#not tagging gojo but he is there in spirit

[eternally-tired-muffin]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @astrowaffles!!!!

Here is my contribution for astronomical fluff week!! I'm very proud of myself for figuring out how to do titles and colours on tumblr haha (and for being on time!! Who'd have thought?)

I think we all need some ✨shapes and colours✨ and ♡fluff♡ in these trying times ;-;

(Ref by mellon_soup here)

they are eepy sleepy and gojo is ruthlessly taking advantage (taking cute photos) :P

Happy birthday again!! I hope you have a splendid year m'dear <3

[specialgrades]

— thinking about . . .

men who swear up and down they’re not into you— or men for that matter. men who flirt with women as often as they can. men who drink a little too much during a night out and start grinding against you in the dimly lit club you’re in. men who’s legs feel like jelly and skin feels hot as you guide their hips against yours. men who turn to putty as you drag them outside. men who forget every bit of elegance when they’re pinned against the wall. men who weakly beg for you to fuck them right there in the decrepit alleyway. men who wake up the next morning barely being able to walk and can’t look you in the eye now. men who sport dark hickeys and bite marks from you as they attempt to flirt with another girl to distract from how good you made them feel the night prior.

VINSMOKE SANJI, spirit albarn, ryusei shido, satoru gojo, michael kaiser, josuke higashikata, warren worthington iii

[gothsuguru]

KAIRO . YOUR FUCKING WIPS GOOD GOD 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 ohhhhh narrowing them down was so tough but …… i neeeeeed to know more (read: all) about i hope i don’t murder me; i hope i don’t burden you + you should let me ride shotgun + belladonna ……. (THERAPIST!JAKU. need them to corrupt me . who said that)

(alsooooo i love you <3 hope you eat a big nice tasty breakfast with your fav beverage to boot :333)

ARI MY PRECIOUS ANGELMOUSE <333 TYSM FOR THE ASK AND ALSO MFNDNDND the way i KNEW you would ask about therapist dilfjaku 🤭 that one is a arikenkairo special for REAL <333 at least in theory :3

i hope i don’t murder me; i hope i don’t burden you:

THIS IS THE PROFESSOR!GETO X HEAVENLY RESTRICTED!READER ONE HEHE i’m so excited to resume writing this omfg… the title is based off a lyric from “the beach” by the neighbourhood <3 i’m genuinely very intrigued to explore a version of suguru that hasn’t defected but that’s still so… filled w guilt & shame & anger? like in the beginning of the fic it’ll be them all as high schoolers and then it’ll be them as adults and i’m so excited to show the dichotomy of suguru — the stark similarities/differences between young & older geto!

i haven’t really decided yet how it would be when the two meet at jjk high………. i think in general it’s very bittersweet like suguru is hit w freight train of nostalgia and also… just overwhelming shame. and then ofc reader may feign a casual façade but i think they feel so hurt and also responsible for suguru leaving? even though it’s not their fault? idk i’m just interested in exploring that relationship and how suguru’s past actions would inform their future!

you should let me ride shotgun:

RAHHHHHH THIS ONE IS SO FUN AND SILLY IN MY BRAIN :3 a mix of a crackfic and fluff and action but also oddly bittersweet? rich bratty gojo will always be a beloved of mine and i think him annoying his new bodyguard is so fun to think abt… everyone has always left the gojo’s bc their son is just soooooo . bratty and disrespectful and loud and always pushes people’s buttons for his own enjoyment! that is… until he meets READER… who’s just soooooo amused. their vibe is like a constantly amused kenjaku <3 fond, finds him a lil pathetic but he’s cute so he gets a pass, and more than anything i wanna make sure the bodyguard isn’t too serious 😭 need them to be an enabler so bad hehe

(also v excited to explore the bittersweetness of it all too… gojo pushing others away before they can leave him……….. DELICIOUS)

belladonna:

this one is so 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 dilfjaku with a tight black turtleneck, reading glasses, one leg swung over the other as he rests his temple on his fingers………. gulps. need him to look at me like i’m his prey bc he wants to eat me WHO SAID THAT……… ANYWAYS! this is actually gonna be a smut fic so i will try my hardest to make it sensual and fucked up <3 i don’t know yet if i want reader to be his patient or if he’s just a dilf w a therapist occupation and reader comes by as his intern…… office siren!kenjaku perhaps…….. idk………… need both of us to be sent to HR is all i’m gonna say <333 belladonna is another word for “deadly nightshade” (also a name for this fic that i’m waffling on either one lmk which is better bestie 🙂‍↕️) and i think it works so well for kenjaku… need him to corrupt and manipulate reader but lil does he know they love it <3

i haven’t thought out reader’s personality or anything yet i just know they’re down horrendous and their life goal is to look up at kenjaku while resting their head on his lap………. (also kenny’s life goal… he wants to pat their head and have them look up at him soooooo baddddd) ANYWAYS I’M SO EXCITED TO WRITE THESE FICS HEHE TYSM FOR ASKING ABT THEM ARI :3 MWAH

[zukkaoru]

🐠may we stay lost on our way home🐠

“Do you remember,” Megumi asks, “when Gojo-san told us love is a curse?” Tsumiki hums in affirmation. “I told him that was stupid, because love is good, and good things don’t hurt people like curses do.” She looks over at Megumi, their gazes finally meeting. “But you’ve always agreed with him.” Of course Megumi agreed with him. He spent more time with Gojo than Tsumiki did, and he saw the scars love left on his soul. He met countless sorcerers in a perpetual state of mourning for the classmates and colleagues they’d lost. He lost Tsumiki once and vowed to destroy the world if it meant getting her back; then he lost Tsumiki a second time and consequently destroyed himself.

with both of their bodies overtaken, megumi and tsumiki find themselves in the same place, awaiting the end.

🐠 4.6k words || megumi & tsumiki 🐠 written for day 3 of @jjkgenweek: aquarium

[prettyboykatsuki]

chewtoy | s. gojo

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, noncon, humiliation, abuse of power / power imbalance, master / servant relationship, titles like master satoru, he's being Really Fucking Weird (sniffs u a bunch...rip), oral(f!receiving) 18+

✮ wc ; 2k (????)

✮ a/n ; horrible horrible man. can he leave me alone. extension of this

"The young Master is calling for you."

You try not to flinch. Aiko gives you a warm, summery smile and a soft nudge to your side. You can only assume this means you've succeeded and she doesn't sense your disgust.

"He's so fond of you," She ends her sentence with a wispy sigh. "Must be nice to have a rich, powerful man fawn over you a bit, right?"

You remain indifferent. She smiles again. You think she is infinitely more beautiful than you. Soft, bouncy hair and smooth skin. Her naive nature makes her shine brighter than one thousand suns. It'd be nice if the young Master showed interest in someone like her.

You put the dream to rest quickly.

