sees you she doesn't waste time to grab your arm and drag you out of the campus building. "I told you to convince him to audition, not fucking call him out, you idiot!"

You laugh at her, holding her hand that's on your forearm. "Do I have some good news for you."

✧You're all caught up!

[pseudowho]

When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city, to see a marching band.

He said, "Son, when you grow up, will you be the saviour of the broken, the beaten and the damned?"

He said, "Will you defeat them? Your demons, and all the non-believers, the plans that they have made?"

"Because one day, I'll leave you, a phantom to lead you in the summer, to join the black parade."

-- The Black Parade, My Chemical Romance

[777gojosgf]

HE WAS A MAN OF HIS WORD

nanami kento x reader in which: flowers are the symbol of your relationship.

a fluff drabble written by seven.

after weeks of gaining to courage to formally ask you out, he finally did and it ever so made you fall head over heels for him. you hadn’t met anyone before who was so gentle with you and so loving; he understood and took the time to get to know you from the inside out much unlike your previous exes.

but what truly stuck was the bewildered look on your face the minute he picked you up from your apartment for the first date you two had. he had called one of the most luxurious restaurants in the city for a reservation for two even though you told him that he really didn’t have to do that. a simple restaurant or even takeout would have sufficed but he didn’t want to hear any of it.

he arrived with a bouquet of red roses, quite stereotypical but not the less romantic. a smile plastered onto your face with the joy shone so bright on your face he made a mental note to always bring you flowers.

he already intended to do so, but seeing the look of your face only made him want to do it more.

upon the arrival at the restaurant, he guided you with his hand placed upon your lower back. quite bold on the first date but he was ready to risk it, but you pressing your back into him only made him force down a swallow to refrain touching you even more. it wasn’t polite.

but god, the things he wanted to do wouldn’t meet the politeness list either.

the dinner went by perfectly, constantly being upheld in a new conversation which varied about dream vacation destinations to the favorite kind of pastries. he had told you about a new bakery opening around the corner of the workplace the two of you shared and promised to take you there the next time the two of you shared the same work break.

you were truly enamored by him and his laugh that somehow only elicited by the jokes you made. that’s what he liked a lot about you, you always knew how to lighten him up with your remarks back when the two of you were merely coworkers.

but you were never just coworkers.

the stolen glances and lingering around his desk for a second too long only added upon the obvious.

but there was truly no resisting nanami.

fast forward to many dates later and he had officially asked you to be his girlfriend alongside a new bouquet of flowers, this time them being white lilies paired with pink tulips.

he knew you liked that combination when he took you to the bakery, but as you walked towards it, you noticed a flower store and couldn't stop glancing at the arrangement. even after picking it up and smelling it, he smiled softly, echoing the expression on his face, and after work, he offered you a ride home, which you graciously accepted. after he dropped you off, he handed you the same bouquet you had been eyeing, leaving you breathless and unsure what to say.

after months of sharing day and night together, you gradually moved into his apartment. it began with the casual drawer assigned to you, followed by him purchasing your full skincare routine and other often used things, such as your preferred perfume, so you wouldn't have to return to your place to retrieve it. you eventually went out and purchased a white marble vase, which enhanced the contrast of every bouquet he purchased for you.

the bouquets he brought you usually contained some hidden note. you remember when one night the two of you had a heated argument in his apartment that eventually proceeded to him leaving and you cursed yourself for letting something so small and insignificant blow out of proportion. but when he came back with a bouquet of white gardenias, holding one up to signify the definition of a white flag you let out a relief laugh before falling into his embrace.

he had popped the question one time when you were over at his place, and told him that it might be fun to cook together to which he agreed. nanami couldn’t ever say no to you, not because of the adorable look you gave him with that slight glint of mischief in your eyes that would make him run from hell to back just to see it once more, but because he physically couldn’t.

so when the two of you were making pasta from scratch, the dough being kneaded by him as the flour was still resting upon your cheeks and nose, watching him intensely while sitting on the counter he couldn’t help but blurt it out, “y/n, would you like to move in with me?”

at first, you stared at him, puzzled, your eyes expanding and your lips open, attempting to compose a phrase from which little came. but the fact that you jumped off the counter and turned around to kiss him passionately was enough for him, and the pasta was long forgotten when he led you to the bedroom.

now, he couldn’t even remember the days that you weren’t living with him. and he found joy in coming home to you to find you resting on the couch, your eyes closed as the tiredness of staying up until one am lulled you into a slumber and he only smiled at the look on your face. the bouquet was placed upon the coffee table as he took off his shoes and wandered over to you, planting a kiss on your temple before gently carrying you bridal style towards the bedroom.

the movement had slowly woken you up and with narrowed eyes you watched him carrying you. “ken?” you drawled out and he only shushed you gently. “don’t worry love,” he paused while placing you down on the bed, “i’ll join you soon.”

flowers, flowers and more flowers.

the apartment you shared was now decorated to reflect both of your personalities. nanami’s preference for minimalist and modern style, along with your plants and cosy decor, creates a more homely atmosphere. he allowed you do whatever you wanted, and it was a pleasant surprise to come home and see that you had moved some things around or to have you walk up to him overjoyed about the latest purchases.

he just loved everything you did.

so it came as no surprise that a year later, he stood before you on one knee, the diamond ring glittering brightly under the chandelier, and you quickly moved in for a hug, followed by a kiss—having long forgotten the physical ring and focused more on the fact that you would become officially his.

the room was filled with flowers and candles, and you had no idea when he told you to go all out when dressing if you wished. nanami knew you'd be disappointed if he didn't offer you any hints, but he did just in case, because he knows you. he had gotten to know you and who you are, which only added to his desire to be there for you. to look after you, be by your side, and love you unconditionally.

when you found yourself in the aisle, with every visitor rising up and your gaze drawn to his who stood at the altar, your gaze fell on his pocket. typically, the groom would have only one flower in there, if any at all. but nanami had a modest arrangement of flowers in his pocket, including red roses, white lilies, pink tulips, and white gardenias—that's when you knew you'd made the right decision.

because the right choice would always be him.

the red roses represented the first date, the white lilies and pink tulips were bouquets you received every time he walked by the bakery and returned home to you, and the white gardenias represented every time the two of you reconciled after a fight.

to be loved is to be known.

to be seen.

and he would spend the rest of his life proving that he did.

a/n: my first time writing for nanami!! i hope u like it lol. be sure to check out my gojo fanfics if you enjoyed this one x

love,

seven.

©777gojosgf

[winxanity-ii]

Had a dream where Nanami has cold hands and Reader has warm hands. So Nanami likes to hold Reader’s hands a lot.

“Your hands are warm...” he said softly, he had a really soft look on his face, maybe longing?

“You’re hands are so cold!” I say in shock as I try to warm up one of his hands.

hehehe, hope you enjoy it.. ❤️

ICE TO THE TOUCH

ship: nanami x fem!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 2.6k A/N: just a cute lil one-shot that was requested...

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

The sky outside your apartment was a canvas of dark greys, heavy clouds rolling lazily across the city skyline.

The rain had been relentless since the early hours of the morning, painting the world in a muted palette of blues and silvers. You sat perched on the windowsill, fingers wrapped around a warm mug of tea, your breath fogging up the glass as you watched the storm rage on.

The city seemed quieter like this, blanketed under the weight of the downpour. The sound of rain pattering against the window was comforting—a rhythmic lullaby that made the world beyond the glass feel distant, almost unreal.

You shifted slightly, the oversized sweater draped over your frame shifting with you; it was so large that it nearly swallowed you whole.

The sleeves slipped past your hands, the hem brushing against your knees as you absentmindedly pushed the fabric up for the umpteenth time, your fingertips peeking out just enough to cradle the warm mug.

It was late, the kind of late where the day still clung stubbornly to the edges of dusk, refusing to let go. The city lights were muted under the grey veil of clouds, and for a moment, everything felt still.

Peaceful.

You took another sip of your tea, the warmth spreading through you as your gaze drifted to the dark clouds above.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't hear the keys jingling until the front door creaked open. A familiar hulking figure shuffled inside, letting out a tired groan that made your lips curve into a smile.

You turned slightly, glancing over your shoulder.

"Rough day at work?" you teased softly, the corners of your mouth lifting as you watched your fiancé struggle to kick off his shoes without collapsing from exhaustion.

Nanami Kento, still in his slightly rumpled suit, grumbled something incoherent under his breath, his voice low and gravelly from hours of strain. He tossed his jacket over the back of the couch and set his briefcase down with a heavy sigh. "Dumbass Gojo," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I swear... He's going to be the death of me."

You chuckled softly, turning back to look out at the rain as Kento shuffled over to the couch, slumping down with another groan. His usual sharp demeanor was completely undone, replaced by a rare vulnerability as he rubbed a hand over his face.

The sight made your heart ache a little.

You knew how much he cared and how seriously he took his work. But sometimes, it took a toll on him.

Setting your mug down on the windowsill, you slipped off your perch and padded over to him, your bare feet silent against the wooden floor.

The sweater hung loosely around your frame, the sleeves slipping past your hands again as you reached out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

"Want me to make you some tea?" you offered, your voice soft, the smile on your lips gentle as you looked down at him.

Kento cracked one eye open, his gaze softening when he saw you standing there, the light from the window casting a soft halo around you. "That would be nice," he murmured, his hand reaching out to take yours, his fingers cold against your warm skin. He squeezed your hand gently, the touch lingering.

You nodded, giving his hand a gentle squeeze in return before slipping away to the kitchen. You could feel his eyes on you, the warmth of his gaze lingering long after you'd turned away.

As you busied yourself with the kettle, you could hear him shifting on the couch, the soft rustle of fabric, and the quiet sigh that followed as he stretched out. You glanced over your shoulder, watching as he finally relaxed, the tension melting away from his broad shoulders as he let his head fall back against the cushions.

It wasn't long before you returned, a steaming cup of tea in your hands. Kento's eyes were closed, his breathing slow and steady, but he stirred as you approached, his fingers reaching out instinctively for yours.

You set the tea down on the coffee table, leaning down to give him a small kiss before padding back over to your little spot.

It wasn't long before Kento joined you by the windowsill, his large frame blocking out the wanning light as he leaned down. Without warning, he slid his arms under your knees and back, scooping you up effortlessly as he maneuvered himself into your spot.

You let out a surprised shriek, dissolving into giggles as he shifted you around like you were nothing more than a cozy blanket.

His movements were deliberate, making sure you were positioned just right on his lap, your legs draped over his thighs and your back nestled against his broad chest.

"Kenni!" you squealed, your laughter filling the room as he settled in with a satisfied sigh. His large hands splayed across your thighs, pulling you closer against him, and you could feel the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

"Much better," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple before resting his chin on top of your head, his arms wrapping around you securely.

You snuggled into him, your head tucked under his chin as your fingers traced idle patterns on his chest. His hands rubbed soothingly along your spine, the pads of his fingers tapping rhythmically against your lower back.

It was a simple gesture, but it made your heart flutter all the same.

A peaceful silence settled over you both, the only sound being the soft patter of rain against the window and the distant hum of city life settling down outside.

You closed your eyes, content to simply bask in his presence, your earlier thoughts and worries slipping away like the rainwater trailing down the glass.

Kento was the first to break the silence, his voice a gentle murmur in your ear. "How was your day, love?"

You sighed softly, a small smile tugging at your lips as you shifted slightly in his lap, your cheek resting against his chest. "Well, the weather canceled half of my classes, so I had a lot more free time than I expected."

Kento hummed in acknowledgment, his hands stilling for a moment before resuming their gentle caress along your spine. "Did you use it to catch up on anything?"

You nodded, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt as you continued. "Yeah, actually. I finally had the chance to catch up on all that internet drama and conspiracy theories I’ve been neglecting." You chuckled, your voice light with amusement as you recalled the absurdity of it all. "You wouldn't believe some of the things people were talking about back in 2017-2019. It’s like a treasure trove of weird, forgotten nonsense."

Kento's chest rumbled with a soft laugh, his fingers tapping idly against your thigh. "Oh really? Like what?"

"Well," you began, shifting slightly to look up at him, "there was this whole thing about a supposed secret Hollywood cult that's been manipulating the media for decades." You rolled your eyes at the absurdity of it, your smile widening as Kento raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

"Hollywood cult?" he repeated, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "People actually believe that?"

"Oh, it gets better," you said, your voice brimming with enthusiasm as you launched into the details, recounting the bizarre theories that people had pieced together from cryptic tweets and red carpet photos.

You told him about the strange coincidences, the rumored secret meetings, and the internet sleuths who had dedicated countless hours to unraveling the supposed conspiracy.

Kento listened with a soft smile, occasionally humming in response or asking for clarification when you mentioned some obscure celebrity or internet figure he wasn't familiar with. You couldn't help but giggle at his confusion whenever you brought up a particularly ridiculous theory.

Halfway through your mini-ramble, your words died in your throat, replaced by a sudden shriek as Kento's hands slid up under the hem of your sweater. His fingers, ice-cold against your warm skin, brushed teasingly across your upper thighs and stomach.

You squirmed in his lap, your breath hitching as you tried to twist out of his hold. "K-Kenni!" you whined, your voice a breathless plea as you wriggled against him, only managing to press yourself closer. "Your hands are cold!"

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rumbling in his chest as he tightened his hold on you, his hands stubbornly remaining beneath your sweater.

You finally managed to twist around enough to face him, your eyes locking with his as you pouted up at him, a mix of exasperation and affection dancing in your gaze.

Up close, you could see the weariness etched across his features.

The dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced, a testament to the sleepless nights and long hours he'd been putting in at work. His usually neat blond hair was in disarray, a few strands falling messily across his forehead, giving him a boyish charm that tugged at your heart.

Kento's lips twitched into a soft smile as he looked down at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that familiar way that made your heart flutter. "Can't help it when you're so warm," he muttered, his voice low and slightly hoarse as he squeezed your waist, his thumbs brushing against your skin.

You let out another burst of giggles, your head falling back against his shoulder as you tried to squirm away from his ticklish touch. "Stop!" you protested weakly, your laughter filling the small apartment as you managed to free your hands, reaching up to cradle his face.

He immediately leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut as he hummed softly, the tension in his shoulders melting away. Your fingers traced the lines of his face gently, brushing over the small stubble on his jaw and the tired lines beneath his eyes. "You really should rest, you know," you murmured, your voice soft with concern as your thumb swept across his cheekbone.

Kento sighed, his eyes opening slowly to meet yours, the warmth in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. "I know... I've been working non-stop all day in the cold rain," he replied, his voice still tinged with exhaustion. "But coming home to you has to be my favorite part of it all..." He took your hands in his, raising them to his lips and pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're always so warm."

Heat spread across your cheeks at his words, your heart swelling with affection as you smiled up at him. "That's because I stay inside like a normal person," you teased lightly, earning a soft chuckle from him as his hands squeezed yours gently.

"Maybe I should start staying inside more often," he murmured, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips.

"Fine, I guess I'll be your personal heater then," you teased, your voice barely above a whisper as you brushed your thumb over his bottom lip, watching as his eyes darkened slightly, the warmth in his gaze making your stomach flutter.

Kento's lips curved into a small smile as he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out a soft hum of contentment. "I'd like that," he murmured, his voice low and intimate as he nuzzled his nose against your palm, his breath ghosting over your skin.

You felt your heart melt at the sight of him so relaxed, his usually stern features softened by the tender affection in his eyes. "You're too sweet, you know that?" you whispered as you cupped his face, your fingers threading through his hair.

He let out a soft laugh, his hands slipping back under your sweater to rest against your hips, his thumbs tracing gentle circles against your skin. "Only for you..." he muttered, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss that made your heart skip a beat.

You sighed softly against his mouth, your hands slipping down to his shoulders as you melted into the kiss, the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

Just as Kento's hands began to trail up your back, his touch sending sparks of warmth through your veins, a sudden blaring sound shattered the peaceful silence.

You both froze, your lips still inches apart as his phone continued to ring obnoxiously from the pocket of his discarded jacket.

Kento groaned, his head falling back against the couch with a heavy sigh. "I swear, if it's Gojo..." he muttered under his breath, his jaw clenching slightly as he reached over to grab his phone.

You bit back a smile, your fingers brushing against his as he pulled the device out of his pocket, his expression a mix of annoyance and resignation. He glanced at the screen, his eyes narrowing slightly before he answered the call with a curt, "Hello, Nanami speaking."

You barely had time to cover your mouth to stifle your laughter as a loud, exaggerated whine echoed from the other end of the line.

"Nami~ I can't believe you really stood me up to go home to your fiancée!" Gojo's voice was a dramatic drawl, and you could practically see the pout on his face through the phone. "I thought we were besties!"

Kento's brow twitched in irritation, his jaw tightening as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gojo, it's seven in the evening," he said slowly, his voice laced with barely concealed frustration. "And I just got home from a thirteen-hour shift."

"But Nami! You promised we'd get ramen together after work! You even said you'd pay!"

You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped, your eyes sparkling with amusement as Kento shot you a look, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress a smile.

"I never promised a damn thing," he replied flatly, his fingers rubbing small circles against your waist as he spoke. "And I'm not going to pay for your ridiculous eating habits."

"But Nami—"

"Goodbye, Gojo." Kento hung up mid-sentence, his thumb tapping the screen with a finality that made you burst into laughter, your head falling against his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath.

Kento sighed, his eyes closing as he leaned his head back against the couch. "I don't know how you put up with me," he muttered, his lips twitching into a small, tired smile as he looked down at you, his eyes soft with affection.

You grinned, reaching up to cup his cheek as you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. "It's not that hard when you're this cute," you teased, your voice light and playful as you nuzzled against his neck.

Kento chuckled softly, his hands slipping up to cradle your face as he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss that made your heart flutter.