"You shouldn't keep him waiting," She hums. It's so innocent. "Go on, don't let me keep you."

You don't tell her you wish she would keep you. She is also right that you should not keep him waiting. If he's summoned you to his chambers deliberately, that means he is already feeling impatient. Master Satoru never seeks you out unless he is in some kind of mood.

He's had this habit since childhood. You've never made him aware of it, and you don't plan too. One of the few things you help you know what to expect from him.

You nod her along, tell her to finish up work in the living quarters to which she agrees merrily. Her spirits are lifted by the prospect of the young Master showing you fondness. Some part of you wishes you could share in her joy.

A pit of dread makes your steps heavy, but your footfall is light and beautiful. You are poised and cool as you walk along the dark, dreary hallways that lead to the Master's office.

A door swallowed in shadow, a single light shining on the golden plaque with the young Master's full name. You knock twice, announcing yourself.

"You're here," He says. You try not to flinch. You're certain you do not succeed. You are thankful he cannot see you - or you hope he can't. "Come in,"

You open the door and step inside to his office - shutting the door behind you. Muscle memory guides you to your curtsy. You bow politely.

"Yes, Master?"

"So stuffy," His voice makes your chest feel tight with discomfort. Frustration ebbs underneath it, cuts like a jagged edged knife. "At least call me, Satoru. Our relationship is much better than that, I thought."

"I could never be so informal to the young Master," You say, and then concede. "But I will call you Master Satoru, if you wish."

"How obstinate," He drawls. You do not life your head to see the face he makes. You already know what it looks like. It's burned into your mind. "But I suppose I'll make do. Lift your head."

You lift your head, but do not look at his face.

"Come closer,"

You step towards him, your lungs pushing air out of you manually. Remembering to breathe evenly is a herculean task. He beckons you closer until you're within distance of his touch.

He glances at you. "Look at me."

You try not to hesitate and force your eyes forward. His eyes undress you. Pointed gaze falls along your features, outlines your every inch, and analyzes your face. You remain even. He hums.

His frivolity is missing. This is suddenly more frightening. His mood is worse than you thought.

"Lift your skirt,"

Your muscles tense as you try not to shake. You succeed. He lets out a soft breath before he drops down onto his knees. You do not let yourself make any sort of expression, averting your gaze. He stares long and hard at your clothed pussy.

You tremble. He assess you silently, eyes flitting up.

"Sit in my chair with your skirt over your waist. So I can see you properly and all."

You listen to his instructions mindlessly. The velvet of his chair and warmth of his remaining body heat touch your bare ass and thighs. Satoru turns to you, still on knees. His hand wraps around your ankles and slips your shoes off of you.

You close your eyes. Sudden intimacy makes you slink back.

"Look at me."

It is is a command. You let your gaze fall on him again and watch on in excruciating nausea. Your stomach twists violently at the fragility of it all. Slender fingers hook into your knee socks and pull them down along your calve until they're off. His gaze catches yours. He does not smile at you. His hand comes around your ankle again and lifts your leg closer to his face. His nose presses against the bend of your foot.

He inhales. You try not to react but you can feel your eyes go wide. Feel your muscles clench, your heart sinking. Iron fills your mouth.

He lets his nose nudge up against the top of your calf.

"Young Master,"

He stares at you. Irritation flits through his gaze. There's no getting out of this, no mercy. You slink back again. He does smile that time.

Your body prickles with unwanted heat at the sensation. He licks along your legs, biting the supple skin - huffing the scent of your sweat every time he goes along. His teeth sink perversely into your flesh, sucking until there's throbbing, marks against your calves. The color of an orchid, purple and red. Fear strikes in you like a match. His grip on your ankles moves to the back of your calves and squeezes tight. He repeats the process on both calves intently.

There's claim to this. You know this part of him. He is claiming you with vicious confidence. Something with deeper magnitude then lust. For you, he is desire and ownership and want incarnat. A testament of his own beliefs. You willfully do no make noise aside from a gasp or breath.

You don't know how long it takes until he's satisfied with the state both legs.

He moves up. Bites the soft flesh of your thigh. You nearly spit out another useless plea. Shamelessness makes up his every move. His tongue slides over every single inch of your bare skin until his noses brushes along your cunt.

He doesn't lick you there. Not right away. Again he sniffs, breathes you in deep and uncomfortable. It's violating in all senses of the word, his grip tightening on your thighs as he huffs your scent. You haven't bathed. You've practically been running around since morning, but he doesn't let up and breathes you in anyway.

You squirm at that point. Your face contorts so slightly and he's watching you for it. His face finally cracks a smile and abject dread makes your spine lock up.

"Mm," He emphasizes the sound. It's so loud in such a quiet room. "That's it."

You don't have the strength to say anything.

It's frighteningly abrupt and rough, the feeling of his mouth along your pussy. He sucks at your clit from outside the fabric and you gasp - suddenly helpless. It's not the first time, of course not. But it's never this... random. Never this rough.

Your back arches at the sudden motion, face breaking - and Satoru grips you tighter and forces you back into the chair. Forces his tongue against your clit and sucks hard through the cotton material. Your body betrays you in its reaction - nipples pebbling underneath your clothes. Nearly screaming from the sensitivity. Your lower body is all ache - hickeys and bruises and bite marks making you throb perpetually. Too much, too much, too much.

Shame floods your system as the first spike of arousal forces itself from you - your cunt floods, gushing with a sudden spike of want from rough treatment. The sound of him sucking you so hard and drenching it with his saliva echoes across the room. You're sure it's traveling into the hall.

"Master Satoru," Your voice is even but it cracks on his name. Tears form at the corners of your eyes - fear and shame mixing into desperation. "Satoru,"

He hums into your pussy and you shake. "What is it? What wish would you like your master to fulfill for you.

"Please," Your voice is hoarse. Bone-deep exhaustion is out done by adrenaline. "Not through the fabric, please. It's dirty."

He sucks again and you keen - nails digging into your palms as you throw your head back.

"Your Masters spit soaking your panties is dirty? How rude." He teases. The whimper leaves your mouth without permission. You wish this would end soon but even amidst your fog you know that is not more than a pipe dream.

He takes them off. Rolls them down your thighs all wet and drops them. You let out a sigh of relief before his nose bridges touches your clit again. Swallowing the sound, you look away.

"It's soaked," He says conversationally, "Your needy little cunt is making a mess of your Master's chair. Tsk, tsk - so shameful."

"I'm sorry," You croak, unsure of what else to say. "I'll clean it."

He laughs, seemingly alleviated from his prior upset at the state of your humiliation.

"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job," He rests his hand over the mound of your sex - using pointer and thumb to spread your lips apart and get view of your swollen little clit. He breathes on it. "But you're still begging me for my attention down here. Filthy pussy for such a meticulous maid. Do you know how wet you are? Did you miss me so much?"