"Thank you," he murmured against your lips, his voice barely a whisper as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. "For being here. For putting up with me."

Your heart swelled at his words, your fingers tracing the lines of his face as you smiled up at him, your eyes shining with love. "Always, Kento," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion as you leaned up to capture his lips in another kiss. "Always."

A/N: y'all ignore anything that doesn't make sense, tbh i'm just like kento with icy hands so it was hard asf to imagine what it feels like to be the heater 😔what started out as a small 1k fic turned to 2.5k 😩 sorry just was lost in the delusions of having a man...also, whoever sent this ask, thank you 😭 this was so theraputic/beautiful to write i just had take some time to fully write out this daydream your ask sparked. ❤️

[heirloomgem]

No one else But you {Nanami Kento x Reader September One-Shot}

Summary: You have always loved Nanami since childhood however you learned that he has someone he loves. Would you confess or not?

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except for my characters and plot.

Warning/Genre: OOC, Romance, Fluff, Angst, Comedy, Depression AU (Sorry for the miss grammar)

Sorry for the long wait! HERE IT IS! I hope you enjoyed it!

CEO Nanami Kento x Reader (slight mention of Geto x Gojo)

You have experienced unrequited crushes since you were a teenager; however, a painful unrequited love is a first for you.

Back when you were in high school, you had a crush on your senior, Gojo Satoru.

You had long forgotten what made you fall for such an idiotic man.

It might have been his charisma, his handsome face, his beautiful eyes, or his skills in being good at anything he took interest in.

However, that only lasted in your second year of high school. Satoru, on the other hand, was in his last year, preparing for graduation and entering college life.

You didn’t know how your group had formed with the famous 3rd-year trio.

But Kento and Yu have been your childhood friends since your family moved into their neighbourhood. So being admitted into the same school was no surprise.

Yet at some point in time, your group somehow merged with the 3rd year trio who were popular in their year.

One is Gojo Satoru for his loud and charismatic personality combined with his handsome face, eccentric hair and blue eyes.

Second is Geto Suguru for his mysterious and calm persona. He's also handsome with his long black hair, which seems to tantalize girls and adds to his charm.

And lastly, one of the school beauties is Ieri Shoko, a brown-haired beauty. She was one of the top students in your school, admitted to a prestigious medical university.

Of course, the two were the same, they were guaranteed a spot in the top college of their own choice.

It was quite comical really. A group of juniors being grouped together with some 3rd years.

Even up to this day, it astonished you how your group had formed, but you could still recall it. It was because of your crush on Gojo that these unlikely people had met and formed.

As the years passed, the two completely different groups of friends remained in touch and grew even closer, especially as you all entered college and made new friends. Your group seems to grow bigger.

In one of your favourite restaurant bars, some of your friends were already there and had started drinking by the time you arrived.

Gojo seems to have taken on the role of a host as Geto and some of your friends have yet to come.

The same could be said about your two childhood friends.

Yu was on his way to pick up his girlfriend from work. They would arrive together later, while Kento was still busy at work with Geto, working on a collaboration project.

Both of them had become the CEO of their own company. Each works really hard to create their own.

You couldn't be more proud of Kento for achieving his dream.

Sitting down in one of the booths, you ordered a drink. Watching as your white-haired friend drank and tried to liven up the party. At the same time, teasing and making fun of your friends and catching up.

You couldn’t help the smile on your lips.

Even though you were in a bar, it was a quiet one. One where you could have a drink and relax with soft music playing in the background.

The bar is illuminated with a cozy ambient from the lights. It was one of your favourites because of the atmosphere and the delicious cocktails and foods they make.

The bartender owner greeted you with a smile and served your drink. Taking a sip, you savour the sweet flavour and alcohol on your tongue, feeling the fatigue slowly ease from your body.

Your shoulders, tense from all the work, relaxed unknowingly.

Turning around, you started chatting with your friends, laughing and catching up, and ordering foods to fill your stomach.

As the alcohol flowed and the atmosphere warmed up, some people's tongues loosened and gossip started flowing.

Flicking the ash from her cigarette, Shoko asked, "So, how's it going with Nanami? I've noticed something more between the two of you lately."

You looked up at your friend, your eyebrow furrowing in confusion.

"What do you mean?" You asked. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Your friend rolled her eyes, her voice lazy as she teased you.

"You and Nanami. What? Don't tell me you haven't confessed even though he has already returned from abroad. You should take the chance. Don't wait for him to confess first, or you might miss your chance."

Hearing this, you panicked and tried to cover her mouth. However, it was in vain as your other friends turned their heads in your direction, curiosity in their eyes, ready to hear more about this juicy gossip.

Shoko just laughed and gave you a smirk.

"It's not like others don't know… more like they already know your painstaking love for your childhood friend for a long time"

She exhaled a puff of cigarette smoke and watched it drift lazily into the air.

"My dear, you wear your heart on your sleeve too easily. The only one who doesn't know is your beloved Nanami."

“Shoko, please! Will you be quiet!” You pleaded as you leaned over and tapped her on the arm, feeling your face flush.

Groaning, you buried your face in your hand.

"Hmm? What's this? I heard something about Y/n and Nanami. Is there something going on?" Gojo asked in a sing-along tone as he came over.

It seems the commotion between you and Shoko caught his attention and now he's ready to milk you dry for gossip, even though you have none.

“Nothing is going on,” You stated as you gave Gojo a slight glare, warning him to drop the topic. But the man seemed to not get the hint or if he did, he ignored it, feigning ignorance.

"Oh, come on now. Don't be stingy."

You groaned again as you shook your head, feeling an incoming headache already.

Taking a sip of your new cocktail, you tried to ignore the man and hoped he would drop the topic. However, Shoko and Gojo didn't seem keen on stopping as they continued to tease you.

“I was just asking about her and Nanami,” Shoko said as she gave a knowing look at Gojo.

Gojo smirked as he glanced at you, taking the hint. A mischievous glint in his eyes.

“And here I thought you were still crushing on me. How could you cheat on me, Y/n?” He pouted, his smooth lips jutting out and the corners of his eyes pointing down as he looked aggrieved at you.

“I didn’t know that you and Nanami were in that kind of relationship.”

“We’re not.” You snapped, starting to get annoyed at the man-child in front of you.

Both of your friends gave you a look, not believing you in the slightest.

"Just admit it, Y/n. We've seen how sad you were when Nanami went abroad to study. You were so wrecked that you lost so much weight and almost failed your first year of University. You were so miserable without him."

Shoko raised a brow at you as if proving a point, continuing.

"We've also known that you have always loved Nanami all this time, even though you had a little bit of 'scandal' with this idiot here."

She pointed at Gojo, who placed a hand over his heart and appeared offended.

"What scandal? Miss, for your information, I have always been a clean man." He stated, his chin pointing up, being dramatic.

You rolled your eyes at him for his exaggeration and turned your head to avoid your friends' inquisitive looks.

You admit that you had a crush on Gojo when you were in high school. You were attracted to his confident personality and handsome face, but that only lasted until graduation.

However, when Kento went abroad to further his education, that's when you realized that your feelings for him were more than just being a childhood friend.

You were in love with him.

You just never realized it. Since growing up, you have been so used to having him by your side that you have unconsciously taken his presence for granted

But when he left, you felt a massive hole open in your heart. An empty feeling inside you as if another part of you has gone missing.

Because of it, you slowly spiralled down from the sudden realization, leaving you a mess.

You have been in contact with Kento through text, but as time passed, it became harder to maintain. With the time difference between where Kento is and how busy you have been with your University life, your contacts slowly dwindled.

And now it has been almost a year before he contacted you again.

Picking up your phone without checking the caller ID, your eyes instantly reddened when you heard his voice, calm and composed as ever.

"How have you been, Y/n?"

It was Kento.

You choked back a sob as tears slowly gathered in your eyes. A deep ache echoed inside you. How much you have missed his voice.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your voice, not wanting to give anything away, as you know that even a little he would be able to pick up on it.

"I'm doing well. Just busy with school. I didn't anticipate our professor assigning such a huge project right at the start and it seems to keep piling up no matter what."

You scold yourself. Of all the things you have to say, you just have to complain to him even though he finally contacted you after such a long time.

"How have you been, Kento? I hope you're doing well. I've heard that winter there was harsher than here," You awkwardly chuckled, trying to play it off.

"It's not too bad, but I do miss the weather there." Kento's short answer tugged at your heartstrings. Slowly, a tear escaped and rolled down your cheek. You blinked hard, trying to stop the others from falling.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you before Kento spoke again.

"....I heard from Yu. It seems you haven't been doing well."

You froze.

You didn't expect Yu to tell Kento about your condition, though with the anxious looks he's been giving you lately, you guess it was a given.

Looking at yourself in the window, your reflection stared back at you. You noticed the dark, hollowed cheeks, dark circles under your eyes, and dry lips.

Your body had obviously lost so much weight that you could feel your bones protruding. Your arms and legs were nothing but nearly skin and bones. Your face is gaunt and haggard.

It appears that no matter how much you hide your circumstances from your friends, it was pointless, especially from Yu.

You realize what a mess you really were in. How much of an asshole you have been for making your friends worry to the point that they have to contact Kento about you.

You gave a strained laugh, "They're worrying too much. It's just...university has been a little tough. I'm still in my first year so it's a given-"

"Don't lie, Y/n." Kento interrupted, his stern voice making it impossible for you to utter another lie.

He's always been like this. He always knew when you were lying.

The tears you had been holding back came crashing down, and all the pent-up emotions you had been suppressing came pouring out like a tidal wave. You couldn't stop the tears from flowing, and your shoulders shook with sobs.

You pulled the phone away from your ear, trying to muffle your sobs and you couldn't help but whisper, "...I miss you so much, Kento."

And just like that, with a few words, Kento was able to break the dam in your heart.

Your cries came out softly, but you were sure Kento heard you. He didn't end the call, but stayed silent, giving you a moment to let it all out and calm down.

Even though Kento was thousands of miles away, you felt his presence beside you, listening and never leaving you. You knew that he would always be there for you, no matter what.

After a few minutes had passed, you wiped your tears and tried to compose yourself but the soft hiccups still escaped your mouth.

"Y/n" Kento whispered, his voice incredibly soft and tender, soothing your turbulent heart.

"...hmm"

"I'll come back. Wait for me, okay?"

The tears, you thought you had finally stopped from earlier, flowed down your face again.

You swear Kento has a knack for making you cry so easily lately you couldn't help but ponder just where he learned such a thing.

Sniffling, you nodded however you remembered that he couldn't see you.

"Mmm..." You gave a soft reply as you sobbed and cried again.

What he said wasn't a promise but a statement.

You know that Kento doesn't make promises because he finds them nonsense and fragile. But you also know that he is a man of his word, and when he says something, he means it.

So when he says he'll come back, you know he will.

It was one of the reasons why you have loved this man.

You made a resolve to start getting back on your feet and working towards a goal.

You were determined to face Kento when he returned with the best version of yourself. Not wanting to show such a miserable wreck that you once were.

If he ever rejects you, at least you can say that you did everything you could and gave it your best. That way, you won't have any regrets.

"Ah~ but I've heard that Nanami has someone he has been in love though."

Gojo's voice snapped you out of your reverie, and a pang of realization washed over you.

It made you remember why you had been so distant from Kento lately.

When Kento finally returned from his studies abroad, you were the first one to greet him at the airport.

You were shocked by how much he had changed. The boy you knew from years ago was now a man.

Mature and calm. Taller with broad shoulders and a lean waist, handsome with a slender brow and sharp eyes, the naivete that was once there is gone.

Instead of a high school uniform, Kento now wears a suit, and his hair is slicked back with an undercut.

No more of the side bangs that you once always played with.

He was so different yet still the same.

He still has that same stern and reserved personality but cares for those close to him, especially to you.

Once you two reunited, you were so happy. You made sure to always try to meet him despite your busy schedule, trying to make up for all those years that you were apart.

At the same time, you also wanted to show your interest but you also know to show some restraint. You didn't want to scare him.

For now, you were content that he was back.

However, one afternoon, just as you were about to meet with Kento to ask him out to dinner, you overheard a conversation between Geto and Gojo.

The conversation was about Kento, and you couldn't help but eavesdrop.

Geto and Kento had recently started a joint project for their two companies.

So it was no coincidence that you found him in Kento's company's rest areas while Gojo was one of the biggest shareholders in Geto's company. It was a given he was also a part of the project.

You took a step back so as not to be spotted and heard your white-haired friend ask if Kento had a girlfriend as one of his female coworkers seems to be interested in your childhood friend.

Hearing this you couldn't help but frown, your hand clenching and a sour feeling rose in your chest.

Geto chuckled and shook his head.

"Really?" Gojo asked in surprise.

"I thought for sure he had a girlfriend since he seems to be the type to settle down first. Or maybe even a fiance."

"No, he doesn't have one but he does have a girl he really loves," Geto said as he exhaled a puff of smoke, tapping his cigarette.

"He was planning to ask her to be his girlfriend, but something happened and it didn't work out. However, I heard from him that he's planning to ask her again."

Gojo perked up.

"Really! Who is it? Who is Nanami in love with? Do I know her?" He asked excitedly, leaning forward as curiosity got the better of him.

Geto only chuckled at the man's antics before patting him on the head, telling him it wasn't appropriate to tell too much as it was not his place to share such a secret.

Gojo could only whine at his friend and dropped the subject, understanding that no matter how much he pestered Geto, his friend would not budge and reveal the identity of the woman Nanami was in love with.

He instead brought up a new topic to discuss, leaving you wondering who was the girl Kento was in love with.

You were stunned. A myriad of emotions surged through your mind in an instant but eventually, they all melted into a strong feeling of bitterness.

No wonder Kento never had a girlfriend for so many years. It turned out he had someone in his heart all along and now he seems intent on getting back with that girl.

You couldn't help but wonder.

What kind of girl does he like? What does the girl Kento love, look like? If that girl came back to him, would he surrender immediately and reconcile with her?

You even absurdly imagine them together.

Feeling a sob escape your mouth, you hurriedly went home that day, cancelling on Kento through a short message. You didn't call him as you didn't trust your voice not to tremble once you heard his voice.

That day, you drank until you couldn't stand.

You were glad you were home and never went out, otherwise you would have called Kento and made a mess of things, which you would have regretted later.

However, ever since then, you have distanced yourself from him.

Avoiding every gathering with your friends to try to minimize the chances of running into him.

You respect Kento too much to burden him with your feelings and ruin everything. You might resent the fact that the girl he loves might not be you but you still wanted to be friends with him no matter what.

Besides, you also have your own principles that you abide by, not wanting to put yourself in a complicated situation if the girl returns.

But by avoiding him so suddenly, he quickly noticed.

He tried to call you, wanting to confront you about such a sudden change.

You could only make an excuse that you were busy with work, but he knew that wasn't the whole truth.

And since knowing Kento for so long, you already know he wasn't the type to let this matter pester for so long and would eventually resort to seeing you in person.

However, you didn't want to see him, not until you could sort out your feelings for him or else you risk breaking down in front of him.

Without any other choice, you quickly set up to go on a business trip.

Successfully stopping him from seeing you as he wouldn't be able to chase after you because his company was in a crucial situation with the current project he was working on.

Thanks to it, you have been able to avoid him completely however, this time you couldn't turn down the invitation as one of your friends is getting engaged.

You knew you couldn't hide forever, and you didn't want to miss your friend's special day so, in the end, you concede.

Meeting him became inevitable.

Anxious and nervous, you have been drinking a lot since the moment you sat down, trying to calm your nerves and distract yourself.

But once they started talking about Kento and you, the bitter feelings you had been able to push back slowly rose in your chest and your mood turned sour.

You unconsciously started drinking heavily and because of it, your temper became fickle.

Eyeing the man in front of you, childishly making fun of your previous crush on him and on Kento, you couldn't help but realize that the man-child in front of you was the reason why this all started.

Suddenly, the urge to wipe that grin off his face with a slap was so dangerously tempting that your hand twitched.

However, you have been a person to never resort to such action and unnecessary violence. So you tried to think of something, attempting to divert your attention or else you might just do it.

You sigh to calm down but a dark expression still shows on your face.

Seeing this, Gojo eye's gleam with mischievous, unaware that he had stepped a foot on his grave, pushing you over the edge.

"What? Someone's jealous? Maybe I should try being your cupid and set you up with Nanami? Hmm? Maybe by then, I could give your pretty little ass a boost and not be a coward anymore."

Your lip twitched.

Maybe wiping that smug look on his face isn't so bad after all, you thought.

Lifting a hand and caressing his cheeks, you caught him off guard.

You gave a dark smile and a shiver involuntary went down his spine, his back sweating bullets.

SMACK!

Walking out of their own car and heading to the restaurant bar, Nanami and Geto let out a sigh of relief, taking off their jacket and loosened their tie.

They have just finished a meeting that has gone on for hours than necessary.

And now having finally finished, all they wanted was to drink, eat and relax throughout the night before being plunged to work the next day.

However, when they entered the bar, what awaited them was not what they had expected as they witnessed you and Gojo in the middle of the bar, engaged in a brawl.

Clearly, both of you were drunk as your faces were red not only from anger but from the alcohol as well. Your words slurring as the two of you yelled at each other.

What started as a harmless teasing quickly escalated into a messy, comedic fight for your friends to witness.

Holding onto Gojo's shirt and the other on his hair, the tall man has no other choice but to bend down as he did the same to you.

Some scratches and light bruises scattered throughout your body and face. Your clothes and hair a mess.

Gojo shouted, "I'm a liar?! What I said is the truth! You're a goddamn coward!"

"You say I'm a coward, what makes you then?!" You shouted as well, breathing heavily and glared at him.

You tug at his hair earning a yelp.