You don't answer him. He goes on.

"I thought of you all week," His voice is soft. Tinged with affection, or something like it. "Ahh, dealing with higher ups is such a pain."

You stare at him. He looks back at you with a smile. You flinch. You flinch certainly. "But I can always take it out on you, can't I? This perfect, filthy, needy cunt. It'll only every belong to me and I get to use it to my hearts content. I thought of that suddenly then called you."

It's not just your cunt he's interested in. That'd be relieving if that were the case. If he only ever used you to vent his sexual frustrations, treat you like a personal cocksleeve. You think it might be better that way.

He's too fond of you for that.

The young Master treats you like a chew toy instead. He bites, licks, slobbers, and misuses you. He might hump you to chase his high from time to time, might throw you around for rough sex should the mood suit him. But he's not a clueless oaf, some classless barbarian who only feels pleasure from his cock.

His violation is something else. It's deeper in scent, richer in taste. It is born from his greatness.

He's smart enough to know exploitation and that's what gets him off most. He exploits you. Exploits your reactive body, exploits your stoicism, exploits your dedication to your duty. You're his chew toy because you are designed to be unbreakable. You are indestructible.

But you have the perfect amount of give. You flinch, sigh, and whimper enough to make your Master thrilled. You squeak and moan like you're heat addled when he plays with you enough.

To Satoru, you're the most perfect thing to ever grace his life. His favorite toy that he's bitten at since he was just a boy and grew so fond of.

No matter how much you end up in tatters, Satoru can't help but love you with all of his heart.

You get exhausted being thrown around. But you can't go anywhere, either. He's so watchful of you. He might go crazy and bite if you were to disappear.

"Cum for me," He says, sucking on your clit much more softly. He's gentle but exact. Knows the ins and outs of your body enough to send you racing towards the edge with an unimaginable speed. You gasp and shudder, holding onto his chair for your life as an orgasm shoots through like lightning through a telephone wire.

You cum. You cum hard, bruised and mind-broken and nauseous and you cum so hard something spurts out of you and makes the chair wet. The young Master is nonplussed of course, and laps it up like a dog drinking water.

"Ahh, much better." He's pleased as he stands up and then bends down to your height. His hand cradles the back of your neck with a pleasant sigh as he forces a cum-soaked kiss onto your mouth. "Just as I thought, you were just what I needed."

Utterly defeated, you pull away with a gasp. "...I'm happy to serve you, Master Satoru."

"Such a nice sentence from your mouth, true or not." He gives you one more kiss, to the crown of your head. Too tender, too raw. "Prepare yourself to service me a bit more, then."

[gojoluvs]

Break free

Minors do not interact.

Summary; Apparently, he's one of the hottest hockey players in the country, and you had just agreed to be his fake girlfriend. Satoru Gojo is hard not to notice. With his coy smirk and rock-hard abs, he's the cockiest of all the jocks.

Tags; satoru gojo x reader, hockey player au, figure skater x hockey player, college au, roommates au.

Warnings; 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, partying, drinking/alcohol, weed usage, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, enemies to lovers, cheating.

Notes; Taglist is open!! also this chapter is so short compared to my other fics since i rewrote this like 7 times and this was the one I liked the most..

3.5k words

masterlist! ⤏ next chapter

The sound of ice being scraped by the skates of the hockey players filled your ears, making you cringe at the unpleasant noise.

Crossing your arms, you watched as they skillfully passed the puck to each other, determined not to let the opposing team take control.

You hated hockey, and it wasn't just because of the sport itself. It was the type of men who played it - cocky, entitled, and overly aggressive. Every time you came to the rink after their practice, you would find the ice in terrible condition, thanks to the rough way they played.

The University of Tokyo was notorious for its hockey team, and not in a good way. The players were known for their douchey attitudes and their reputation as "fuck boys." As you watched them play, you couldn't help but notice their ridiculously attractive appearances. It was almost as if the only requirement to join the team was to be a 6-foot-tall, handsome guy. Despite their looks, you couldn't stand them.

You sat next to your friend in the cold arena, her eyes glued to the fast-paced hockey game unfolding in front of you. She munched on her popcorn, a smile spread on her face as she yelled your friend's name, "Go Yuji!!" You couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm, even though you weren't a fan of hockey yourself. Suddenly, she exclaimed and started choking on her popcorn, causing you to quickly pat her back and make sure she was okay.

As you looked back at the game, your eyes narrowed at one of the hockey boys who had stopped full speed and scraped the ice so badly it made you cringe. This was one of the reasons why you hated coming to these games - the roughness of the players and the damage they caused to the ice rink. The poor ice rink didn't deserve such treatment. Wondering what the ice rink did to deserve this.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of annoyance as the game went on, the constant yelling and cheering from the crowd only adding to the chaos.

The fans roared with excitement as one of the Hockey boys received the puck, deftly dribbling past the defender with ease. As he stopped momentarily, a wide smile spread across his face before he swiftly went left, skillfully dodging the goalie and scoring a goal for his team.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the score changed from 1-2 to 1-3, with Nobara screaming and spilling her popcorn in excitement. She saw Yuji skate towards her, a grin on his face. "Next one's for you, Kugisaki!" he shouted, before skating back to his original position.

As the team huddled up before getting off the ice rink, you couldn't help but feel bored. Hockey was never your cup of tea, despite your father being a huge fan and dragging you to countless games as a child. But as you watched the boys high-five and congratulate each other, you couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie and team spirit in the air.

The energy in the stadium was infectious, and even though you weren't a fan of the sport, you couldn't deny the sense of excitement and unity that filled the air. As the second half began, you settled back into your seat.

Nobara looked at you with a small smirk on her lips as you both sat in the stands, watching the hockey game below. The arena was buzzing with excitement as the home team took on their rivals.

Nobara noticed your gaze and nudged you, "So Y/N, what about that one?" She pointed towards a tall blonde man, his hair disheveled and stuck to his forehead from the sweat buildup on his helmet. As he lifted his jersey to wipe his forehead, the "puck bunnies" in the stands went wild at the sight of his chiseled abs.

You shrugged and replied, "No thanks, not looking right now." You grabbed your bag and took out your phone, snapping some pictures of the action on the ice.

Nobara pouted and scooched closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and shaking it. "Don't be like that, Y/N. You have to get over Toji soon." She was referring to your recent breakup with your long-term boyfriend, who happened to be a hockey player on this very team.

You sighed and leaned your head against Nobara's shoulder, taking in the energy of the game and the cheers from the crowd. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for the excitement and passion that came with being in a relationship with someone like Toji.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia as you watched Toji, the man who you used to love before he cheated on you with some random sorority chick, interact with his teammates. You remembered how much you used to admire his skills on the ice and how he always seemed to effortlessly lead his team to victory. But as you watched him now, you couldn't help but feel a sense of bitterness towards him. You were still hurt by the way he had treated you, but at the same time, you couldn't deny the fact that he had genuinely treated you well at some point.

As you continued to watch him, you couldn't help but wonder how things would have turned out if he hadn't cheated on you. Maybe you would still be together, cheering him on from the stands. But now, you were just another face in the crowd, trying to hide your emotions as you watched your ex move on with his life.

Kugisaki, your best friend, noticed your gaze and followed it to Toji. She let out a sigh, knowing all too well about your past with him. But she didn't say anything, just letting you take a moment to yourself.

Toji Zenin, a living legend in Utokyo. He was the captain of the hockey team before being demoted due to the fact that he was the reason why the ice rink was broken during your freshman year. He may have been just a year older than you, but he seemed so mature and confident on the ice. That was one of the reasons why you had fallen for him in the first place. But now, as you watched him interact with his teammates, you couldn't help but see him in a different light. He was just another guy, no longer the perfect image you had created in your mind. And although it hurt, you knew it was time to move on and let go of the past.

You remember the day you met him like it was yesterday, sneaking into the ice rink to practice late at night. You were startled when he caught you, but instead of getting angry or telling on you, he just teased you and then let you go. He was the man who showed you what love was, and you were grateful for his presence in your life.

He was the reason you continued your skating career, the one who motivated you to finish tryouts even when you wanted to give up. And now, as you looked at your calendar and saw the upcoming final, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. Just 20 more minutes until the game was over, and you could finally go home and take your mind off of everything. But for now, you couldn't tear your eyes away from the man who had once meant everything to you, and still held a special place in your heart.

You were supposed to be studying for your midterm in sports medicine, but here you are, stuck at a hockey game. The players were fiercely competing, their skates gliding across the ice as they chased after the puck. The sound of sticks hitting the ice echoed through the arena, and the cheers of the crowd filled the air. Suddenly, the referee blew his whistle and signaled a roughing penalty, causing the crowd to boo in disagreement. You couldn't help but feel annoyed at the interruption, wishing you were back at home studying instead.

But you knew you couldn't just get up and leave without your friend Nobara dragging you back in. Sighing, you resigned yourself to staying for the rest of the game, trying your best to enjoy it despite the looming thought of your midterm.

One of the players had gotten up from the ice and was now furiously cussing out the referee. His white hair stuck out in all directions, his angry words audible through the mic attached to his helmet. You knew instantly who it was - Satoru Gojo, the star of the hockey team and the most popular guy on campus. Girls flocked to him like "puck bunnies," as they called it in hockey slang. But to you, he was just the man you absolutely despised.

Growing up, you had always been in the same social circles because your parents were close friends. Your father and Satoru's both shared a love for hockey, so you were constantly in the same presence as him. And it seemed like he was good at everything he did - sports, academics, socializing. It was infuriating. As you watched him being escorted to the penalty box, a scowl immediately replaced the look on your face. Satoru Gojo was the last person you wanted to see.

The enemy hockey team slammed into the glass, right where you were sitting, causing it to shake. The sound of their bodies colliding with the glass was loud and jarring. Nobara, who was sitting next to you, looked both amused and thrilled by the intense action happening on the ice. One of the players fell to the ground, but he quickly got back up and flashed a smile at Nobara before returning to the game.

You couldn't help but notice her blushing and giggled at her reaction. "I'm definitely coming to their next game if this is my view," she said, fixing her hair and staring back at the player.

The game continued, the energy in the arena was palpable. The coaches and fans were yelling and cheering, urging the Utokyo team on as they made their way back to the goal. You could feel the intensity building as the clock ticked down to the final seconds. And then, with a swift and powerful shot, the Utokyo team scored another goal, solidifying their victory with a final score of 4-1.

The iconic music of the game began to play, the Utokyo hockey team skated onto the ice, their sharp blades slicing through the smooth surface with ease. Each player had a look of fierce determination on their face, and you could feel the excitement building in the air. As they reached the center of the rink, they gracefully removed their helmets, revealing their sweaty, yet glowing faces.

The girls in the audience erupted into screams and cheers, their excitement and admiration for the team palpable. You couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline as you watched the team prepare for the game ahead. Their strong and confident presence was enough to make you believe that they were the best hockey team in the world.

Grabbing your things, you followed Nobara to the front of the gymnasium where everyone was eagerly waiting for the hockey teams to come out. Tapping your foot impatiently, you scanned the crowded room, trying to find your ex among the sea of faces. "When is Yuji coming?" you asked, crossing your arms in frustration.

Nobara rolled her eyes before interlocking arms with you. "He's coming soon, now help me look for that hot hockey player we saw earlier," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Just then, the Kyoto boys walked in, some of them looking dejected and others trying to hide their disappointment after being defeated.

But your attention was immediately drawn to the tall, handsome guy who walked in, laughing at some joke his friend had said. He had a confident stride and a charming smile that caught everyone's attention. Your eyes widened as you realized it was the same guy Nobara had been drooling over earlier. And it seemed like she wasn't the only one, as you saw several girls in the crowd blushing and giggling.

As he made his way towards the group of girls, your heart raced in anticipation. You could see Nobara practically melting as he locked eyes with her and walked up to her. They both looked nervous, fidgeting with whatever they could find in their hands. But before you could even process what was happening, he left with her number and an invitation to one of the parties she was throwing later that weekend.

You were tired and hungry, and all you wanted to do was go home and rest. But you knew how much Yuji loved playing hockey and how important it was to him, so you waited patiently.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Yuji emerged from the locker room with a huge grin on his face. His hair was a mess and he was drenched in sweat, but he looked incredibly happy. He immediately ran over to you and gave you a tight hug, causing you to wrinkle your nose at his sweaty smell.

"You reek of sweat," you said, playfully pushing him away before he could hug your friend Nobara.

"Nice to see you too, Y/N," Yuji replied with a chuckle, his light brown eyes sparkling with mischief. You couldn't help but smile at him. He was like a little brother to you, and you were proud of him for pursuing his passion for hockey.

Ruffling his hair, you couldn't help but praise him for his performance on the ice. "I saw your shot, good job," you said, a genuine smile on your face. Yuji beamed with pride, and you knew that your words meant a lot to him. Despite the fatigue and hunger you were feeling, seeing Yuji's happiness made it all worth it.

His eyes glistened with excitement and his cheeks flushed with a rosy tint as he listened to you compliment him. You couldn't help but giggle at his reaction, finding it endearing and cute. But before you could say anything else, your attention was caught by a certain someone sprinting towards you, looking like he was silently cursing to himself. It was your neighbor , and he seemed to be in a rush.

He came close to you and let out a sigh of relief as he reached you. "I'm stealing her real quick," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow in confusion, but before you could question him, he grabbed your body and pulled you close. Leaning his arm against your body, he whispered into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Just go along with it, okay?" he said, propping back up with a smirk on his face.