"Don't think I'm clueless you goddamn man-child. I saw it when you two graduated and Geto-senpai confessed! All these years and your relationship hasn't progressed at all! You two have been together and never left each other side and yet you haven't admitted that you love him. You've done nothing but play him all along."

A vein bulged at his forehead, irritated, Gojo pulled at your hair making you groan.

"Shut up you goddamn woman!"

"Fuck you! You white hair old bastard! Just fucking go and splayed your goddamn legs in front of Geto-senpai and finally get laid! You horny bastard!"

You yelled while your friends who have been calmly watching the whole time, even the owner, laughed at your nonsense screaming match.

That right.

When you secretly witness Geto's confession to Gojo on their graduation day that's when you realize.

Your crush for Gojo was nothing more than an admiration because of his confidence. Confidence in being himself while he unknowingly becomes a love-struck fool for Geto.

You envy and wanted that.

You wanted to be a love-struck fool for Kento but your insecurity and low self-esteem prevented you from confessing your love for the handsome man.

However, seeing that this goddamn idiot had done nothing when he had all the chance in the world while you, on the other hand, were a mess, missing Kento, who was abroad and had no face to confess since the memories of you crushing on such an idiotic guy were still fresh in everyone's mind, made you angry to no end.

You slump as your knees got weak not just from the alcohol but from all the feelings you have been holding back, your previous energy leaving you as the bitter feelings spread inside you.

Tears started flowing and falling on your cheeks without your permission. Seeing this Gojo froze, his grip loosening and the once lively bar slowly quieted as you softly cried.

"No...I'm the goddamn idiot here... I've also had the chance... the chance to confess and love Kento but because I'm a coward I didn't take it..."

You admitted.

That's right. You were angry not only because of this bastard but mostly at yourself for being the biggest idiot ever.

And now, learning that Kento has someone he loves and is thinking of being engaged with her.

Regret filled you to the point of suffocation.

"I only had myself to blame..."

You whimper, now completely drunk as you lose coherence and kneel on the floor.

You felt as though everything was crumbling. Slowly losing your mind as you sink further in your sorrow.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed your waist, lifting you from the floor and pulling you away from Gojo's grasp.

You were brought into a warm embrace, your head resting on a broad chest.

It was then that you heard Kento's voice.

Deep, calm and mature, a voice that always makes your heart flutter and the voice that you have come to love.

"I'll be taking her home as she's too drunk," Kento said, carrying you in his arms as he talked to your friends while Geto dealt with Gojo.

You couldn't help but nuzzle further in his arms, burying your head in his neck and hugging him tightly. Unknowingly, Kento's breath hitched and his heart quivered from your actions.

Geto nodded, saying he'd be taking Gojo as well who was completely drunk, his head was swaying from all directions. His legs no longer had any strength to hold him, already unconscious.

Adjusting you in his arms, Nanami looked at you and found that you were completely unconscious.

He sighs but an undeniable faint blush on the corner of his cheeks and ears can be seen if you look closely.

Ieri who had been enjoying the show and her drinks, saw it and she smiled knowingly as she watched Nanami take your things.

"Nanami" Ierie called and Nanami looked at her.

"Be nice to her, okay?"

Nanami's expression didn't change, but he replied softly, "I will."

Nodding at your friends and the bar owner, Nanami carried you out and into his car that was parked outside.

He opened the car door and put you down, taking a moment to look at you and saw your tear-streaked face.

When he reached out to wipe away your tears, your lashes brushed against his fingers. He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm down then got into the driver's seat, intent to take you home.

This time, he was determined to talk to you, even if you didn't want to. He wasn't going to let you go anytime soon.

Waking up, you groggily sat up as you looked around.

Clearly, it wasn't your room as the bedsheets were different. They were grey coloured and quite soft made of a different material from the ones you use.

The pieces of furniture were simple but obviously high-end and looked strangely familiar.

You didn't know how you got here nor did you remember what happened after you slapped Gojo but the feeling of being carried lingered in the back of your mind.

"Your awake." A deep husky voice said as the door opened.

It was Kento, holding a glass of water.

It finally dawned on you that you were in his place. You have been into his apartment a few times in the past however this was your first time staying over.

A nervous feeling settled in your stomach and felt your cheeks flushing. Whether from the lingering alcohol on your body or because of your feelings and the situation you are in, you don't know.

Still drunk and dazed, you obediently accepted the glass of water and took a few sips before setting it down on the nightstand.

An awkward silence envelops the two of you as Kento sat at the edge of the bed. His arms rested on his thigh and looking at you from the corner of his eyes, deep in thought.

You fidgeted. Your head lowered as you played with the bedsheet in your hand, feeling the soft fabric. You didn't know whether you should talk or not.

From the corner of your eyes, you stare at the man that you have been avoiding these past couple of weeks.

Two of his dress shirt buttons were undone, revealing his slender neck and chest, showing a hint of his muscular physique.

His sleeves were rolled up and you couldn't help but gaze at his forearms. The veins stood out along his arms, and his hands were large with defined knuckles and slender fingers.

His hair was slick back however few strands were sticking out, clearly messed up after a long day.

You might have been drunk nevertheless you still remember bit and pieces how he has carefully brought you from his car to his room.

Gently carrying you, laying you down and assisting you change from your work clothes to one of his.

Helplessly you thought, how could a man be so handsome and so caring at the same time.

Your eyes reddened.

The sour feeling from before sprang up again and tears gathered in your eyes.

Lifting a trembling hand, you covered your mouth as a sob escaped, trying to hide it, not wanting to make the situation worse.

You felt the bed shift then two rough and large hands cup your cheeks, raising your face.

Completely opposite from his usual reserve and stern expression, Kento looks at you with concern in his eyes.

"What's wrong, Y/n?" He asked, voice gentle and soft trying to calm you however hearing such tenderness, your cries seemed to grow even louder.

You stayed quiet. Pondering whether to confess everything or not, however, your heart got the best of you and you blurted.

"I love you. I love you, Kento. I have been ever since. I have always loved you... Please don't leave me." You cried as you confessed, your words became disjointed and frantic as you went on.

You didn't know what was Kento's reaction as large tears rolled down from your eyes, obscuring your vision.

You were sure you looked pathetic at that moment as you cried but that didn't matter anymore as you let it all out.

Long years of repressed emotions have completely overwhelmed you.

Your regret when Kento left, your joy when the two of you reunited. The searing pain of learning the truth that Kento has someone in his heart.

The jealousy and sorrow you drowned in as you distance yourself and finally the overwhelming love you hold for the man in front of you.

As you continued crying and repeating your confession like a broken record, warm lips suddenly sealed your lips, stopping your words.

Kento kissed you.

A strong, fierce and almost devouring one with a mix of revenge, and seeking reparation.

It only seemed to deepen as you felt his hand grab the back of your neck while the other drew you closer and tightened his embrace, as if afraid you would disappear.

You couldn't resist and kiss him back with just as much passion as you could.

Lifting your arms, you hugged his neck and pulled him closer while Kento lifted you in his lap, straddling him.

You kissed as if the both of you couldn't bear to separate. Your tongues danced and lips melted with each other.

You couldn't help but let out a moan, calling his name in desperation. A sweet tingling sensation runs through your body, making your toes curl.

It wasn't until the need to breathe that you pulled back.

Resting your forehead against his, you closed your eyes and felt your breaths intertwining.

Kento cups your face, caressing it and look into your eyes as you open them.

Longing, tenderness and adoration.

Emotions you never saw before now lingered in his eyes

"I love you too, Y/n." He said, his voice so tender and full of affection, it left you breathless.

"But what about the girl you like?"

Kento frowns, confusion in his eyes.

"I heard from Geto that you have someone you have loved for a long time." You quietly said.

Your voice trembling, just asking that question tormented you like no other but you had to.

You have to know who it is even if you are afraid of what Kento's answer might be.

Thinking this, your tears seemed like they would never dry as droplets fell on your cheeks.

Finally understanding what you mean and where you're coming from, Kento chuckled, wiping your cheeks and kissing you on the lips again before moving on to your neck where he felt your pulse.

"The person I love is you. I have loved you ever since and have always been. No one else but you."

You sat stunned for a moment as his confession slowly sank.

You sniffled and a fresh wave of tears fell however compared from before it was out of happiness.

Pulling Kento, you hugged him and fell onto the bed and this time, without reserve, you kissed him first.

Extra:

As morning came and illuminated the room in a soft light, Geto was just finishing his talk with Nanami on the phone when he heard the white-haired man in his bed groan in pain, holding his head.

Putting his phone away, Geto went to the kitchen to boil some water.

A few minutes later, he came back with a cup of honey lemon tea, handing it to Gojo.

Gojo who was in pain from a massive hang-over, didn't notice his friend staring at him in silence and quietly sip the hot tea.

"...So, is it true that you love me too?"

"PSHHH!"

Gojo spat out the tea, blushing, "..."

Let's just say another engagement party was arranged later on.

A/n: I had a hard time finishing writing this one shot.

It became longer and longer as I wrote when I was only planning to make a shorter one but then the plot just kept coming up and didn't know how to finish it. In the end, I had to torture myself to stick with it and finish it after more than 3 weeks of non-stop writing.

God, I'm such a masochist.😭

However, as I was writing the confession part, I couldn't help but start crying and I had to stop midway laughing at myself like a maniac. Oh my god.😭

I swear I won't be doing another long one-shot anytime soon. My brain was mush after this.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this fic! Please leave a comment on what you think!🥹

{All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author}

Credit: To the artist for the divider(though I don't know who, I couldn't find them) and pictures

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

--

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach. 

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her. 

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?” 

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.” 

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long. 

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore. 

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you. 

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights. 

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.” 

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you. 

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give. 

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes. 

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong. 

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.” 

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth. 

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck. 

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field. 

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed. 

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead. 

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too. 

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!” 

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before. 

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck. 

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.” 

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.” 

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?” 

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess. 

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that. 

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair. 

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.” 

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.” 

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.” 

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand.  “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry. 

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—” 

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does. 

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.” 

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done. 

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you. 

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look. 

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing. 

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness. 

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing. 

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused. 

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging. 

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist. 

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.  

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along. 

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

--

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ take me to chapter ten!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

--

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

[rahuratna]

Nanami Kento: Relationship Headcanons (now a fic), Part 10

Warning: MDNI!! Explicit sexual content in this and following chapter. Details below cut.

Contents: smut, fingering, mild breast play, oral sex (male receiving), mild testicle play.

Somewhere, between the bedroom door and the bed, Kento seems to come to a realization. You feel it in the way his almost desperate touches slow in pace, transforming to burning trails traced with agonizing slowness over the curves of your body.

His message is unspoken, and very clear. He wants this to be perfect. He wants to take his time with you.

You are more than happy to comply.

Your lips part from his with a soft, wet sound in the charged silence of the room. Something about this man, the way he looks at you, touches you, welcomes you wholeheartedly into his life, gives you a confidence you've never felt with any other lover. It leaves you feeling powerful.

He watches in almost pained concentration as you step away from him, eyes never leaving his. You're now wearing just your underwear and you wonder if the light catches your skin as tantalizingly as it does his. You reach behind you to unhook the clasps of your bra, but he stops you, grasping your wrist gently.

"Let me."

The soft desire in his voice flickers over you like a flame. You allow him to turn you, facing the bed, your hair draped forward over one shoulder. His fingertips scrape slightly against your skin as he works the hook, tracing down your sides as the straps slip off your shoulders and fall away.

He steps forward, pressing his body into your back, and you almost tip forward onto the bed from how overwhelming his bare skin feels against yours. He moulds to fit the shape of you, and you make out the shift of his pectorals as he brings his arms around, the subtle scrape of the coarse hairs on his chest against your shoulder blades. His breath is like a furnace against the nape of your neck, and you tilt your head, a soft noise leaving you involuntarily as his mouth descends, opening against the sensitive skin; a promise.

His hands are on the dip of your waist, large palms spanning you, rising, rising. They trace the outline of your breasts, and you rise on tiptoes, head falling back against him with a gasp as he cups them. His grip is firm, caressing, the roughened skin of his palms catching on your over-sensitive nipples as he draws broken little sighs from between your lips.

His breathing is accelerating as he feels you, supple under his touch, feeding on the noises you're making for him. His fingers leave their almost obsessive squeeze and stroke of your flesh and slide lower, under the lace hem of your panties. He pauses as if asking permission, even now, and you place your hands over his, pushing down impatiently.

He huffs a small laugh against your hair and then your panties are gone, slipping down to rest softly at your ankles. You feel completely exposed, and somehow, it arouses you beyond measure, knowing he will be the one looking, tasting, tou -

The breath temporarily leaves your lungs as he lifts you and tosses you gently down on the eiderdown, the small display of strength creating a pleasant throb between your legs. You turn over, taking him in fully as he gets on his knees and crawls across the bed towards you.

The lamplight gleams on his golden hair, mussed and uncharacteristically dishevelled by your touch. The sharp, lined corners of his eyes are softer, the scorching, languid glance drinking you in, but still so earnest, so endearing. He is utterly beautiful, from the powerful shoulders, lean waist, the small hairs that speckle the significant expanse of his chest and trail down, deliciously to the small, sandy tuft above the line of his underwear, to the arms and thighs that ripple with corded sinew, shadows chasing over every defined line visible in the dim intimacy of the bedroom.

You take a small, reverent breath and lie back, surrendering yourself completely as he reaches you, lying on his side against your supine form. He is so warm, so intoxicatingly close, breath fanning out against your collarbone as he takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, splayed out for him.

He cups your chest again, then grips the flesh firmly, his mouth coming down without warning around your nipple. The cry that leaves your lips spurs him on. Kento never does anything by halves. He gives your breasts his full attention, tongue tracing the rounded contours before descending on your stiffened peaks, mouth engulfing as much as he can take. His teeth grazing against you as he lifts his head each time, making you arch off the bed. He alternates between the left and right, laving them with soft licks and bites, and just when you've gained some semblance of control again, you feel his broad palm slide down your stomach.

"K - Kento - "

"Look. Look at yourself. Please. "

You obey him, raising yourself slightly on your elbows, hair pooling on the mattress behind you. Your thighs part at his approach, as if obeying some primal instinct. You already know how wet he's made you, and he grunts loudly when his hand finds your slick folds, watching you jerk, your mouth opening in a soundless cry. You don't take your eyes off where his fingers are, and your compliance makes his breath come quicker, the stuttering words that leave his lips spiralling up to the ceiling like smoke.

"You're ... darling, so wet - I - please. I want to - "

He is not accustomed to this, to expressing his desire verbally. You can tell. You decide to help him along, as much as you haven't experimented much with this before yourself. You are no virgin, but there are still many things you want to experience with Kento for the first time. Bringing your mouth to his ear, you feel him still slightly as you whisper to him.

"Kento."

"My love?"

"Do you like how I feel?"

"I - of course I - "

Your head drops back on the bed, a soft, alluring smile forming on your lips. His eyes are now trained on you, asking a question. You have his complete attention. Good.

"Can you feel how wet I am?"

He exhales sharply.

"Yes."

His fingers are slowly going to work again, rubbing against your sensitive skin, slipping down, making you gasp as he smears wetness over your already soaking labia.

"K - Kento. So good. Making me feel so ... so good."

"I am?"

"Yes. Want you ... hah ... right there, right there - "

"Here?"

"Yes, God, yes."

Your voice is rising, almost uncontrollably, as those large, strong fingers slide against you with greater firmness, circling your clit, pressing down, spreading you, testing the soft give of your entrance.

"Want to feel you, Kento, please."

"Like this?"

Your petals unfold under his touch, one finger breaching into the heated clasp of your walls.

"Just like that, like that - "

"Come here."

His voice is suddenly rough with want, and he tugs you closer, his mouth coming down on your chest again. You clutch at his shoulders as he adds a second finger, working relentlessly, picking up pace inside the wet heat of you. You are now barely aware of the words that leave your mouth, the soft cries, the wanton encouragement.

"Yes, yes, there. Kento, please ... I - making me feel so - "

He releases your nipple with the soft, wet 'pop' of heavy suction, and now his breath is ghosting over your ear.

"Making your pussy feel good, darling?"

Oh. Oh.

Always such a quick student, this wonderful, wonderful man.

"Yes, so good, so good, I - "

You cut off with a small scream as he curls his fingers inside and you stretch wider against the intruding digits. Where the fuck did he learn -

"My love, your pussy's so tight, so sweet - "

"Oh God, yes - "

"Tight, wet little -"

"Ken - Kento - I'm - "

"Squeezing me so much - "

He is panting as hard as you are now, head dipping down between the litany of his praises to take your nipples roughly into his burning mouth, watching them glisten with his saliva as your back arches high off the bed, your trembling thighs spreading wider apart.

Something white hot is building in your abdomen, between the rhythmic press of his fingers and the added stimulation of his lips. Your clit feels raw, each brush electric, a steady, throbbing pulse that is dragging all of your awareness down, down, to the blossoming between your legs that is now completely under his control.

"I - Kentooo - I'm - "

"That's it. Oh darling, so - you're getting so much ... tighter, I can feel - God, come for me, angel. Come for me. Come with this beautiful pussy, I - want - "

His own words are slightly slurred now, but you can no longer keep your eyes open, no matter how badly you want to see him right then. The peak he is building you to is frightening, a complete loss of control, your hands slipping on a steering wheel, careening of a cliff, that sudden weightless drop you feel when you're asleep, your body taut and shuddering, and -

Your orgasm punches the air out of your chest, diaphragm struggling to keep up with the demand of your lungs. The room around you, the bed beneath you, ceases to exist for a minute, the intensity of the pleasure reverberating all the way to the curl of your toes against the mattress. Your neck feels damp with perspiration, your fingers digging into the mattress above your head, clawed and desperate.