You turned to look at the white-haired male, opening your mouth to say something before being interrupted by the sound of his mother's voice. She let out a loud squeal once she saw the two of you, quickly hitting her husband's arm before coming close to you with a warm smile on her face. "I always knew you two would end up together," she exclaimed, causing you to blush and your friend to avoid your gaze because he knew you would be furious with him for this stunt.

"Y/N, I'm so glad! I've always wanted another girl in my family, besides my baby girl now," she said with a bright smile as her husband propped up Satoru's baby sister. You couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight of the 4-year-old girl with her white hair tied into two small ponytails and her face covered in chocolate.

"I'm glad to be a part of the family," you replied, placing your hand on the back of Satoru before pinching his back, making him wince. "I'm going to invite your family to dinner tomorrow! We haven't had a get-together in years... We definitely have a reason to have one now." She covered her mouth before giggling, and you couldn't help but feel a slight sense of dread at the mention of your family coming over for dinner.

Excusing herself, his mom walked away with her husband and child, leaving you and Satoru alone. You could feel the anger radiating off of you as you stared at him, if looks could kill, Satoru would have been dead long ago.

"You told your parents we were together...?" you asked, your voice dripping with disbelief and rage. Satoru's face fell, knowing he had made a grave mistake. He tried to explain himself, but you cut him off with a smack to the head.

"You're kidding me, right?" you scoffed, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow at him. He looked like a child being scolded by his parents, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at that.

"Uh, about that," Satoru started, a sheepish smile on his face as he scratched his head. Before he could say anything else, you stormed away, pushing open the gymnasium doors and striding towards the parking lot.

This is dangerous. So fucking dangerous, playing this game with you. You know that getting involved with someone like Satoru is a recipe for disaster. He's charming and confident, but you've seen the way he treats women. He'll use them for his own amusement and then discard them without a second thought.

“What if I pay you to date me?” He asks with a mischievous glint in his eye, watching as you stomp towards the parking lot, completely ignoring his request.

“No,” you say firmly, not even turning to look at him.

“But I got plenty,” he says, following close behind you.

“Don't care,” you reply, your tone laced with annoyance.

“All right, so it’s obvious you’re not interested in money,” he muses, as if you haven't spoken. “Has to be something else then.” He pauses for a moment, deep in thought. “Booze? Weed?” he suggests, trying to find something that might interest you.

“No, and no, and get lost,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He continues to follow you as you walk towards your car, his footsteps matching yours on the sidewalk. “Okay then. I guess you’re not into party favors,” he teases, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"How about a date?" he offers, leaning against the doorway of your car.

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the smug look on his face. "Why would I want to go out with you, the most arrogant and obnoxious guy on campus?"

"Because I'm charming, handsome, and irresistible," he grins, winking at you.

You scoff, not buying his ridiculous act. "Yeah, keep dreaming, Mr. Hotshot Hockey Player."

He laughs, clearly enjoying your banter. "Come on, just one date. I promise to behave."

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. "No way. I have better things to do with my time."

"Like what? Study?" he teases, raising an eyebrow.

"At least I have priorities," you retort, trying to hide the hint of a smile on your face.

"Fine, be that way. But just know, everyone wants to go out with me," he says cockily, flashing you a dazzling smile.

You can't help but laugh at his confidence. "Just out of curiosity, after you wake up in the morning, do you admire yourself in the mirror for one hour or more?”

"Two," he replies without hesitation, causing you to burst out laughing.

"Do you high five yourself and talk yourself up?" you ask, unable to resist teasing him further.

"Of course not," he smirks. "I kiss each of my biceps and then point to the mirror and thank my old man for creating such a perfect male specimen."

You shake your head, trying not to smile at his ridiculousness. "No thanks, I'll pass on that date.

"Three months." He mutters, his voice confident and determined.

"Three months and if I don't convince my parents or get Naomi back, I promise I won't ever bother you or contact you ever again." He sticks out his chest confidently, smirking at you as if he knows he's already won.

"Three months?" you ask incredulously, your voice laced with disbelief. "Seriously? Three months is too much," you say, pursing your lips before letting out a heavy sigh. Three months of pretending to be in a fake relationship with him just to make his ex jealous.

"You're my only option." He pleads, his eyes boring into yours.

"Incorrect." You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "There are plenty of other women out there who would be more than willing to help you make your ex jealous." You wanted to say no, to turn him down and drive away.

"You're right, but she hates you the most." He says, his voice barely above a whisper. You hated him so damn much, but you couldn't deny the fact that you were intrigued by him.

There was something about him that drew you in, that made you want to know more.

You couldn't believe it. You thought this kind of shit only happened in movies, in books, or in some ridiculous fan-fiction.

But no, this was reality and the touch of his hand squeezing yours made you realize just how utterly fucked you were. You tried to laugh it off, thinking he was just playing some sick joke the hockey guys told him to do. But when you saw the serious look on his face, you knew he wasn't joking. He didn't even have a glint of mischief in his eyes, just pure determination. Your heart raced and your palms started to sweat as he shook your hand, his strong grip making you feel like a limp noodle.

You could feel the pulse in your ears as he squeezed your hand. But as you stood there, feeling like a deer caught in headlights, all you could think was, "Fuck."

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dividers by @/cafekitsune !!

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

IF YOU ASK ME TO LEAVE, I’LL STAY FOREVER ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru is stubborn; even when plagued by such a high fever, he insists there’s no need to take care of him. thankfully, you’re equally as stubborn.

word count; 10.8k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, implied non-sorcerer!reader, sickfic, reverse comfort, sickening amounts of fluff, lots of petnames, satoru gojo vs the mortifying ordeal of being loved, just a tinyyyy bit of angst if u rlly squint, literally just satoru being pampered for like 10k words straight, he’s cute when he’s sick but still manages to be a lil shit <33, he’s also a huge sap you have been warned!!

a/n; what can i say, im a proud member of the ”satoru gojo needs to be babied relentlessly” club <33 he’s just a little guy!! tagging @catchuuu my beloved for being the sweetest enjoy a healthy dose of sick sleepy satoru <33 i am tagging all toru enjoyers in spirit btw i love u all

you’ve never seen satoru like this before.

head buried into a big pillow, white locks tousled and sticking to his forehead — skin sweaty, hot to the touch, with a flushed face to match. heavy breaths fall from his parted lips, blinking in and out of consciousness, squeezing his eyes shut.

it’s nothing like the joyous, loud, cocky satoru you’re so used to. he’s weak. he’s fatigued.

he’s completely, undoubtedly sick.

”really, baby,” he slurs, raspy and dry. still attempting to raise himself up, arms straining under the weight of his shivering body. ”there’s no need f’ —”

unceremoniously, his limbs give out beneath him, and he tumbles right back down; a meek little wince escaping his throat as his face falls back into the mattress. the sound makes your heart squeeze tightly in your chest.