After a minute, you begin to regain your senses, one by one, sound and touch returning before your eyes blearily open to take in the man who's gently bringing you down from those dizzying heights. His hands are now gliding over you, grounding you as he soothingly brushes over your sides, hips, thighs.

You are aware that your throat feels scratchy, your fingers stiff from where they have been clutching the eiderdown. Your breathing is ragged, and sweat is cooling in the valley between your breasts, along with the remnants of his saliva. You realise, with horrifying immediacy, that there is dampness, not just at the corners of your eyes, but collecting at the side of your mouth. As much as you started off feeling confident, you hadn't expected him to reduce you to an embarrassing, drooling, babbling mess with just his fingers.

Your shame is quickly forgotten, though, when you see the tenderness with which he looks at you. Those same fingers that were mercilessly grinding inside you a few minutes ago come up, toward his lips, and no, was he -

Oh, those eyes of his, honey-brown in this light, more alive and softer than you'd ever seen them. His gaze never leaves your face as he takes those digits into his mouth, tasting you, then slowly reaches across and traces your lips. He is still watching as your mouth opens obediently and you graze your teeth languidly over him, tongue swirling around his knuckles.

"Good girl. So beautiful when you come."

You almost lose your hold over reality a second time when he leans forward and laps up the excess moisture that has slipped from the corner of your mouth, a groan rumbling through his chest.

Throughout it all, he had been so focused on giving you pleasure, he had drawn your attention completely away from his own needs. You chide yourself for being so selfish as you glance down, between your bodies and note that he still has his underwear on.

Making a small noise of protest, you lift yourself, having recovered enough to move.

Hands still trembling slightly, you place your palms against his chest, pushing him down on his back. He is clearly pent up, his erection tenting hard against the tight fabric. In spite of the fact that you've just orgasmed, you feel a surprising pulse of arousal at the sight of him.

"Kento ... here, let me."

Biting your lip, you glance at him from under your lashes, spying the infinite hunger with which he watches you. Taking that as permission, you hook your fingers into the waistband of the briefs and pull them away from his body, then down, careful not to jostle his erection. The privilege of stimulus is solely for you; you want him just as delirious with pleasure as you have been.

He catches his breath lightly as the air hits his exposed flesh, and you sit back on your heels momentarily, to take in the image of him. The ridged planes of his abdomen form a wide, clear cut 'V', the darker blonde hair trailing down to the trimmed tuft around the base of his cock. He is curved, thick, a slight turn to the right at the tip, the smooth flesh red and painfully engorged, veins standing out along the length.

You have never seen anything more delicious.

Previous experiences have left you feeling lukewarm about giving pleasure orally, but you want to taste Kento so badly you have to squeeze your knees slightly together. The way you're looking at him is obviously having the desired effect because the swollen head is now touching his belly and he lets out a sharp grunt as you lean forward, his cock twitching slightly as you trail your hands up his thighs. The short, coarse blonde hairs catch between your fingers, the planes of muscle hard and tense.

You lower your head and press kisses softly where your hands pass, the trembling in your own legs a reminder of the pleasure you want to give him. Kento's eyes glaze over slightly, and you've never seen him quite like this before, spread out before you like the choicest buffet, the powerful body that was always so tightly controlled under that suit coming undone beneath you. He is breathing heavily, the skin of his face flushed, trying desperately to keep his gaze fixed on you and what you are doing to him.

You touch him, fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft, squeezing, testing, and a groan tears from the back of his throat, the longing in that single sound an indication of just how much he's holding back. Always in control, even to the point of submitting to your own desires.

You have patience. You can wait until that changes.

Pearly fluid glistens at his tip, squeezing out further under the soft ministrations of your hand. You taste him; he is slightly salty, musky. The scent pulls a hazy veil down over your mind, and now you are operating on pure instinct. Taking him into your mouth, you press him into the inside of one cheek, watching his head flop back on the mattress, his hand sliding down to the back of your neck. Eyes closed, Adam's apple bobbing with each breathy attempt to regain control, he is the most magnificent feast you have ever had the fortune to behold.

You slide him out, until just the tip remains between your lips, then press him back in. Your pace is slow, allowing him to adjust to the heat of your mouth. The muscles of Kento's thighs clench every time you bob forward. You pause in between to lick him gently from base to tip. The flush has now spread to his chest, sweat glistening on his forehead and the swell and dip on either side of his peaked brown nipples. His deep groans have turned into a soft chant of your praises, spurring you on even more.

"Oh God, please, darling ... just - ah - just, there. Yes. Yes. Your mouth ... ngh ... so sweet. Fucking heavenly. Fuck, I'm - please. Don't stop. Don't. Yes."

Hearing him curse like this for the first time sends a bolt of electricity straight down the front of your body, and you moan around his cock, the vibrations causing him to jerk spasmodically under you. The sweet, filthy encouragement, the hardening grip of his hand on the base of your neck, just below the hairline, is filling you with a sense of elation.

You are doing this to him.

You slip him out of your mouth, rubbing the silky, glistening shaft, then place one hand on his inner thigh, pushing. He glances down, spreading his legs further apart, but slowly, as if not sure why you're requesting it. You run your hand down, to the base, but don't stop there, gently cupping the soft flesh of his sac. He hisses and raises his head, meeting the question in your gaze.

"I - sweetheart, I'll - "

"I know."

"I know, Kento. But I want it. Want you to come in my mouth."

Your keep your voice low, sultry, your fingers stroking him with slow, steady firmness.

The words ignite some kind of inferno behind his eyes, and he props himself on his elbows, gulping before giving you a small nod. You smile and dip your head once more, circling with your tongue, feeling the roll of his testicles within the loose outer skin. You take one into your mouth, suckling with care, and the sound he makes, somewhere between growl and a yelp makes you want to build a little pillow fortress and live between his legs forever.

You alternate between sucking his tip and gently teasing his sac, stroking his length firmly all the while. He is growing hotter, harder inside your fist, twitching now and then, the opaque essence leaking out into your hand. The slick, wet sound of your stroking is building another fire between your own legs, one you'll neglect for now in favour of giving him your full focus.

And God, you never want to look away.

He has now fallen back, unable to support himself on his elbows any longer. One arm extends outwards, fingers grasping the edge of the bed as if his life depends on it. His expression is almost the same as when you kissed for the first time, slightly pained, ecstatic, head pushing back into the mattress. He is much louder now, the sounds he makes gruff and almost animalistic. It turns you on no end to know that Kento, your Kento, the man who lives by professionalism and propriety, is here, with his cock in your mouth, bucking his hips into your face like he can never get enough.

You speed up your strokes, careful to grip him tightly enough such that he doesn't slip out of your palm. You slide a hand under him, marvelling at the sheer muscle that forms his perfect buttocks, and he cries out, hips lifting right off the bed as he twitches, harder than ever, within your grasp. A flood of earthy warmth is suddenly on your tongue and Kento's entire body spasms, muscles tauter than piano wire under your hands. His mouth is wide open, nothing but throaty, half-formed groans emerging. You keep still, allowing him to spend himself, before tilting back your head and swallowing his viscosity, wiping off the underside of your lip.

He slumps heavily back on the bed, and you sit up slowly, watching as a few translucent strands of semen droop from the head of his cock, settling on his stomach. You lean forward and clean him, his warm abdomen clenching under your tongue. He strokes your hair, drawing your head away and you crawl up the bed, making your way to his side.

Kento is looking at you as if you are the last earthly delight he will experience in his lifetime, his cheeks ruddy, strands of gold darkened by sweat sticking to his forehead. He reaches for you with slightly shaky arms, and you curl up into his side, head tucked between his armpit and chest. He is too spent to do much, besides wrap and arm securely around you, his breathing gradually slowing to a more even pace.

His embrace, the heat of his body beside you, the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your hand is so comforting that you must have fallen into a light doze, because a short while later he is tracing shapes on your back gently, whispering to you to wake up.

"Love. Don't you want to get cleaned up?"

You nod, stretching luxuriously, and he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses there, and then on your temple. You sit up and he is watching you closely, a slight uncertainty in his posture that makes you take pause. You cup his face between your palms.

"Kento? Everything all right?"

He shifts slightly before clearing his throat.

"I ... well. I haven't had much in the way of ... I mean to say ... was it ... "

Dear God.

"Kento. It was not too much. It was perfect."

He pauses, the muscles of his shoulders losing some of their tension, and a small smile creeps across his face, devastatingly sweet and shy. He slowly eases you to the edge of the bed.

"I see."

"Are you really the same man who asked me if my pussy felt good?"

Kento's head whips around so fast you thought he'd damage a tendon. His expression makes something vast and tender well up in your chest, bursting from your lips in a violent sputter of laughter. He grabs you by the hips, not too tenderly this time, nipping slightly at your ear in reprimand.

"You are a cruel, cruel woman."

"Am I going to be punished, do you think?"

"Very harshly."

His grasp on you is rapidly stirring something else between your bodies, something you had no idea you would be capable of feeling, considering the earth-shattering orgasm he'd given you a short while before.

You stand, and his eyes travel the length of your body, lingering on the curved length of your spine and lower, taking you in with the kind of regard that was far from the gentlemanly nature of his everyday self.

"Are you coming, Kento?"

"I most certainly am."

Your laugh becomes breathy as he rises and wraps his arms around you from behind, a more intimate echo of the way he'd taken you to bed earlier. You speak into the charged silence.

"I thought you were concerned about me going to work tomorrow?"

"I was."

"And now?"

"You said you were going to take it easy at work."

"And that means ... "

His lips are now planting themselves along your shoulder, and he pauses between kisses to whisper to you, voice husky and alight with desire.

"That means you're going to accommodate me, my darling."

"Accommodate you where, Kento?"

"You know where."

"My kitchen, perhaps?"

His soft chuckle stirs the hairs at the base of your neck. His kisses turn to soft bites that make you gasp.

"We needed to get cleaned up," you reprimand him.

Your heart really isn't in it, though. Not when his hands are sliding down your thighs.

"We will."

"You're not helping. Kitchens are delicate areas, you know."

"You're right, love. After all, I've only set foot in yours. And I intend to use every part of your kitchen. Very, very thoroughly."

@tsukimefuku @g-kleran @kentocalls @actuallysaiyan

[thewriterg]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲

pairing(s); ino takuma x fem!sorcerer reader, (mention of ino takuma x fem!reader x kento nanami)

summary; You’ve taught him all you could, now it was time for him to try his own hand. Ino wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

word count; 1.5k

warning(s); SMUT : >, ino gives you head, degrading, praise, sub!ino, small age gap ino is 23 r is 27, mention of threesome (heeheheheh), idk bud is just pathetic

A/n: GIFs; —@galarrapidash & @jesuistrestriste— THANK YOU GUYS FOR 2k!

“Tell me it doesn’t matter.” Ino watches leaned against the doorframe of your shared as you simply look over your shoulder rubbing a body butter up your legs, the legs that he worships. Your eyebrows furrow the extra skin gathering between your forehead while you maintain eye contact.

“Tell me it doesn’t matter if we don’t win in Shibuya tomorrow… if I don’t gain Nanami’s watch” The brunette’s voice dies out and your lips purse. Shaking your head the delicate strands moving along in sync with the movement; you turn your attention back to moisturizing your skin.

“No. You tell me if it matters you’re the professional jujitsu sorcerer, Takuma.” Rising to your feet the navy blue slip dress that he bought for you sits loose against your skin. He identifies it easily, he’d bought it for you after he earned his first check from sorcery. Sitting the tub of body care on the charcoal grey nightstand in the overly priced hotel you finally turn to look at him. The sound of his last name on your lips sending shivers up his spine reminding him of when you refused to address him casually.

“I’m not a nun. I’m not your mommy.”

“I’m just asking you’ll love me no matter what.” Ino called back, fiddling with the ring around his middle finger.

“What am I? Your God?” You huff a small chuckle, taking a seat to position yourself on the fluffy white duvet that always seemed to be the same.

“Yeah.” The tanned skin boy huffed back and you close your mouth shut. A moment passes,

Then two.

“You can beat him.” You were a mystery to Ino even after all this time however, you had yet to lie to him.

“What if I don’t? How are you going to look at me if I can’t beat Mahito?” The brunette’s gaze finally lifts from his scarred hands, big brown eyes falling over the outline of your body. Your eyes find his or his finds you, he can’t quite tell. They’re low, sultry, and bring him against his will —as if he’d back out anyway—.

“Just like this.” Another moment.

Another two.

“I’m going to say something. It’s probably gonna make you angry. I need you to hear me out, okay? I don’t wanna get Nanami’s watch rather we win at Shibuya or not.” Takuma’s arms fall to his sides as he fiddles with his fingers. You sigh, closing your eyes for a quick moment while nodding your head. He waits for them to open before he continues on.

“I’m still gonna go for it. I’m still gonna try but… I don’t need Nanami’s approval. I need yours. I don’t wanna be one of those guys who doesn’t know when to walk away, okay? Who- who, doesn’t choose his partners approval over their hero’s advice. It’s embarrassing to still be doing this shit when you’re a grown ass man.” Your head swivels before you shrug

“Okay.”

“Okay?” The masked sorcerer turns his attention away from the opposite side of the door frame that he had his back pressed upon.

“If you wanna quit being a jujitsu sorcer, you can quit being a jujitsu sorcerer let alone gain someone’s approval. You don’t need my permission.” You wouldn’t admit that your heart skips a beat when the brunette turns his back towards you, not taking more than three steps he spins back of his heel. He watches you watch him, gently dive his top half on the mattress legs still standing on the ground. The position forces him to look up to you.

“We’ve been doing this together. We’ve always been doing this together” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“I’m your Sensai. Okay, I work for you.”

“Teach me then.”

“I am teaching you.” Your voice gets a bit sharper, a little more firm.

“I’m fighting for both of us, Y/n. I know that.” You take a breath and your shoulders rise and fall with it. With your bottom lip between your teeth you stare down at Takuma with tired eyes.

“If you don’t win tomorrow, I’ll leave you.” You shake your head as the second grade plants his face in the sheets with a deep, shaky, sigh. The back of his head stared back at you, his rich brunette hair that adorned his shoulders falling to the sides of his face. You run your fingers through it, from his hairline to his nape.

“I’m serious. Does that help you?” Your voice is nothing above a whisper now. Your hands continue to keep themselves busy as your nails repeatedly soothe themselves through his scalp. Sniffing flowing through the air before the boy finally brings his head up to sit in your hand. Your thumb softly swipes across his cheek like windshield wipers blades, you glance down on the features of his face —a pout occupying his lips—. Takuma places a plethora of kisses to the inside of your wrist before continuing up your forearm and quickly to your shoulder. You allow him to settle his whole body on the bed before you take his lips against you, hands settled on the side of his neck. He hikes himself higher for a second to rest his velvet like lips on your forehead for a beat before coming back down your shoulder. The brunette leaves kisses in his wake sniffles not yet dying down but almost amplifying. Resting his head in your lap as he presses a kiss to your knee, the knee. You both sit in silence for the amount of time, you cannot count.

The peck against the surface of your panties almost makes you flinch, almost. Your gaze falls down to Takuma whose face isn’t visible to you; head in between your thighs laying gentle touches in between them with his lips.

“Ino.” You warn

“Please… just please let me do this.” There’s a slight whine to his voice as he licks a stripe up the thin cloth of the black cotton. You can feel his warm tongue through the material. With hesitation you temporarily raise your hips from the mattress while he’s quick to pull your undergarment down before he’s plunging nose deep in between your slicking folds. Your hand grabs a chunk of hair, your thigh gets thrown over your shoulder.

“Can’t go five minutes without h-having your mouth on something, huh? So needy Takuma.” The brunette whines into your cunt, the vibrations make your breath hitch in your throat.

“Please, please. I need it so bad” With no remorse, he’s squeezing his hot tongue In between your folds attending to your throbbing clit. The second grade begins to buck his hips into the sheets searching for any type of friction to soothe his half hard cock. Ino moves his lanky fingers to circle your sopping hole before inserting two fingers. He looks up at you for approval, strands of loose hair sticking to his forehead, eyes glossy and doe like a puppy.

“Need you s-so bad mommy, so bad. Only n-need you.” The brunettes back to lapping your juices with his tongue not letting anything slip by.

“Yeah? I see the way you look at Nanami, maybe I should ask him if he could do something with that whore-ish cock of yours.” Ino lets a high pitched moan slip between his lip, his hips that were once rutting into the sheets at a steady pace now stutter in their wake. You begin to grind your pussy over the mouth presented to you and Takuma’s fingers frenzy thrusting into your plush insides through the ring of muscle.

“Fuckk, pleasemommypleasemommyplease-” The moan he produces is damn right pornographic and it’s not long before he’s looping an arm around you pulling your warm, slick, cunt impossibly closer. While being nose deep into your pussy, Takuma borderline suckles on your clit like he would your hardened nipples when the cool air becomes too much on nights and you groan at the intensity of it all. Fingers pressed into your entrance, a hot tongue circling around your bud, and all of a sudden the chord in your stomach is moments away from snapping.

“Need you to finish, need to taste all of it. Please.” The brunette realizes when you finish almost immediately, your warm walls are squeezing his fingers so tight that it could cut the circulation. You’re quivering, vision spoty, and eyes rolled to the back of your head, and that’s all he needs to shoot white streams into his boxers like a horny teenager. You’re both panting while you throw an arm over your eyes, your opposite hand placed on the back of his neck rubbing your thumb up and down his nape.

“You did good Takuma, you did good.”

💌💌💌💌

we’re gonna act like I haven’t posted in three months…

I need —active— moots please 😓 (show it to me please!☹️ send it to me Rachel 😓)

[aesthetically-dying101]

Unwritten Terms and Conditions.

A/N: first time i post on tumblr (lawd im spooked), anyways this is completely new? Um... yeah.. i hope y'all will like this?

WC: 10900 i think.

Nanami Kento x reader.

So uh... rivals to lovers (they hate each other your honor), office romance (nanami is the OG office siren idc)... the works. Very innacurate work, innacurate office relations, innacurate portrayal of a job. Innacurate overall babes. I'm not actually sure of whatt i've written. so um.. yeah, i hope y'all will like this. I'm double posting on tumblr/ao3 so ye

Might have a part two with smut.

Do not copy nor translate my work.

The elevator dinged.

11th floor

And you stepped out.

The polished floors of the office gleamed under the fluorescent lights as you strode in, head held high, walking with the kind of confidence that made every pair of eyes in the room glance your way.

Every step was deliberate, the sleek pencil skirt hugging your form, tailored to perfection, the crisp white blouse tucked neatly at your waist.

This wasn't just any office job, it was a place for the best and brightest, and you intended to show them that you deserved to be there. 

No room for mediocrity in your world.

It was the job—the coveted position in a company known for demanding excellence. Only the best survived here, and you intended to thrive, and anyways, you knew you would. 

The conference room was filled with the murmurs of your new colleagues as you all gathered for the morning briefing. As you entered the glass-walled conference room, the hum of conversation faded.

Here you stood, in a board room full of new faces, you were being introduced by the team head.

Rina Takahashi.

She was a strict looking woman, her black hair pulled into a perfectly structured bun (which you admired because wow that thing was flawless). She was part of a board of superiors- your new board of superiors.

The room was filled with top-tier professionals—sharp suits, calculating eyes, the kind of people who lived for the thrill of competition. Their gazes flicked toward you, curiosity sharpening into something keener.

There was a hush when you entered, the kind that makes you feel like the world suddenly turned its attention toward you. You knew exactly what they were thinking: Who is she? It wasn’t arrogance—it was confidence.

There was a difference.

All eyes were on the new blood, and you weren’t about to disappoint.

“Everyone,” Rina said sharply, raising a hand to silence the group. “This is the newest member of the team. Let’s make sure we show her what it means to work with the best."

You offered a polite smile, a subtle nod, and then turned your attention back to the group.

Your eyes racked on each member of the team you were being allocated to, until they landed on a man.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and impeccably dressed in a charcoal-gray suit, the kind that looked effortlessly expensive. His blond hair was neatly combed back, glasses sitting on his nose, and he sat with an air of quiet detachment. 

And then, his eyes met yours.

You didn’t look away first.

For a moment, he just stared, silent, calculating. Something flickered in his gaze, but he quickly masked it, turning his attention back to the meeting.

That was your first real introduction to Nanami Kento.

-

The following weeks at the company were a blur of meetings, presentations, and endless deadlines, you were given an office (that you were allowed to customise whichever way you wanted- hooray). You learned quickly that Nanami was a figure to be reckoned with. He was one of the senior executives, respected and feared by most, and it didn’t take long for you to realise that he didn’t like you.

AKA, he was annoying, and you weren't going to let him walk all over you. You sure as hell weren't going to let a stuck up- way too pretty man- 'beat' you- the guy had a broom stuck up his ass. 

It wasn’t that he outright dismissed you—no, he wasn’t that brash.

Of course not.

But there was always a coolness in his words, a sort of professional indifference that grated against you. Every time you spoke in meetings, he’d watch you with narrowed eyes, making a point to subtly counter your suggestions with his own.

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes every time.

And you? You weren’t about to back down. Every time he challenged you, every time his voice grew just a little colder, you met him with equal fire. You had your own ideas, your own vision, and you weren’t afraid to show them.

Nanami’s voice cut through the conference room during a particularly heated meeting:

"While I respect your enthusiasm, I think it would be more practical to approach this from a different angle. Your strategy is—" He paused, tapping his pen against the table with a faint sigh. "—risky, and we can’t afford that right now."

Your eyes narrowed.

“I’m aware of the risks, Mr. Nanami,” you replied, your voice calm but firm. “But sometimes, in order to achieve the best results, we need to take risks. Otherwise, we’re just playing it safe, and that’s not how we move forward.”

The tension was papable, the other members looking between the two of you like a sort of weird tenis match.

You held his gaze. 

He didn’t like being contradicted, but there was something in your conviction that made him hesitate. He couldn’t argue with your logic, even if it stung his pride a little.

"Let’s table this for now," Rina said, her voice cutting through the tension. "We’ll revisit it later."

-

You came in everyday twenty minutes early, 7:30 am sharp, dressed to a T, heals clicking on the floor as you greeted the couple other early colleges. A fresh cup of coffee in hand as you walked down the main hall to your office. You looked incredibly put together and organised- almost rivalling Nanami. 

Actually no, you definitely rivalled Nanami.

Today was special- your first monthly team meeting with the higher ups. Everyone sat around the large oval table, the higher ups went over the numbers, the documents.. everything.

And then it happened.

"And of course, a special thanks to our new hire." Rina gestured towards you, a soft smile on her face. "Who's work has been nothing short of remarkable."

The higher ups nodded and agreed with her.

Mentally, you were dancing on the oval table, mocking Nanami.

In the real world, you simply nodded, smiled and shrugged:

"Of course, the workload is manageable."

Okay so you were petty- who cares? It felt good to have your work openly praised, especially by the superiors, and even more in front of everyone.

The meeting went on, and you could feel Nanami's presence beside you, unwavering, yet somehow… distant. He remained composed, his focus never wavering, as he took note of the discussions around the table. You couldn't help but notice the slight furrow of his brow when Rina mentioned your name. It was subtle, but you caught it. Was that… surprise? Annoyance? You couldn't tell, and honestly, you didn't care. You were too busy relishing in the praise from the higher-ups.

After the meeting ended, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at Nanami as everyone stood up, getting ready to leave. You packed up your things with a smug little smile, knowing that you had outperformed him. You walked past him on your way to the door, but his voice stopped you before you could leave. 

You reached for the door, your hand already on the handle, when his voice sliced through the quiet hum of the office.

“Impressive.”

"Hm?" You barely turned, looking over your shoulder. "What was that?"

Nanami was standing by the table, his fingers drumming lightly on the edge of a notebook. The air between you both felt thick with the aftermath of the meeting, though you didn’t let on how much you were enjoying the subtle victory. His eyes were fixed on you, but there was no warmth in his gaze—only the faintest flicker of something you couldn't quite place.

"Your presentation," he continued, his tone carefully neutral, though there was an almost imperceptible tension in his posture. "It was… concise. Well-organized.

"Thank you. I do aim to please." Your words were casual, almost teasing, as you took a step toward the door. The tension you’d been feeling in the room seemed to hang in the air like a charged electrical current.

You could feel him watching you. You weren't going to let him have the satisfaction of knowing how much that small comment affected you.

As you reached for the door again, his next words came, just low enough for only you to hear.

“Don’t get too comfortable.”

You paused, hand still on the handle, heart skipping a beat. His voice, even when laced with barely contained ice, held a certain quality that made your pulse quicken.

“I’m just getting started.” You didn’t look back as you stepped out, your heels clicking sharply against the floor as you walked away, knowing that Nanami’s eyes were still on you.

Nanami watched you walk out of the room, the sound of your heels echoing down the hallway like a taunt. His mind replayed your words, your smile, the way you’d seemed to take pleasure in every inch of that moment.

When you went back into your small office, Aiko, one of your team members, gave a little knock and popped her head in.

"Holy shit- congrats!!"

You tried to play it cool- only grinning in response, on the inside though, you felt so damn smug and good.

Aiko's face lit up with excitement, her dark eyes sparkling as she grinned at you. She wasn't exactly subtle—she practically vibrated with enthusiasm. 

"Y'know, I really thought Nanami was gonna fuckin' implode. He's the only one that usually gets that type of praise. He looked like someone told him the stock market crashed. I don't I've ever seen him move his face like that- his eyebrow twitched! And he blinked- liked twice- that's insane!"

A laugh bubbled out before you could stop it, and you pressed a hand over your mouth, trying to look composed. "His eyebrow twitched? Really?"

"Twice! It was like watching a machine glitch. You might actually be the first person to ever rattle him." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "I think he's starting to realize you're not just here to make up the numbers."

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I'm just doing my job."

But inside? Oh, inside, you were practically glowing. Rattling Nanami Kento, the man who seemed more robot than human, felt like a victory worth savouring.

-

It had been two weeks since the meeting. Two weeks since you’d walked past Nanami with that smug little smile, and he still couldn’t get the image out of his mind. He found himself replaying that moment. The confidence in your stride, the glint of triumph in your eyes—it haunted him.

He didn’t want it to.

He prided himself on being composed, measured, immune to the trivial distractions of office politics or—he scoffed at the thought—office flirtations. Yet here he was, leaning against his desk, staring blankly at a report that should have had his full attention, while you occupied too much space in his mind.

Every morning- 7:30 sharp, when he heard the sharp click of your heels in the hallway, he tensed, anticipating your arrival. He didn’t understand why his heart raced in those moments. 

Like everyday since those three months that you had joined the company, Nanami didn’t need to check the clock. He knew it was exactly 7:30. His hand hovered over the report in front of him, pen poised, but the words blurred into a meaningless haze.

He hated it. How ridiculous, juvenile even.

And yet—there it was. 

Every. Damn. Day.

When you appeared in the doorway, your smile was as sharp as ever.

“Good morning, Nanami,” you said, your tone light, but there was an edge to it—a challenge.

“Good morning,” he replied stiffly, not looking up from the report in front of him. He refused to give you the satisfaction of seeing how tightly he gripped his pen.

"Hope you had a lovely evening." You quipped. "By the way-" You gently dropped a file on his desk, next to his hand- such a pretty hand- "Here you go." 

Nanami’s gaze flicked briefly to the file, then back to the report in front of him, refusing to acknowledge the way your fingers had brushed the edge of his desk���close enough to touch. He hated that he noticed the soft scent you carried, something faintly floral, delicate. He loathed the way it lingered.

“What is this?” he asked, voice steady but clipped.

“Updated figures,” you replied sweetly, your tone all innocence. “I thought I’d save you the trouble of finding the errors. I know how thorough you like to be.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened. That smug little smile, the one that made his pulse spike despite himself, was still playing at the corners of your lips. He could already feel the burn of irritation coiling in his chest. 

You were insufferable

Like a child who found a new noisy, light up toy, and kept waving it around.

His eyes flicked back to the file on his desk, though he didn’t move to touch it. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you; it was that he hated the idea that you might have found a way to make him look careless in front of the rest of the team. He was always thorough. Always precise. He didn’t even need to look up to feel the weight of your gaze, calm, measured, like you were waiting for him to crack. 

The audacity of it.

"Is this supposed to be some kind of subtle jab?" he asked, his voice colder than he intended. "I don’t need your help."

You didn’t flinch, your smile unwavering. 

“I didn’t think you did,” you said smoothly, stepping back, your heels clicking against the polished floor as you moved slightly away from his desk, but not far enough to be out of his reach. "I just thought you’d like to avoid a mistake. It's not like I enjoy fixing your errors, Nanami."

You were an annoyance. 

A distraction.

"Don't waste your time," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "I’ll review it."

"Of course," you said, your voice still sweet, but there was an edge to it now—an undercurrent of amusement, perhaps even triumph. And with that, you turned and left, those goddamn heals clicking against the floor in a perfect rhythm. 

Fuck he hated you. 

- 

The next day, Nanami was at his desk early again. 7:30. He couldn’t stop the instinctual tightening of his chest when he heard the click of your heels. He sat straighter, adjusting his tie as if the mere presence of you required him to be on his guard.

He needed to be nothing short of perfect- especially when you were around.

“Good morning, Nanami,” you said with that same confident, cool smile, your eyes scanning the room before settling on him.

“Morning,” he grunted, doing his best to keep his voice even.

You didn’t respond right away, instead dropping a few more files onto his desk—closer this time, as if you knew exactly where to place them to make him feel something.

"Just a few updates," you said, almost casually, as if this was all normal. As if this wasn’t some subtle war of attrition between you two. "There was a mistake on Q2. Thankfully I caught it. Do take a look at the updated version please, try to get it to me before lunch- that is if you can of course, no pressure."

His eyes shifted to your hands for a second. 

Perfectly manicured, a soft pastel pink with hints of glitter. Two silver rings.

None on your ring finger.

He shouldn’t be thinking about your hands. Or how they looked so perfectly manicured.

 He felt an irritation bubble in his chest, a tightness he couldn’t explain. You were too composed, too perfect in every little thing you did. The way you moved, the way you spoke.. just everything about you seemed deliberate, designed to get under his skin.

"I’ll have it to you by lunch," Nanami replied curtly, not willing to show any hint of weakness. 

"Good," you said, stepping back from his desk but still lingering just enough to make him feel the weight of your presence. "I’ll be around if you need anything."

Nanami didn’t look up as you walked away, but his attention was fixed on the file you’d left behind. As he opened it, he could see the penmenship, and he honestly wanted to just.. throw the file in the trash, refuse to acknowledge your critics, burn the file- no burn the building.

With the file in it.

Not at all dramatic.

-

Hell only began (for Nanami specically), a couple weeks later, you had been part of the office for around five months now.

Five months of you and your perfection, your presence always lingering just enough to annoy him, yet never enough to fully push you out of his thoughts. Five months of his mind constantly circling back to you, he had begun to hate(?) you.

And why did hell start?

Because you were asked to take the lead in a very, very important portfolio.

“Nanami, I’ve got some updates for you,” Rina had said, “You’re going to be working on the Gojo portfolio with her. You’re both great at what you do, and this project—well, it’s too big for anyone to handle alone. This portfolio is massive, and the two of you are the best we’ve got. Think of the potential!”

The words barely registered at first. 

Gojo. 

You.

Potential.

Yes, potential to drive him absolutely insane.

The Gojo portfolio- that family was infamous, as much as the Zenin family, those fuckers had more money than a small country. They were important people, with lots of connections, and the portfolios meant hundreds of millions of dollars- potentially billions.

Said Gojo family, that name alone sent a shiver of dread down his spine. They were a powerful, untouchable dynasty—people who played the game of business with an arrogance that came from decades of wealth and influence. They controlled assets in dozens of industries, their connections stretching across borders. And now, their portfolio was going to be the crown jewel of his department. 

Generations of influence, their fingers in every major pie, from finance to real estate to tech. The portfolio would be the most important thing his department had seen in years, and now, you—you—would be holding the reins.

But more importantly, it was the project that could define careers. The financial windfall alone was enough to make anyone salivate. And when Rina had told him that you’d be the one spearheading it, something inside him snapped.

His first reaction was something close to disbelief. He didn't hate you, per se—no, he loathed you. He loathed how easily you adapted to the rhythm of the office, how effortlessly you’d made your mark. You were a force, and every day, you chipped away at the barriers he so carefully built. But this? He had to admit it—he was furious.

He was furious. 

Furious that you, the person who had somehow turned his well-ordered world upside down, were going to take the reins on this. Furious that Rina—who he had worked alongside for years—thought that the two of you would work well together.

Furious that you had already made a name for yourself in the department, while he had to claw through every task, every project, with every ounce of effort just to maintain his position.

You had done this. This… shift in the office dynamic, where everything now seemed to revolve around you. Where his attention was so often dragged back to you, despite his best efforts to stay focused.

Whatever.

-

The next day, you two began working together.

The Gojo portfolio was a completely different beast. 

It required precision, flawless attention to detail, and relentless dedication. And like clockwork, at exactly 7:30 a.m, you were already in the office, your heels clicking against the polished floor in that deliberate rhythm that had begun to haunt Nanami's mornings- he swore he could almost hear those wretched heals in his sleep.

 He focused on the documents spread across his desk, the numbers blurring into meaningless lines as your presence filled the room.

"Morning," you said smoothly, setting down your bag with grace. "Did you review the reports I sent last night?"

Without looking at you, Nanami nodded curtly. "Yes." His tone was clipped, detached. He didn’t look at you right away. He refused. But he could feel your presence beside him like an itch under his skin, impossible to ignore. You were calm, composed, utterly unfazed by the weight of the portfolio you’d been handed. That alone made his blood boil. Did you ever feel the pressure? Did you ever doubt yourself?

"Good," you replied, your voice too calm, too assured. "Because we have a lot to get through today. The Gojos aren’t exactly patient." And with that, you pushed a coffee and a muffin towards him. "I think it'll be interresting to work with you, both Rina and Aiko have sang your praices- hell, even the interns Yuki, Megumi and Nobara adore you."

You pulled your computer out, with two notebooks, and a couple files, getting ready for a day of work.

"And anyways.." You continued, back to your usual tone. "I find it cute, how the interns look up to you- especially Yuji. I think if he could, he'd shadow you 24/7. It says a lot."

His eyes flicked back to the files scattered across his desk, trying to focus on the work at hand. The Gojo portfolio. Important, urgent. He had a job to do.

But of course, your voice—the smooth, unfaltering tone that always seemed to slice through the tension in the room—was impossible to ignore. You were impossible to ignore.

"I’m sure you’ve heard all the praise," you said, not looking up from your own laptop, the steady click of your keys the only sound in the room for a moment. "The interns are all so eager to learn from you, Nanami. Makes me wonder how you’ve built such a reputation. I must say it impresses me."

His eyes briefly flicked up to you, watching as you worked with that cool, effortless grace, the steady rhythm of your fingers on the keyboard almost mocking him.

He hated you.

How dare you act as if this wouldn't be the portfolio in your life?

He forced his gaze back down to the files, forcing himself to remember why he was here, why this partnership was necessary. The Gojo portfolio. This was the big one. His career was riding on this. Not that he needed reminding—he was always painfully aware of the stakes.

The rest of the day was either silent, either the usual talk.