”ah. that’s…” he tries to speak, a disgruntled hum muffled by the sheets. ”… annoying.”

satoru sounds frustrated. you can tell he’s resisting the urge to close his eyes, a little helpless, unable to even move properly, like a fish out of water. he’s still breathing unevenly, still sweating, still burning up — you can practically feel it, from where you’re standing, crouched down by his bed.

you’ve never, ever seen satoru like this. you’ve seen him sniffling during flu season, wrecked with headaches during rainy season. you’ve seen him vulnerable; not many times, but enough that it matters. 

but you’ve never seen him like this.

(and it makes you terribly anxious.)

”satoru, please just —” you croak, gnawing at your bottom lip. trying desperately to swallow the worry in your chest. ”don’t overdo it. please?”

you can hear the anxious little timbre of your own voice, and you can feel the frown tugging at your lips. but you can’t do anything to quell the insistent pitter patter of your heartbeat, the ache that accompanies it. satoru’s lying down, still trying to gather the strength to reassure you, even through the feverish haze clouding his mind. 

he looks so small.

this wasn’t what you were expecting to see, today. you were expecting to meet up with satoru, and see his happy little grin, those tiny dimples and freckles that only show themselves in the light of the sun. you were expecting to feel the weight of his hand in yours, as you strolled down to the new crêpe stand he’s been wanting to check out since he first found their instagram account.

you were expecting to see him happy. healthy. a little obnoxious, a little annoying — but hopelessly sweet. all the love you could ever need, molded into a human shape. your little angel.

a sigh slips from your lips. you can’t help it; because satoru is just so stubborn, so closed off, and he can be such an idiot sometimes. you knew something was off the moment he sent you that text, asking you oh so charmingly, apologetically, if you could postpone your date for just an hour or so. you knew something was wrong, but he still wouldn’t let up until you brought out the 🥺 emojis. 

and then he told you he was fine. it’s all he ever is, apparently.

my throat’s just a little scratchy, is all. wouldn’t want you to miss out on the voice you love so much, yeah?

give me an hour and i’ll be perfect for you. <3

moron.

he’s curled up in a fetal position, trying to stop himself from shivering, muttering little reassurances under his breath that you can’t make out. wearing ripped jeans and a nice jacket, like he was fully prepared to head out like this — like he genuinely thought an hour, some painkillers and a dream would be enough to chase away a fever this severe. like he was so desperate to see you he was fully willing to take that risk.

moron. moron. he should’ve called you the moment he realized he was sick. instead, you had to coax him into letting you come over, with a flurry of sad and cute emojis you know make him go weak at the knees when they’re coming from you.

and here you are. in satoru’s house, in front of his bed, trying to convince him that he is, in fact, sick. 

but he just won’t listen.

”just — gimme a couple minutes, honey?” your boyfriend mumbles, barely coherent, stringing words together haphazardly. awfully dizzy. ”i just need the painkillers to kick in, i promise i —”

”satoru.”

there’s a sad tint to your voice, now. unmistakable. one that satoru notices, even through the feverish, muddy filter over his reality. 

and it makes him quiet down.

(he doesn’t want to disappoint you.)

as gently as you can, you settle down on the bed, eyes painfully softened. overflowing with care. towering over him, leaning close — to press your lips against his scorching forehead, brushing away his sweaty bangs with a palpable tenderness. your voice soothing, coming out almost as a low coo. you’re frustrated, and exasperated.

but most of all, you’re worried.

”go back to sleep,” you hum, a gentle command. your hand finds his, cold skin meeting warm, tracing circles over his palm. ”i’ll take care of you.”

”there’s no need,” he mutters, instantaneous. so used to denying kindness. 

but he curls an arm around your waist, anyway, tugging you closer; a little needy. like you’re much too far away for his liking. finally beginning to settle down, coaxed into resting by the soft touches your grace him with. it’s only a matter of time.

so you keep your lips against his forehead, cradling his slender fingers in yours, murmuring little whispered reassurances. and before you know it, his lashes have fluttered shut, like a white dove landing on the ground. he still looks so troubled, so meek. you can’t resist the urge to soothe him, hand cupping his face, thumb smoothing over the apple of his cheek. you watch him lean into it, eyes dripping with care. your poor baby. 

for a couple precious moments, you allow yourself to indulge in the sight. even like this, he looks a bit like an angel, a painting come to life. like one wrong brushstroke could smudge him. 

so you’re delicate, as you trace little hearts into his skin, delicate as you maneuver his body enough to peel the layers of clothing off him — leaving him in only an oversized tee and a pair of briefs. satoru can only whine, softly, so quiet you barely even hear him. so disoriented, on the brink of falling into a deep slumber. some part of him is trying to resist, you’re sure, still agonizing over the date he’s missing out on. as if anything matters more than his health.

but it doesn’t work. he can only let out a tiny groan, hopelessly pliant as you tuck him in, pulling a big blanket over his shoulders. you card through his hair, another soft kiss planted on his sweaty forehead — and your hand stays between his locks until you’re sure he’s asleep. his breathing mellows out, his grip around your waist loosens, seeking comfort from you even in his dreams.

you’d crawl under the blankets with him, but you have work to do.

stealing one final glance at your fever-ridden lover, your heartbeat ricochets. he still looks so meek, all warm and sweaty, shirt sticking to his skin. a frown tugs at your bottom lip.

satoru is always so stubborn, refusing to lean on others for support. you wish he had called you immediately, nagged at you to come baby him. sure, you might’ve sighed in faux exasperation, and teased him a little, but it still would’ve made you feel happy. useful. and you would’ve done it in a heartbeat. maybe, if you just prove that you can take care of him properly, he’ll do it next time.

so you stand up, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead one last time, and make your way towards the kitchen.

satoru’s house is spacious. a little too spacious, enough for at least three people to live in comfortably; nice furniture, an expensive sofa in the living room, a large tv you’re almost certain he only keeps around for white noise. such are the ways of the rich, you suppose. he doesn’t invite you over very often, so you’ve never had the chance to get very affiliated with the space. it’s always the other way around — him, waiting for you on the couch when you get home, chirping out an unconvincing don’t even worry about it, baby! when you ask how he got in without a key. or him, showing up at your doorstep in the middle of the night, filling the sleepy silence with jokes to distract you from the bags under his eyes.

(he likes it when you cling to him in your sleep — he sleeps a lot better that way. that’s what he told you, at least, when you brought him coffee in bed that one time. a little glimmer of honesty.)

he stays over so often he might as well just move in, but you aren’t really sure how to even approach that subject. some part of you fears it’d be too much, too intimate, that he’d pack his bags and run away. bringing all his secrets with him, that soft laughter you’ve grown so fond of. so you figure it’s better to let him make a home out of yours, let him curl up on your couch and snack on the candy you hid in your kitchen cabinets. that’s safe for him.

and now that you’ve seen his home up close — if you can even call it that — you think you’re starting to understand his preference. because it’s spacious, yes, but also empty. save for expensive furniture and fake houseplants, there isn’t anything to indicate that the apartment belongs to him, that he feels comfortable there. like he hasn’t even bothered to make it his. like it’s about to be sold, and you’re just one of the potential buyers, checking the place out. admiring the patterns of the floorboards and the walls.

it doesn’t feel like satoru at all. 

his own bedroom was another story, a much more pleasant one. a lot more satoru. filled with little trinkets, key charms and souvenirs and silly figurines. a framed photo of three students by the windowsill, an old uniform hanging by his closet, socks strewn about here and there. a dying houseplant. comic books and movie posters and a ps5 you don’t think he’s touched since he finished spiderman 2. a king sized bed, that makes him look like a spoiled little princess when he’s lying in it, next to a cat plushie you won for him at a fair. knowing he actually sleeps with it kind of makes you want to cry.

there’s this particular scent, too, lingering in the air. mellow, nostalgic, the kind that soothes you with just a whiff; a blend between sunlight, expensive cologne, and something sweet. it clings to all his favorite clothes, to his skin. you’d live in it if you could. 

something constricts, inside your chest — like thorny vines strangling your beating heart, pressing down ever so slightly. just thinking about it, about him, about his distressed expression as his head hit the pillow. making your way over to his kitchen, getting yourself affiliated with the space, preparing to make a good soup for his fever. the fridge is almost empty, save for sweets and that one drink you like. the takeout boxes on his kitchen table tells you all you need to know.

it only makes you worry more.

luckily, you were clever enough to buy your own ingredients on the way here. chop, chop, into tiny little pieces. chicken soup should help, shouldn’t it? it’s all you can focus on, all you can hope for. anything is fine; you just want to help him, be of use somehow. he does so much for you.

you just want to give some of it back.

satoru’s loneliness is a subtle thing. flexible, alert, slipping away at the slightest sign of knowing eyes. for someone who’s so often surrounded by people, cracking jokes and laughing louder than anyone else, he doesn’t seem to make any noise when he’s alone. he curls into himself, just a bit, and a kind of reminiscence smooths over the contours of his face. 

that’s when you see him. that lonely, lonely guy. resigned to his self-imposed isolation, paradoxically yearning for something more. watching as the cherry trees bloom, like they’ll give him the answers he seeks once they bear fruit.

but the moment you come into view, he smiles. knowing you won’t push it — that you’ll let him take his time. that you’ll let him flee, just a little. 

still, you can’t help but wish he’d lean on you a little more. you wish you could chase his loneliness away with a pitchfork, but it’s a fickle creature. you somehow doubt he wants to part with it. 

all you can do is love him. love him, love him, and love him some more; until he’s had his fill.

(you’re not sure he ever will. it’s a good thing, a very good thing, because you’re almost certain you’ll never run out.) 

and that’s why you’re here. in his ghost of a home, his kitchen, pouring water into a large pot. tender, sprinkling love over every single action, every slice and dice, every piece of chicken and veggies thrown into the boiling water. you try and you try, hoping it’ll reach him.

but before you can make another attempt, something reaches you, instead.

two long arms curl around your waist, suddenly, something warm and soft pressing itself against your back. and you almost flinch, completely caught up in the stirring of the soup, unsure of how much time has passed since you began. it jolts you out of your thoughts. 

you know who it is, though. never mind the fact that he’s the only other person in the apartment; you know it’s him by his touch alone, the weight of his arms, that particular scent that surrounds him. like memories of summer.

it’s awfully sweet, the way he clings to you, the soft little blissful sigh that slips from his lips. but before you can feel moved at the domesticity of the gesture, worry clouds your senses. he doesn’t even get the chance to speak.

”satoru —” you place a palm on his forearm, craning your head to look back at him. his forehead rests against your shoulder, and his eyes are closed. he’s still so warm, too warm. ”what are you doing here? you should be resting.” 

your boyfriend mumbles something, under his breath, something that your ears can’t quite digest. he shifts, a little, as if getting ready to put on some sort of act — to smile and joke, or laugh and tease you. you can imagine what he’d say if he wasn’t in such a feverish state; he’d hug you from behind, a low purr of what’cha up to? whispered right into your ear. then you’d jolt, and he’d giggle sheepishly, satisfied with the reaction.

but now, all he can do is cough. still leaning against you, gripping onto your midriff a little more desperately than usual. you step away from the stove, turning around, making sure your hands never leave his. looking up at him with concern in your eyes, noticing his little frown.

”c’mon, you need to lie down.” you reach for his cheek, cupping it in your palm, and he practically melts into it. enjoying the chilly sensation to his fever-ridden skin. “the soup’ll be finished soon, okay?”

”… you made,” he tries, syllables falling from his lips haphazardly. ”soup —” a series of coughs. they cut him off, and the worry in your chest only deepens. 

“don’t push yourself, okay? you’re really sick, dummy.” satoru pouts, but doesn’t say anything, only clinging to you tighter when you usher him away. “let’s go back to your room, alright?”

but he won’t budge. he’s so sleepy, so sick and delirious, putting all his body weight on you. you try your best not to stumble beneath it.

”honey,” you plead, holding him securely in your embrace. his arms around your waist, your hands on his shoulders. ”work with me, please? just gotta get you back to bed —”

”’s…” he whispers, suddenly, a raspy little thing. scratchy, meek, awfully earnest; you wonder if he’s too sick not to be. ”… too lonely without you.” 

a moment passes. your breath hitches pitifully, at the base of your throat.

satoru is hugging you so tightly, as if you could disappear at any moment, slip away if he doesn’t keep you close. he’s holding you as if pleading for comfort, for a touch of safety. as if he needs you. if his meek little admission hadn’t already melted your heart the marrow, that thought certainly would’ve done the job.

taking a moment to collect yourself, you inhale, face surely aflame. satoru just nuzzles into your shoulder, too tired to say anything else, wanting to be close to you. it’s a wonder your knees don’t buckle.

gently, you let your hand trail upwards, palm smoothing down his hair. softly, like he’s a clingy, overgrown cat. ”sorry,” you start, just a little breathless. ”i’ll be with you, okay? won’t leave you alone. i promise.”

there’s an earnesty in your words that you doubt you could ever fake. satoru must hear it too, you think, because he finally begins to work with you. allowing you to stumble towards his bedroom, supporting his weight.

but once you make it to his bed, he still refuses to let go of you.