-

It was a week later that you first met the Gojo lawyers. 

And it didn't exactly go.. sensationally well.

When Nanami, closely followed by you stepped in, one of the lawyers snapped his fingers at you:

"Go get us some coffee's, thanks." said lawyer turned to Nanami, "I thoughts there would be two of you today?"

You both froze. First of all, you were the only woman in the room. Secondly, that lawyer clearly expected two men to be on the case. 

The room went still.

Nanami’s jaw tightened, the faintest tick in his temple betraying his irritation. He glanced at you, just a quick flick of his eyes, but it was enough to see the slight raise of your brow, the cool, calculating expression that had become so familiar.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even blink. Instead, you stepped forward, setting your files down on the sleek conference table with deliberate precision- they made a small 'thump' sound. 

 The audacity. His gaze lingered on you for a fraction of a second longer than it should have, searching for a reaction—disdain, fury, anything.

But you didn’t give them that satisfaction. Instead, you smiled.

It was a cold, dangerous smile, the kind that promised retribution without raising your voice. 

“I think you’re mistaken,” you said smoothly, your voice like silk over steel. “I’m here to lead this meeting, not to fetch your coffee.”

Nanami exhaled quietly through his nose, the smallest hint of satisfaction blooming in his chest. The lawyer blinked, clearly taken aback by your composed demeanor, but you didn’t stop there.

“And for the record,” you added, flipping open the top file with a precise flick of your wrist, “if I were to get anyone coffee, I’d make sure to ask if they could afford the time it takes. Because, as I understand it,” your eyes flicked to the lawyer’s expensive watch, “you’re already behind schedule.”

Nanami would've loathed to be on the other side of your words- but he internally grinned, it was beautiful to see you in action. It was like watching someone dismantle a ticking bomb with their bare hands, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was mesmerizing.

The lawyer’s face flushed, a dark red blooming across his cheeks. “I—” he began, but his voice faltered.

Nanami finally spoke, his voice low and calm, though there was an unmistakable edge to it. “If we’re finished with the unnecessary pleasantries, perhaps we can begin the actual business.” His eyes cut to the lawyer, cold and unyielding. “Or should I assume you’re not prepared?”

The lawyer sputtered, but the damage was already done. The balance of power in the room had shifted, and everyone knew it.

You settled into your chair, crossing your legs with an air of absolute composure, like you’d just won a game only you knew you were playing. “Shall we?” you said, gesturing to the documents spread across the table.

Nanami lowered himself into the seat beside you, his posture rigid but controlled. He could feel the heat of your presence next to him, the proximity sending a spark through his nerves. He hated that too—the way you unsettled him without even trying. But damn it if he wasn’t impressed.

As the meeting continued, your voice filled the room, sharp and commanding, dismantling the Gojo lawyer’s every attempt to regain control with precise, cutting logic. Nanami watched you work, silent and calculating, his respect for you begrudgingly deepening with every word you spoke.

When the meeting finally ended, the lawyers shuffled out, the one rat looking asshole was being whisper-shouted at by another lawyer. Nanami stayed seated, watching as you gathered your files with meticulous care.

“Not bad,” he said quietly, the closest thing to a compliment you’d get from him.

You glanced at him, a flicker of amusement dancing in your eyes. “High praise, coming from you. I'm honored."

Nanami didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he studied you for a long moment, his gaze heavy and unreadable. He didn’t want to admit it—not to you, not to himself—but something had shifted. His hatred wasn’t as pure as it had been before- if it even had been hatred.

And that terrified him.

Without another word, you stood, giving him one last smirk before walking out of the conference room, heels clicking against the marble floor like a metronome.

-

The Gojo portfolio had transformed into an all-consuming monster. Early mornings bled into late nights, leaving the office bathed in the muted glow of computer screens long after everyone else had gone home. 

You worked with a ruthless precision, dissecting financials, anticipating client demands, and somehow maintaining that maddeningly calm demeanor. He hated it. He hated how flawless you seemed. And he hated himself more for the way he kept catching himself watching, listening, noticing every little thing.

It drove him insane.

“You’re staring, Nanami,” you said one evening without looking up, your voice cool and teasing. “Something on your mind?”

He snapped his gaze back to the papers in front of him, cursing under his breath. “No.”

You glanced at him, that sly smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Liar.”

Nanami forced himself to remain calm, though his grip on the pen tightened. “Focus on the projections. We’re behind.”

“Actually, we’re not,” you countered, sliding a neatly tabbed document across the table toward him. “I recalculated the figures last night.”

He hated it- he loved it- he was going absolutely insane.

The worst part? He couldn’t stop thinking about you.

It had become routine: every morning, you’d arrive, heels clicking down the hall with that same, maddening precision, and Nanami would already be sitting at his desk, pretending to concentrate on the piles of paperwork in front of him.

You never missed a beat, always greeted him with that cool, calculating smile.

“Morning,” you’d say, dropping another file onto his desk, eyes gleaming with that ever-present challenge.

“Morning,” Nanami would respond with a tight smile, the words barely leaving his mouth before he’s caught in your gaze. It was the same routine every day, and yet, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that you were always just a step ahead.

-

It was late one night when the two of you were working overtime, the office almost empty, save for the quiet hum of fluorescent lights above and the distant sounds of your tapping keyboards. You had even pulled out the bleu light glasses. 

Nanami rubbed his eyes, trying to focus, but his gaze kept drifting over to you—your brow furrowed in concentration, your hair pulled back in that messy ponytail. He hated how attractive-NO. NOT THAT.  

He forced himself to focus on the spreadsheet in front of him, tapping his pen rhythmically against the desk in a futile attempt to drown out the quiet sounds of you typing. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, the crisp fabric of his shirt wrinkled from hours of work. He refused to think about how your gaze had flicked to his arms when he adjusted his collar earlier- you were probably mocking him mentally.

He shook his head and went back to work.

You stole a glance, the veins prominent along his arms, and one involuntary word crossed your mind: whore.

The thought startled you, and you stifled a laugh, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the sound from escaping. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you refocused, staring at the data that had blurred together over the last several hours. You couldn't let him see that his presence was getting to you. 

You were adjusting your blue light glasses, pushing them up the bridge of your nose with an exasperated air. The action was so unguarded, so normal, that it struck him unexpectedly. You looked—no. He clamped down on the thought before it could form.

Not now. 

Not ever.

Nuh huh.

Nanami’s pen paused mid-tap, and he turned slightly in his chair, the weight of his gaze settling on you like a physical presence. “What?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though there was a note of irritation. “You’re staring.”

You blinked, feigning innocence, your fingers resuming their measured tap against the keyboard. “I wasn’t staring,” you replied smoothly. “I was thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

“Oh, you know,” you said airily, glancing at him sideways-fuck you wanted to sink your teeth in his perfect forearm argh-, “about how much time you waste tapping that pen. Very productive."

“You could have just said it’s distracting,” he replied flatly, his tone even. “Instead of making it another one of your clever little remarks.”

"You think I'm clever?" You quiped back. Honestly the tiredness was getting to you, or else you would've never said that.

Nanami's eyes narrowed, his pen tapping once more before falling silent. He leaned back slightly in his chair, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

 “Don’t twist my words,” he said, voice clipped. “I said nothing of the sort.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, leaning back in your own chair with a small, tired grin. “You didn’t deny it fast enough. Clearly, you think I’m clever. It’s okay to admit it, Nanami. We’re all friends here.”

“Friends?” he echoed, an incredulous scoff escaping before he could stop it. “Is that what we are now?”

“Well,” you began, a playful lilt in your voice, “we’re certainly something. You, me, this portfolio—it’s practically a romance.”

“I’d rather not associate this project with anything resembling a romance.”

You chuckled, a sound that was too soft, too unguarded for the moment, and it grated at him. “Relax, Nanami,” you said, turning your attention back to the screen in front of you. “It’s just a joke. You really need to loosen up.”

“Loosening up is exactly how people make mistakes,” he retorted sharply, eyes focused on his screen now. “And we can’t afford mistakes. Not with this portfolio.”

“Right, of course,” you murmured, the teasing edge fading from your voice. “The almighty Gojo portfolio.” There was a pause, and then, more softly: “You don’t think I’m taking this seriously?”

His hands stilled over the keyboard. For a moment, he said nothing, the hum of the office the only sound between you. Then, his voice, quieter now, “I think you enjoy making light of things that shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

You turned to face him, resting your chin on your hand, and studied him. “You think I’m joking because I don’t care. That’s what you really believe, isn’t it?”

His gaze flickered to you, a flash of something unreadable in his eyes before it vanished. “I believe,” he said carefully, “that your confidence borders on arrogance.”

“And your perfectionism borders on obsession,” you shot back, but there was no bite to the words. “We balance each other.”

Nanami exhaled slowly, the words settling between you like an uneasy truce. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was truth in what you said. Your approach was different—infuriatingly so—but it was effective. The two of you did balance each other, as much as it grated on him to acknowledge it.

“You’re not wrong,” he muttered at last, eyes drifting back to his screen.

You blinked, looking at him shocked, caught off guard. “Did you just—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, tone warning, though there was no real malice in it. “Don’t make me regret it.”

A smile tugged at your lips, genuine and unguarded. “I’ll treasure the moment.”

Nanami bit back a sigh, forcing his attention back to the portfolio, but the warmth of your smile lingered longer than it should have. He hated it. Hated how much space you occupied in his mind.

But what he hated most was the gnawing realization that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t hate it at all.

-

After the second wet dream he had of you, he knew he was done for.

Buried.

Cremated.

Entombed.

The Gojo portfolio continued, it was estimated to take around five months to fully finalise, that meant four more months of working with you.

And he wasn't sure he'd be able to take it.

The next morning, Nanami sat at his desk earlier than usual. His thoughts were a mess—an infuriating, tangled web of work and you. He had spent the night convincing himself that the dreams were just a byproduct of stress, a mental slip caused by the long hours and high stakes of the Gojo portfolio.

And yet, when the familiar click of your heels echoed down the hallway, his heart betrayed him with its predictable quickening.

Get a grip.

You entered, balancing a coffee in one hand and a stack of papers in the other, your blue light glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. The faint scent of your perfume trailed behind you as you approached his desk. Nanami stared resolutely at his screen, trying to ignore the way his pulse jumped.

“Morning,” you said, setting the coffee down beside him with a casual air. “Thought you might need a pick-me-up. Late night?”

Nanami stared at the coffee for a second, it was his preferred order- which you had memorised. 

“Yes,” he said finally, his voice flat, betraying nothing. “Late night.” He reached for the coffee, his fingers brushing the cup, and the warmth bled into his palm. He took a sip, savoring the bitter taste as if it could wash away the thoughts plaguing him. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” you replied easily, sliding into the chair across from him, settling in as though this was the most natural thing in the world. “We both need all the caffeine we can get if we’re going to survive the next four months.”

Nanami tensed. Four months. The reminder felt like a death sentence.

And he was already dead.

“Survival,” he echoed, forcing a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s one way to put it.”

You glanced at him over the rim of your glasses, an amused glint in your eyes. “Oh, come on, Nanami. It won’t be that bad. I’m not that unbearable, am I?”

He didn’t answer immediately, just focused on the report in front of him. The numbers blurred together again, your voice too distracting. His grip on the pen in his hand tightened. Yes, he wanted to say. You’re infuriating, impossible, maddening. But instead, he kept his tone carefully neutral.

“You’re tolerable,” he said, deliberately nonchalant. “On good days.”

Your laughter was soft, like the gentle chime of a bell, and it cut through the tension in the room. It wasn’t the reaction he expected, and it made something in his chest twist in an unfamiliar way.

“Well, that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all week,” you teased, flipping open one of the files. “I’ll take it.”

He hated how your laughter made the room feel lighter. He hated how you brushed off his barbs with ease, like they were nothing more than harmless banter. But most of all, he hated how much he was beginning to look forward to these moments- this wasn't good.

The next few hours passed in relative silence, the two of you working side by side. You would occasionally glance at him, offering a slight smirk whenever you caught him scowling at the screen, as though you knew exactly what was going through his mind.

And then, at 2:00 PM sharp, Rina called for a meeting.

The Gojo family’s lawyers were predictably dismissive, questioning the projections and raising concerns. But Nanami handled them today, which.. lord. Oh. Lord. 

The worst? 

He rolled his sleeves up again and-urghhhh. Stay focused. 

The Gojo lawyers, as expected, were dismissive, arrogant, and relentless. Their questions were pointed, their criticisms unyielding. But Nanami stood firm, taking each jibe with the calm demeanor that he’d perfected over the years. He was in control. He had to be.

But when the lawyer turned to you—you, the woman who had managed to stay silent for the last twenty minutes—something in Nanami’s chest tightened. He wasn’t sure why, but his gaze lingered as you stood to answer, every move you made purposeful, confident.

You handled the situation flawlessly, your words sharp but measured. You held your ground, never wavering, even as the lawyer tried to undermine you.

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” the lawyer asked with a sneer, clearly annoyed by your poise.

You smiled thinly, leaning forward just enough to convey both authority and calm.

“Everything,” you confirmed, locking eyes with him. "And more."

Nanami watched, something shifting in his chest as he realized just how perfectly you fit into this office.

-

As the months continued to stretch pass, the portfolio, the hellish project was coming to an end. In a week.

A week and the two of you would be free- with a hefty bonus and a week time off.

"Look at my baby." You interrupted during an afternoon, you had been staring at the same sequence of stats for almost twenty minutes and needed a break, so you shoved your phone into Nanami's hold, a picture of your rag-doll cat on the screen.

Nanami blinked, looking over the rim of his glasses, staring at the phone in his hand, momentarily thrown off by your sudden proximity. His fingers brushed against yours as he took it from you, and for a fleeting moment, he forgot how to breathe.

He could die in peace now.

He glanced at the screen, his gaze flicking to the image of your cat, a rag-doll with fluffy fur and wide, innocent blue eyes. The cat looked comfortable in its bed, as if living a life of luxury—nothing like the stress and chaos that had consumed Nanami's world lately.

"She’s cute," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral, but there was a tightness in his chest that he couldn't explain. It wasn’t the cat—he could tell you loved her, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that you had taken a moment to show him something personal. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d done something like that—slid into his personal space without hesitation, pulled him into your orbit with ease. But each time, it left him feeling like he was losing some battle he hadn’t even realized he was fighting.

"What’s her name?"

You smiled, a soft, almost wistful expression, your lips curling just enough to show a hint of warmth, of something almost affectionate. 

"Her name’s Mochi," you replied, eyes flickering down to your phone for a second, but he noticed the small shift in your demeanour. "My little baby- you gotta meet her one day."

You didn't seem to realise the innuendo (oh you did).

His pulse beat in his ears, not from the picture, but from the unspoken implication. 

"Maybe," he said finally, as if he could drown out the sudden rush of heat that flooded his chest-and dick. "I’ll meet her… one day."

In that moment, when you’d shoved your phone into his hands and leaned a little too close, it was like you had given him something he couldn’t get anywhere else: a glimpse of something real. 

Something personal. Something you had never shared with anyone else.

"She’s a handful," you continued, oblivious to the way your words struck him. "She loves attention, especially when I’m working. She’ll jump right onto my desk and try to sit on my laptop, even if she’s already eaten and had a nap."

“And do you… have time for her?” Nanami asked before he could stop himself, the question slipping out like an impulse.

You raised an eyebrow, amused, clearly not expecting such a question from him. "Of course I do. It’s not all work, Nanami. You should know that by now-and anyways, you have time for Megumi, Yuki and Nobara." 

"You think I… have time for them?" he asked, though he didn't mean to. His voice sounded flat, detached, like it always did. But there was a little edge to it now—a layer of something deeper that he couldn’t quite cover up.

Your eyes flickered to him, slightly puzzled by the change in his tone. “I mean, you do, don’t you? You’re always so on top of everything, Nanami. They all look up to you. It’s obvious.”

You said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, as if it were just a fact of life. But Nanami couldn't quite shake the way your words tugged at him. Did you really see him like that? Did you see the way he looked after the interns, always ensuring they had what they needed, always pushing them to do better?

“Yeah,” he answered, voice quieter than he intended, “I suppose I do.”

-

The final week of the portfolio was a blur of meetings and final adjustments, the finish line in sight. But even with the end so close, Nanami couldn’t shake the thoughts of you. It was maddening, how much his mind kept drifting back to those small, seemingly innocent moments.

He was losing it, you were always. On. His. Fucking. Mind.

He dreamt of you.

It was impossible.

By the time the final presentation rolled around, Nanami’s chest was tight. He stood at the front of the room, addressing the Gojo family’s lawyers with his usual cool precision. But his eyes kept drifting back to you.

You were sitting in the front row, looking every bit the professional—composed, confident, perfect. But it wasn’t the report that caught his attention. It was the way you held yourself, the way your presence seemed to fill the room, to fill his thoughts.

And, for the first time in months, Nanami realized the truth.

He wasn’t just working with you anymore. No, somewhere along the way, he had started to want you.

In every way possible.

And that realization terrified him.

But it also made his heart race.

When the presentation wrapped up, and the Gojo family’s lawyers gave their approval, the weight lifted from his shoulders, but something else remained. A tension, a charge between you and him that wasn’t just about the project anymore.

“You did well,” you said quietly as you gathered your things, standing up and walking over to him. Your voice was low, almost… intimate.

Nanami nodded, though his words caught in his throat. “You did well too,” he murmured, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glanced at him, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Maybe you’ll finally meet Mochi.”

The way you said it, so lightly, like it was nothing but a joke, made Nanami’s heart thud in his chest.

But as you turned to leave, he couldn’t stop himself.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

And for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to believe it.

-

That week of vacation was amazing- for you, it was a welcome respite, a much-needed break to recover from the endless grind of the Gojo portfolio, after six months of work, you could relax. 

For Nanami?

Pure torture. The dreams got worse, he's hear your heals clicking on the floor in his sleep, he's feel your hands on him, your nails racking against his back, your lips against his neck-God. He needed to get a grip. 

He couldn't escape you.

It was pure torture.

No matter how hard he tried to immerse himself in the quiet of his apartment, in the mundane routines that used to ground him- the things he usually did, your voice echoed in his mind. Your laugh, your teasing, the way you’d look at him when you caught him staring. He could hear the click of your heels on the office floor, so vividly that it was as though you were still right there beside him. And then, the dreams, they continued. 

But they got worse. So much worse.

At first, they were simple, moments of you brushing against him, the soft press of your shoulder against his. But then, they evolved. 

His nights were now filled with images of you—your hands on him, nails raking down his back as he kissed you. Your lips against his neck, your breath against his ear, whispering his name.

He would wake up gasping, the sheets tangled around him, his body aching in ways he couldn't explain. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, and no matter how many times he tried to shake it off, it would linger. Every night, it became harder to distinguish between sleep and waking, as if you were already there with him, in his apartment, on his couch, in his bed.

You. You were in every corner of his thoughts.

He could probably charge you rent for how much you were plaguing his mind. 

By the end of the week, when his phone buzzed with a reminder that work was starting again, he felt his stomach drop. His vacation was over, and he was about to be thrown back into the fire. Into you.

-

The first day back at the office was not easy.

But at least the Gojo portfolio was over with. 

The minute Nanami stepped through the door, he was greeted by the familiar scent of coffee and papers, the quiet buzz of activity, and the sound of your heels clicking against the polished floor.

He froze for a second, his body tense, heart hammering, before he pushed through the door and made his way to his desk. The familiar sight of you, sitting at your workstation, absorbed in your laptop, sent a shiver down his spine. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the sight of you, how much he needed it.

Nanami’s hand hovered over the pile of reports, but his mind was elsewhere. His gaze drifted over to you again, and there you were, typing away on your laptop, completely absorbed in your work. The sound of your fingers on the keys was strangely soothing, but it also made his thoughts spiral in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Your nails were a dark red now. Still with two silver rings.

His pulse thudded in his ears, a constant reminder of how aware he was of you—how every second you were near him felt like a slow burn, something that crept under his skin and made his chest ache with a longing he couldn’t deny. 

And the worst part? He hated how much he liked it. He hated that you had a power over him, that no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, that stupid smile of yours would make him forget everything else.

You, in eleven months, had become the centre of his universe.

“Good morning, Nanami,” you said, not even looking up from your screen, the words light, casual.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice colder than he intended, his eyes snapping down to the reports in front of him. But his mind wasn’t on the work; it was on you, as always. The way your fingers danced over the keyboard, the way the sunlight caught in your hair, making it seem impossibly soft, like it belonged to a dream.

God, he was a fool.

A couple minutes later, one of the assistants brought you two coffee's, Nanami wondered for a second, then tried his damn hardest to focus back on his work, until he saw something in the corner of his eye.

A coffee cup.

Steaming.

His favorite.

You winked: "You're gonna need it, after a week of vaca, I always feel like death coming back to work."

Yeah, Nanami was fucked. 

He hadn’t even asked for it, yet you had remembered. The perfect temperature, the exact strength of the brew, just how he liked it. His fingers twitched at his sides, desperately holding back the flood of feelings he wasn’t ready to face. It was ridiculous, how much your small gesture unraveled him. But then again, everything about you unraveled him.

You had done this before- during the Gojo project.

And yet… He stared down at the coffee, willing himself not to give in to the urge to reach for it, to acknowledge your presence more than he already had. Instead, he pretended to focus on the reports, trying to push the rising tide of emotion back down.

But then your voice broke through his thoughts, and it was so casual, so easy.

He couldn’t even look at you without his heart going haywire, without his thoughts betraying him, reminding him of every little thing that made him want to reach across that desk and—

No.

He set the coffee down, a little more firmly than he meant to, the sound of the mug against the desk loud in the otherwise quiet office.

He had to focus. 

He had to keep it together.

You reached for your own coffee, that little smug smile still playing on your lips as you took a sip, not even acknowledging how much it was driving him mad. He clenched his fists under the table, trying to ignore the strange pull in his gut.

He needed a moment to breathe.

“Do you have something to say, or are you just going to sit there looking at me like you want to bite my head off?” you asked casually, tapping your nails against your cup as if you were entirely unaware of the storm you were causing inside him.

Of course you wouldn't give him a moment to breath. 

Why would you.

"No," he finally said, his voice quieter, almost too calm. "Just trying to focus on work."

You looked at him, your expression softening, almost imperceptibly, and that was what broke him.

"I don't think you're fooling anyone," you said, voice low now. "You think I don’t see how you’ve been acting lately? How you can barely look me in the eye when we’re in the same room?"

He could see your cleavage-fuck.

No.

Eyes up.

You were actually a bit impressed, Nanami didn't falter, his eyes stayed perfectly locked on yours. Un-moving. Professional. Like a good gentleman, keeping his eyes locked on yours while he could potentially have.. quite the view.

His gaze remained locked on yours, his face betraying nothing, as if you hadn’t just called him out on everything he had been trying so desperately to hide.

“Don’t worry, Nanami. I’m not going to bite,” you said softly, but there was a subtle undercurrent in your voice, one that had his pulse quickening all over again. You tilted your head slightly, as if savouring the effect you had on him- on the inside, you were kicking your feet like a little girl.

“I wasn’t worried,” he said, his voice tight and controlled, the words barely making it past his lips. “I just don’t see the point in discussing it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, your smile deepening. 

“Really? Because you’ve been acting like you’re dying to say something. You know, it’s kind of hard to ignore how much tension there’s been between us lately. And it’s not just me noticing, you know. Rina has noticed, Aiko had-hell, even the interns have."

But you shrugged, continuing to speak: "Anyways. T's up to you."

And with that, you gave him a card-the companies card, with a time: 7:30 pm, at the Spark Bar. You turned and walked away.

It was taking every ounce of self-control not to follow you, not to barge into your office and demand to know exactly what you meant by all of this. To demand you give him answers for the way his heart raced every time you entered the room, the way you made him lose focus the moment you said his name. The way he hadn’t even been able to look at another woman the entire time he’d worked with you. The way everything else—work, responsibilities, life—had blurred into the background whenever you were near.

-

That evening, exactly 7:29 pm, he stepped into the bar. He scanned the place for a moment, it wasn't packed, but wasn't completely empty. Then he saw you. Your blouse, undone a couple of buttons, just enough to show a hint of skin. The sharp line of your collarbones, the curve of your neck, the soft sheen of your skin in the low light. It was almost like you were daring him to look, daring him to notice how much more real you were without the rigid structure of the office around you.

And then there was the way you were sitting—one leg crossed over the other, just enough to hike the hem of your pencil skirt a little higher, the smooth skin of your thigh peeking out.

Nanami’s breath hitched. His eyes dragged unwillingly over the exposed skin, his pulse hammering in his chest. He wanted to look away. He wanted to pull himself together. But he couldn’t.

You were a vision. Damn you.

“Nanami,” you said, your voice slow, deliberate. “Glad you could make it. Cutting it close, I thought punctuality was one of your virtues.”

Nanami slid onto the stool beside you, his movements stiff, controlled. His hands rested on his thighs, fingers curling slightly as if to keep them from reaching for you. He let out a slow, measured breath.

“Had to think it through,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended, like sandpaper dragged across stone. He glanced at you, forcing his gaze to stay locked on your face, but it was a battle. “Didn’t want to waste your time.”

You watched carefully as he removed his jacket, and because of the heat, rolled his sleeves up. You un-bashfully stared at his forearms. 

You smirked, leaning back just enough to savour the view as Nanami rolled his sleeves up, revealing those forearms that had no right looking so strong. His movements were deliberate, controlled, but you could tell he knew. He had to know the effect he was having, the way your eyes tracked every flex of muscle beneath the skin, how you bit your lip without meaning to.

But he didn’t acknowledge it. Of course not. That wasn’t his style.

“Thinking it through?” you echoed, swirling the drink in your glass, the ice clinking softly. “And here I thought you were decisive. But maybe I overestimated you.”

Nanami’s jaw clenched. His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t bite. Not yet. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

You leaned forward slightly, propping your elbow on the bar, your chin resting on your hand, watching him with those sharp, knowing eyes that had undone him time and time again. “You are,” you murmured. 

You swirled the drink again, the clink of ice in glass the only sound between you for a beat too long. Finally, you broke the silence, voice low, almost teasing.

“So… did you think it through?”

Nanami exhaled slowly, dragging his eyes from your mouth to meet your gaze. 

It was torture. 

Pure, unrelenting torture. The way you were sitting there, confident, self-assured, every inch of you carefully constructed to drive him insane.

“I did,” he said quietly, the words tight, like they had to be pried out of him. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the bar, closing the distance between you just enough that your perfume wrapped around him like a noose. “And yet, here I am.”

Your eyes went to his forearm, then his hands-imagining them around your neck- oof. No.

“Here you are,” you repeated, the words barely above a whisper. “So tell me, what conclusion did you come to?”

His eyes met yours, and he didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. There was something raw in his gaze, something that was both reverent and desperate, like a man on the verge of breaking.

“The conclusion,” he said, voice low, gravelly, “is that I’ve been lying to myself.”

You leaned in, breath catching in your throat at the gravity of his words, but you didn’t interrupt. You let him speak.

“I’ve tried,” he continued, his voice steady but heavy with restraint. “I’ve tried to keep my distance. To focus on the job. To pretend that every glance, every word, every goddamn smile didn’t affect me.”

He exhaled, the sound sharp and hollow, his eyes darkening as they searched your face for some reaction. “But it does. You do.”

There it was. Laid bare. Raw. Unapologetic.

You tilted your head, your expression unreadable, though there was a glimmer of something softer in your eyes now-internally you were giggling like a little girl, loving this.

 “And what exactly have I done to you, Nanami?”

“What have you done to me?” He let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head as if to laugh off the absurdity of it. “You’ve…” He struggled for the right words, his throat tight with emotions he had never allowed himself to feel, not this strongly, not like this.

“You’ve made me forget how to breathe,” he finally admitted, the words coming out raw. He looked down at his hands, clenching them into fists on the bar as if they were the only things keeping him anchored, the veins becoming more prominent. “I can’t think straight when you’re near me. Every time you speak, I lose myself for a moment. Every time you look at me, I lose track of everything else.”

Your lips parted as if you were about to say something, but Nanami wasn’t done. The words were spilling out now, and there was no stopping them. 

“God, I’m so fucking aware of you. You make me feel like I’m always two steps behind, like I’m running from something I’ve already given into. Every time you walk into the room, I lose my mind. Every time you look at me, I want to pull you closer, but I can’t. I won’t.” His breath caught in his throat, and his chest tightened. “I’ve tried to keep it professional, to keep it normal. But you’ve made it impossible.”

You were fighting a smile, watching this poor man unravel in front of you.. you almost felt sympathy. 

“And here I thought you didn’t like me,” you teased, your voice soft, teasing but with a tenderness laced beneath it, the kind that made his throat tighten even more.

Nanami let out a breath, low and uneven. “I tried not to.”

The bar felt smaller, the air heavier, thick with everything left unsaid between you. Nanami’s confession hung between you like a fragile thread, one tug away from snapping. He sat there, rigid, shoulders tense, every line of his body taut with the effort of holding himself back- he looked almost delicious like that. 

Stressed out.

Over you- how flattering. 

“And yet, here we are,” you murmured, your voice low, soothing. “You, sitting here, spilling your heart out. And me, still waiting to understand why you’ve been driving yourself crazy.”

“Because it’s you,” he said, “Because every time I tried to push it away, you’d do something—laugh, roll your eyes, challenge me—and I’d lose all sense of reason.”

"It’s me, huh?” You tilted your head, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, but your eyes… your eyes betrayed something else. “I’ve got that much power over you?”

“More than you’ll ever know,” he replied, voice tight with both frustration and a deep, aching longing that he couldn’t bury any longer. He was done pretending. Done lying to himself. He was so fucking tired of fighting this.

You could tell.

"I think it's time you meet Mochi no?"

The innuendo was clear, you were inviting him back to your place. 

Nanami froze, the words hanging in the air between you, the invitation wrapped in a teasing smirk that belied the weight of it. For a heartbeat, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

“You—” he began, his voice breaking, “You can’t be serious.” The words were an automatic defense, but they tasted wrong on his tongue. His throat was dry. He could barely force them out.

But you didn’t flinch. 

“I’m very serious, Nanami,” you whispered. 

“Mochi?” His voice cracked on the word, like he was grasping for any semblance of control. “Your cat?” He sounded strained, like he was trying to convince himself that this wasn’t what it clearly was.

“Yes, Nanami.” You leaned in slightly, your tone sweet, teasing. “My cat. Who else did you think I was talking about?”

“You…” he took a deep breath in, struggling to regain control, “You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” you teased innocently, though the gleam in your eyes told a different story. “But you seem… flustered.”

"Mochi." He repeated, he looked sort of… confused now- much to your amusement.

“Yes, Nanami.” Your voice was soft but the underlying challenge was unmistakable. “My cat. What else would I mean? I didn’t realize you had such a vivid imagination.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low and almost apologetic, the words tumbling out without him thinking. “I don’t understand. I—” He stopped himself, realizing how desperate he must sound, how unhinged he was becoming. 

But how could he not? You had him tied up in knots.

“Are you sure you don’t understand?” you asked softly, almost too innocently. You let the silence stretch between you for just a second, watching him carefully. 

You grabbed his tie, toying with the soft fabric.

Nanami blinked, he turned towards the barman: "The tab please- hers too please." 

You grinned.

"Payin' for me are you? My my, what a gentleman." 

But you remained silent after that, watching Nanami pay for your drink, slide back onto his jacket and stare at you:

"So you said I could meet Mochi right?"

-

The instant you were back in your apartment, pushing the door open, the damn cat jumped on you- literaly. With a startled laugh, you barely managed to catch the small, fluffy body in your arms, the cat immediately starting to purr loudly, nuzzling into your neck with affection.

You looked up at Nanami, standing frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide, a soft chuckle escaping him at the sight of your struggle with Mochi.

“Meet Mochi,” you grinned, raising an eyebrow as you settled the cat comfortably in your arms. The little ball of fur had already claimed you as his personal perch. "I told you it was a very important introduction."

This version of you, so warm, so open, made his heart feel heavy. The tension, the walls, the professional front—none of it existed here. Just you. And him. And that damn cat, of course.

Mochi jumped out of your arms, and trotted up to Nanami. You looked down at the cat. 

"Mochi, this is Nanami Kento."

The way you said his name-argh.

He had to close his eyes and swallow for a second.

“Hi, Mochi,” he said softly, bending down to pet the cat. But his attention was still divided. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, standing there in the dim light of your apartment, looking so effortless, so inviting. The warmth of your home, of your presence, was intoxicating in a way that made his head spin.

You watched him, that teasing glint never leaving your eyes. He wasn’t the same stoic, composed Nanami from work. No, here, in your apartment, he was something else entirely—vulnerable, uncertain, human.

“You know,” you said, your voice a little quieter now, your teasing tone replaced by something more genuine, “I didn’t invite you here just to meet Mochi.”

You grabbed his tie, pulling him close, way too close, the tips of his ears burned.

"How many innuendos do I have to dish out for me to make it clear, hm?"

Before he could process anything more, you closed the distance, your lips pressing against his with a heat that burned away every lingering doubt, every shred of self-control. Nanami’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, and in that moment, all of the tension, all of the frustration, all of the longing that had been building for months collapsed into something more real.

More raw.

And as you kissed him, deeply, without hesitation, he realised he was never going to be able to walk away from this. From you. He had already crossed the point of no return.

And for the first time in a long while, Nanami didn’t care.

:)

[azuramarigold]

Underground Dealings

You were a typical office worker that one day gets fired at your job at a smaller office ran by Naoya Zen'in, but your friend, Yuji Itadori, who works at a small coffee shop that you discovered a year ago on your way to work, suggests that you apply to his uncle's company. What you didn't realize was that your assets were going to be important to the company in every department, and that every head, from the CEO to legal has their own underground dealings on what keeps the company afloat.

Characters: officeworker!reader x CEO!Sukuna, officeworker!reader x businessassociate!Gojo, officeworker!reader x salaryman!Nanami; other pairings to be added

Other characters: Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, Nobara Kugisaki, Naoya Zen'in, Maki Zen'in, Mai Zen'in, Uraume; other characters to be added.

Genre: modern au, eventual smut, 18+, angst, violence, gore

WARNINGS: (eventual) smut, blood, violence, gore, using weapons, death, drug use, smoking, alcohol use, cussing.

Divider/Navigation made by: saradika

Ko-Fi Commissions AO3 Profile

Prev.

Ch. 1 - Word Count: ~3.8k

Chapter 1: The Interview

The next day it was raining, and there was no point in getting up when your alarm indicated as now you didn’t have a job anymore.

            There was also no point in going to the coffee shop either as it was on your way to the office. Again, you no longer worked over there. Lying in bed, wrapped in dark cotton sheets as rain spattered against your windows was almost relaxing, but at the same time a sense of dread enveloped you.

            If you didn’t find a job soon, you’d get behind on rent. How will groceries get paid? Not to mention that student loans were still there and knocking at the door of your checking account every month. The reality was starting to set in, and your hands gripped the sheets tightly.

            Your phone began to ring, causing you to sit upright in a panic, your heart racing. Frantically, you look for your phone that you forgot was somewhere in your bed. You managed to find it just before it went to voicemail.

            “H-Hello…!?” you answered the phone breathlessly, not even bothering to see who it was.

            “Is this Y/N L/N?” It was the same gravelly voice from the night before.

            You cleared your throat. “Um, yes, this is she…” you replied, trying to sound professional.

            “Is this a cellphone that you’re calling from?” the man inquired.

            “Yes.”

            “I’m going to text you the address of Ryōmen Enterprises so that you can come for a face-to-face interview today at four.”

            You blinked in surprise.

            “Is that going to be a problem, sweetheart…?” a teasing tone pressed on the other line. “The brat made it seem like you really needed-”

            “Yes! I’ll be there!” you nearly shouted into the phone. “Please text me the address!”

            A rumble of a chuckle. “Alright. Please dress professionally and bring a copy of your resume then. It’ll be a pleasure to meet you.”

            Click.

            You threw your phone back onto your bed and made your way to the bathroom, a need to get ready for this interview. Turning on the water and showerhead and preparing one of your nicer shampoos and soaps that you’d normally use on a date, but this was important!

            Throughout the night Yuji had texted you a bit about his uncle, which was odd to you as he never talked about his family except for his late grandfather. Yuji had mentioned that his uncle for years was striking deals left and right, making extra money wherever he could until in the last two years he founded his company. He even mentioned that his uncle had paid for his private high school education after his grandfather had passed and is paying for his college, but only if he did some intern work once in awhile at the office and earned some of his own way with the coffee shop.

            You tried to ask for a picture of his uncle, just to see what he looked like. All Yuji replied with was, “You’ll know it’s him when you see him… trust me.”

            In the shower you scrubbed yourself clean, making sure there was nothing out of place. Scrubbing your hair and putting in the right amount of the conditioning mask you enjoy so much. Exfoliating your skin was necessary and shaving was part of your routine as the mask deeply conditioned your hair.

            Once you were all set and rinsed, you wrapped a towel around your hair and body and made your way back to your room. The closet was organized a certain way, the left half being your business attire while the right half was your casual wear. You decided on a nice black pencil skirt and dark pastel purple blouse, you have heard comments that the blouse brought out the color of your eyes very well and the skirt curved against your hips nicely.

            Getting ready was almost nerve-wracking. What if you didn’t land this job…? Where else could you go…? Maybe the coffee shop was a good option after all…

            The final outfit was a wonderful touch of professionalism. The pencil skirt was slightly above your knees, but you were wearing sheer tights, so you didn’t show much skin. Around your neck to accent your blouse was a dandelion-colored scarf, tied into the furoshiki style. A pair of black pumps would look excellent you decided as you looked over yourself in the mirror.

            Makeup has always been simple for you, light foundation with a hint of blush. Eyeshadow to match the blouse, the wonderful pastel purple, and the black eyeliner and mascara really made your eyes pop. Pink lipstick is what you went with, subtle and innocent, as you can’t be too bold like with red.

            You put your hair up in a nice, tight bun, letting the loose hairs frame your face in subtle curls. A touch of perfume on the nape of your neck, very light as it was Eau Fraiche to not trigger a migraine, with the subtle jasmine and cedar fragrance.

            By the time it was two, you were all ready to go. You decided to make your way out the door as you did rely on public transportation to get to where you needed to go for the most part. Taking the train to the business district of Tokyo was easy this time of day as many people were starting to get off work and be on their way home, so it was no issue finding a train and seat.

            As you looked at the address, you realized that the office was actually down the street from the coffee shop that Yuji and the others worked at. Which meant if you got the job, you could still visit them. It warmed your heart that you could still see them.

            As the train stopped at the station and you got onto the platform, you realized it was barely three, so you decided that with the extra time you had you would visit the shop. They did close at four as you knew that Megumi and Nobara had to get home, Yuji never specified where he went, but now you assumed it was to work a couple of hours as an intern at his uncle’s company.

            The bell chimed as you entered the coffee shop, Megumi wiping down tables as Nobara manned the counter. Both looked up and saw you and gave smiles.

            “OH MY GOSH!” Nobara squealed as she vaulted over the counter. “YOU LOOK AMAZING! YOU ARE GOING TO GET THE JOB ON THIS ALONE!”

            Megumi grimaced at the loudness of Nobara’s voice. “Hey, she still needs to do a proper interview… it’s not about looks…” he reminded her.

            You gave a sigh, “Yeah, and I’m totally nervous… I think I only got the job with your cousin because he kept staring at my chest for too long and forgot what it was even about…”

            Megumi gave a frown. “That asshole…” he grumbled.

            You looked around, noticing that you did not hear or see Yuji. “Hey, where’s Yuji at?” you asked.

            “At his uncle’s office building, it’s just down the street from here,” Nobara replied, crossing her arms. “He leaves around 2:30pm to go intern there for a few hours.”

            Your guess was correct. “What is his major in college anyways…?” you then asked. During the year you visited the coffee shop you had never asked, which made you feel a tad bit guilty. Yuji always asked you so many questions, as did Nobara, and even Megumi asked a question here and there, but you never asked them any.

            “Business,” both Megumi and Nobara replied in unison.

            “He’s got a scholarship at a decent university for athletics,” Megumi then added. “But he’s majoring in business to properly take over the coffee shop here and possibly franchise it.”

            “Oh, that’s nice,” you hummed. You had no idea about that with Yuji. The young man had such a bubbly personality that you never thought he’d be a business major in college. You then gave a smile. “Well, if I get this job, I can still come for my coffee…! Speaking of…”

            “GOT IT!” Nobara shouted as she vaulted over the counter once again.

            Megumi frowned. “You and Yuji need to stop doing that… you two are going to end up crashing into something one day…” he groaned in annoyance.

            “You’re just jealous that you don’t look cool doing it!” Nobara bragged, sticking her tongue out at him. Withing minutes she got your usual coffee order ready. “And it’s done, Y/N! Feel free to tip me for my awesome service!”

            You gave a laugh as you paid for the coffee and once again gave a decent tip. “Of course, Nobara, I wouldn’t dream of not giving you a tip,” you assured her.

            “My tip would be to stop vaulting over the damn counter…!” Megumi told you both.

            You checked your watch, realizing it was half an hour before your interview. You gave the two your goodbyes and made your way out of the shop. Sipping on your coffee as you walked down the street, already seeing a tall, glass building that was beginning to loom before you. The sign outside the building indicated that it was “Ryōmen Enterprises”, so you knew it was the right place.

            You took a deep breath, calming your nerves, and made your way inside, your pumps clicking against the polished floors. Inside there was a nice, muted gray, chairs and couches around the main floor for people to relax in before meetings or to meet with someone. The reception desk was directly ahead of the entrance, and you made your way there quickly.

            The person behind the desk was clicking on her keyboard, her hair long and dark brown. She wore a simple dark green turtleneck blouse with a white long sleeve sweater, her nails a nice teal in color. Her eyes, a nice brown oak, darted to you as she finished what she was doing.

            “Hello, how can I help you?” she then asked. You noted that there were bags under her eyes, and she had a small beauty mark on her right eye.

            “Hello, my name is Y/N L/N, I have an interview at-” you began but she interrupted you by picking up her phone.

            “Hey, Uraume?” the woman spoke. “Yeah, this is Shoko… that interview you mentioned is here.” A pause. “Yeah, I know she’s early…” Another pause and Shoko winced at a sudden bark on the other side of the line. “Yeah, I’ll send her up.” She hung up the phone.

            “Uh…” you tentatively murmured. “Is it bad that I’m early…?” you asked softly.

            “Not at all, hun,” Shoko replied as she prepared a guest badge. “Take this to the elevator and scan it to access the top floor.”

            You took the guest badge. “Thank you…” You walked to the elevator and pressed the button and waited for it to arrive.

            While waiting, someone stepped up beside you and you glanced over to see the most gorgeous blue eyes you have ever seen behind black sunglasses perched at the end of his nose. He was tall, clearly over six feet, with tousled snow-white hair. His tailored suit fitted him well, a black with light gray stripes and black dress shirt, a white tie to match his hair.

            “Would you like a picture?” the man asked teasingly with a grin. “They do last longer.” He then adjusted his glasses to cover his eyes, although he did peer over them to give you a glance over.

            “GAH!” you nearly yelped, nearly death gripping your coffee cup.

            “Although, if you get a picture of me, I would love one of you too,” he then added with a smirk.

            The elevator dinged and you entered, quickly scanning your badge, your heart sinking as you realized that the white-haired man entered with you. Now you two were stuck in an enclosed space together after that exchange.

            “Are you here for an internship…? Interview…?” the man then pressed. He scanned his own badge as well, but you couldn’t see what his name was on it.

            “I-Interview…” you stammered in reply.

            The man beamed. “Oh…? Nice! For what department?” he then inquired, clearly interested.

            Your eyes widened. “Um… I don’t know…?”

            “Huh…? What do you mean you don’t know?”

            “All I know is that I’m meeting Mr. Ryōmen for the interview.”

            The white-haired man sucked in air through his teeth. “WOW! The big boss huh? Damn!” he laughed.

            That certainly wasn’t helping your nerves.

            “What’s your name, sweets?” he then asked. “I’m Satoru Gojo, I’m the head of marketing here.”

            “I’m Y/N L/N,” you then introduced.

            “Hey, don’t be nervous, the man is all bark and no bite!” Gojo assured. “Well… at least to the employees here. He does bite I hear.” He then gave a teasing chuckle.

            “Eh…!?” you nearly shrieked.

            The elevator dinged on a floor and the doors opened, signaling for Gojo to exit. “See ya around, sweets, hopefully you get the job!” he shouted over his shoulder to you with a wave. “I’d love to give you a tour of the building!”

            You couldn’t reply as the doors closed and continued to ascend. With each second, you became much more nervous. The elevator dinged at the final floor, and you exited it, only to be greeted by a familiar pink-haired boy.

            “Hey! You made it, Y/N!” Yuji’s voice excitedly said. He was no longer in his coffee shop uniform but in his own tailored suit, a dark gray with a dark gray waistcoat, white dress shirt, and wearing an orange tie neatly tied around his neck. His pink hair was still messy and spikey as ever, although it did look like he tried to comb it through once or twice.

            “Yuji!” you beamed. “Why didn’t you ever mention you interned here?”

            Yuji nervously chuckled. “Eh, my personal life isn’t very exciting…” he joked. “Here, let me get you to Uraume so you can check in.” He grabbed your hand and dragged you away from the elevator.

            It seemed the entire floor was a penthouse office space, where there were a few desks, one that Yuji sat at for his intern work, and the other sat someone with a white bob haircut and wore a nice navy-blue pantsuit. In the back was a main inner office, the placard reading “S. Ryōmen”.

As you and Yuji approached the secretary’s desk, they were just hanging up the phone. Their plum-colored eyes saw you coming and they stood up from their desk to walk around.

            “Hello, Miss Y/N,” they greeted, their voice sounding monotone. “I’m Uraume, Mr. Ryomen’s secretary. I’ll let him know that you’re here.”

            You gave a look of confusion. This person was not who you talked to yesterday or today.

            Yuji noticed your face. “You okay?” he asked gently.

            “Uh… yeah,” you lied. “Just nervous.”

            Yuji gave a smile. “You’ll do great! I already hyped you up and everything!” he informed.

            “You… what!?” you nearly shrieked at him. “Hype me up!? What does that even mean!?” You began to shake his shoulders frantically, trying to shake the answers from him.

            Yuji’s eyes were practically rolling, but he still tried to speak. “A-All I did was t-tell him you were fired b-by Naoya Zen’in and that you were a g-good worker…!”

            Uraume returned, a white brow raised. “Mr. Itadori, what did you do to anger the young lady…?” they asked him.

            “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING BAD!” Yuji shouted once you let him go.

            Uraume only sighed in irritation. “Anyways, he is ready to meet you now,” they informed you. They then glared at Yuji. “And Mr. Itadori, may I remind you that you’re supposed to be entering data…?”

            “I got bored…” he then whined.

            “Do it brat, if you know what’s good for ya!” a voice barked from the inner main office. Even with the door closed, you could hear how powerful it was.

            What you now also realized was that it was the same voice you spoke with the night before and earlier that day. Your face immediately went red.

            You must’ve sounded like an idiot on the phone.

            “Yeah, fine, fine…!” Yuji shouted back. “My friend is here, so you be nice to her!” He patted your shoulder. “Good luck, Y/N. He’s not always that loud… He just likes to yell at me. Or Gojo.”

            Uraume led you to the door and knocked on it, a low “enter” rumbled in reply. The secretary opened the door and gave a small bow in greeting.

            “Mr. Ryōmen, here is Miss L/N for the interview,” Uraume informed. “Please let me know if you need anything else.” They promptly shoved you in and shut the door behind you.

            When Yuji said that you’d know his uncle when you saw him, he wasn’t kidding. The man had the same pink hair, sharp jawline and nose shape. The main difference was that the man before you had intricate face tattoos decorating his face and his eyes were sharp and fierce; instead of a warm honey-brown in color, they looked like they were brown mixed with red, an odd dark dried blood color with more on the red side. He was also larger in stature, much broader shouldered and muscular, his body filling every part of his expensive black suit perfectly.

            “You may have a seat,” Mr. Ryōmen instructed, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk.

            You obey instinctively, like a small animal in front of a hunter. You set your resume on the desk in front of you for him to look through and you politely put your hands in your lap.

            “You’re friends with the brat, eh?” the man grumbled as he adjusted his blood red tie he was wearing. “I don’t think I recognize you from when he went to high school… Or are you a friend from one of his college classes from last semester?”

            “Oh, I met him through the coffee shop,” you replied honestly. “I just happened to stumble across it when walking to my old job.”

            “Hmm,” he hummed in response. “The Zen’in’s small office, right? Ran by Naoya Zen’in?” Mr. Ryōmen then grabbed your resume and began to flip through it.

            “Yes sir, I was Mr. Zen’in’s personal assistant,” you informed.

            “And may I ask why you were fired?”

            “Um… well…” You began to nervously wring your hands together. “I’m going to say this… Mr. Zen’in was not very professional. He constantly tries to get with every female worker he has, and on more than one occasion he has tried to make a pass at me.”

            Mr. Ryōmen raised a brow. “So, he fired you because you wouldn’t fuck him?” he guessed quite crudely. “Wow, that’s petty… Then again that’s the only way he could get women to sleep with him. Money and intimidation.”

            “And I threw my coffee in his face…” you then admitted shyly.

            A ghost of a smirk flashed on his lips. “Wow, no wonder why a weird blacklist email came in my inbox last night,” he said. “I honestly would’ve done worse.” He tossed your resume on the desk. “Alright, you’re hired.”

            “Huh…?” you dumbly said.

            “Do I need to repeat myself?” the man sternly asked. “I said, ‘you’re hired’. You want it in morse code too?” He began to tap his desk in an odd sequence. “Honestly I have no idea what code that could be, for all I know that could be me saying I stole your penguin or something…”

            You tilted your head in confusion. “But… you didn’t ask me typical interview questions…?” you prompted. “Like about my work ethic, or why I would want to work here…?”

            “I don’t do interviews,” he admitted with a shrug. “Usually Nanami in finance does it, but I wanted to do this one myself since the brat was eager.”

            You still looked at him in confusion.

            “And I’m not gonna lie,” Mr. Ryōmen said with a sigh as he straightened in his chair, placing his hands in front of him on his desk; you noticed he had tattoos on them as well. “I just want you in my company to rub it in that asshole’s face. I ended up not doing that deal with them as well after what the brat said.”

            You knew that it was going to cost Zen’in big. Ryōmen Enterprises was sweeping the market in businesses and restaurants alike. You heard that the CEO was a smooth talker and could strike deals like it was talking about what color to paint walls over a Sunday brunch.

            “So, what department would I be in?” you then inquired.

            “I’ll have you as my personal assistant,” he then said. “Uraume takes care of certain paperwork as my secretary and arranges business meetings within the company, but I would need someone to help with outside the company, and you seem to be good at it.” He picked up your resume. “From what I glanced over, you were actually the contact with Zen’in for the deal.”

            “Yes, I was.”

            “So, you have a knack for arranging things and eye on good partnerships.”

            “I’m flattered you think so.”

            “You can also help me with running around between the departments, making sure things are running smoothly,” Mr. Ryōmen added. “I usually have the brat check up on things, but since he has the coffee shop and will be going back to school soon, his time will be limited.”

            You nodded in understanding. “Okay, I can do that,” you assured him. It didn’t sound too different to what Naoya had you do.

            A smirk crossed the man’s face. “Alright, you can start tomorrow, I’ll have the company attorney draft a contract with everything and in the morning, you can go over it and make sure it’s to your liking. We can add or remove things as well,” he then said.

            You blinked. “Oh, okay…” you replied in surprise.

            “And about your salary, don’t worry about it,” Mr. Ryōmen assured as he leaned back in his chair. “It’ll be on par if not more than what you did at Zen’in’s.” He then leaned back forward and scribbled a number on a sticky note and passed it to you.

            Your eyes practically bugged out of your head. “I-I’m sorry… is this a monthly salary…?” you asked him.

            Mr. Ryomen looked at you in confusion. “Um… no, sweetheart, that would be your biweekly salary…”

            “Oh…” you squeaked. It was nearly double your monthly what you were making when you were working for Naoya.

            “Is that a problem…?” he asked seriously. “Too little to what you’re used to…?”

            “No!” you blurted out loudly. “This is more than generous! I accept the position!”            

A wolf-like smile appeared on your new boss’s lips. “Well, welcome aboard to Ryōmen Enterprises, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll make a lovely addition.”

Special thanks to my Ko-fi supporters!

Basic Tier

Aostrele

Draconic Hermit

JadEDU

Jaune Arc

Zippy

Middle Tier

@genderfluidsgetguns AKA IdoInFactLikeDogs