”toru, gotta go finish that soup. ’n make you some tea.” you rub his back, soothingly, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. shaking his head and emitting a throaty groan, only squeezing you tighter when you try to guide him under the covers. how cruel of him, to act so cute when said soup is most likely boiling over by the stove. ”please, sweetie? it won’t take long. i promise. you can go back to sleep.”

another groggy huff. you’re both still standing by the edge of the bed, and satoru still won’t let you leave. all you can do is sigh, smearing a little kiss against his neck. 

he squirms, ever so slightly, and you get an idea.

so you keep pressing little kisses against his skin, knowing just how to make him melt. feeling him relax in your embrace, snuggle into your chest, so pliant that he lets you tuck him in — as long as your lips stay pressed against his jaw. before he can realize what’s happening, you grab hold of the blanket, draping it over him; his half-lidded eyes blinking up at you. you press a final kiss against his forehead, grabbing the cat plushie from the edge of the bed and placing it close enough for satoru to reach if need be.

”i’ll hurry, toru. be a good boy and stay here, alright?” 

a teasing lilt sneaks into your voice, coaxed out by how adorable your boyfriend looks like this; baby blue eyes all droopy, snowy hair messy as it falls across the cushion he’s resting on. blinking sluggishly, grunting a little in response. 

when you scurry off the bed and make your way towards the door, you glance back at him. he’s still looking in your direction, with half-lidded eyes, and your chest aches. ”i’ll be back soon, baby,” you try to soothe him. “try to sleep.”

this time, you hurry. body working almost on autopilot, images of your boyfriend still tugging at your heartstrings like he’s arranging an orchestra, moving your legs forward. before you know it, you’re walking back, carrying a tray with both your hands. steam wafts up from the hot soup and the warm cup of tea, shaking a little as you walk, a pair of painkillers in your pocket. just in case he needs more. an eager, pulsating joy rushes through your veins — now you can be with him, tend to him, not leave him alone in a room so like him you wish you could stay there forever. 

your footsteps are light, almost careful as they cross the threshold. satoru stirs, waiting for you to come to his side, looking like a kicked puppy in his giant bed. he tries to lift himself up, but it looks like it requires an intense amount of focus, like his elbows could buckle any second. 

”careful,” you croon, hurrying over, placing the tray on the nightstand. gently pushing him back down on the mattress. he complies almost instantly, too out of it to put up a real fight. staring at you, as if in awe.

to satoru, you appear almost as an angel, a somewhat blurry figure that he recognizes without looking. your very presence is soothing, like a lullaby in human form. with the hazy filter clouding his mind, he can’t even seem to form words correctly — all satoru can focus on is you. your movements, the lilt of your voice, a cold hand dulling the heat of his forehead.  

his fever still hasn’t gone down. you try and muster a smile, but you’re sure it must look painfully coated in unease. crouching down, you place your elbows on the bed, your jaw meeting the mattress. you’re at eye level with him, now.

”hey,” you start, low and comforting. you don’t want to be too loud. ”sorry it took so long.”

using what little energy he has left, satoru crosses the distance between you, inching closer and closer. noticing it, you reach a hand out to cup his cheek — lips quick to find his forehead. a barely audible sigh leaves him, and you smile.

”d’you think you can eat?” you whisper, gazing at him fondly. treating him a little like a baby, maybe, but you can’t help it when he’s like this. quiet as a mouse. ”i made soup and tea… sound okay?”

he tries to make a noise. it comes out sounding like a strange blend between a dissatisfied groan and an affirming hum, but he still ends up nodding slightly. you wonder if indulging you is ingrained into his bone structure. 

”… okay. think you can sit up, toru?”

once again, your boyfriend only hums — but he does begin to move, trying to hoist himself up, wobbling pitifully. you help, keeping him steady until his spine meets the headboard. slumped against it, he blinks slowly, feverishly.

”thank you.” you press a chaste kiss against his cheek, before reaching for the cup of tea, the scent of chamomile and lavender filling your senses. you blow on it softly. ”here. it should help with your throat, so try to drink a bit, okay? s’ got honey in it.”

silently, he accepts the cup, bringing it to his lips. when he takes a sip, you catch the slightest hint of a grimace on his lips; even with your warning of careful, it’s hot, you think he must have managed to burn his tongue. 

satoru keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to worry you. but he can’t say bringing himself to drink it is an easy endeavor, with how sweaty it makes him feel, how it forces him to acknowledge how painfully dry his throat is. how he can’t even taste the herbs.

he wants to be good for you, though.

so he gulps it down, slowly, managing to sip almost all of it until you decide to give him a break. compared to this morning, he already feels just a little better, a little less like he’s in a fever dream. you’re sitting by the bedside, so patient, so caring. he can’t take his eyes off you, even now. clearing his throat, attempting to get used to speaking again. ”thanks.”

the mutter sounds strained, but slightly easier on the ears, easier to make out than before. courtesy of the honey, you assume. gosh, you hadn’t realized you’d begun to miss his voice so much. 

”no problem,” you hum, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “think you can eat something? or is that too much?”

”’course,” he croaks. there’s a slight sense of liveliness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, but before he can continue, he’s caught off by a small coughing fit. harmless, but sufficient in making you worry. 

”no need to force yourself,” you soothe, patting down his head, watching as he quiets down. the tea might’ve given him a temporary energy boost, but you still don’t want him to overdo it. “just relax, satoru.”

he hums, weakly, and you reward him with a light ruffle of his hair. then you direct your attention to the soup on the nightstand, still hot, smelling of vegetable broth and fresh chicken and coriander. you bring the bowl down to your lap, and take a spoonful of the soup, blowing on it like you did with the tea. bringing it towards his lips. 

”i dunno if it’ll taste very good,” you admit, scratching absently at the back of your neck. ”but it should help with the fever, at least. i’d be happy if you could eat a bit.”

as his lips make contact with the metal of the spoon, satoru can’t help but let himself be swept away. he still feels a little too hazy, too feverish to really comprehend what’s happening; he feels oddly bare like this, vulnerable, a little afraid of what might come out of his mouth if he doesn’t keep it shut. so he opts to accept the treatment he’s receiving, not putting up a fight or making a fuss. not meeting your expectant eyes.

(he feels a little shy, being spoonfed by you. how very unlike him.)

the soup does feel soothing. he thinks he can even get a sense of the taste, how hard you must’ve worked on it. but more than anything, the way you’re acting is like balm to his soul — looking at him so kindly, treating him so tenderly. offering him spoon after spoon with gentle words of encouragement. being babied in such a way makes him feel so oddly content that he’s almost embarrassed. it should be the other way around. 

yet here you are, spoonfeeding him soup that you made yourself, because he’s sick, even though he hates to admit it, and you care about him. he allows the information to linger in the back of his head, for a while, wallowing in the comfort it brings him. fully comprehending it would take too much of a toll on him, in this state. 

satoru basks in the intimacy of the situation, and so do you. brushing strands of hair away when they stick to his skin, pressing your lips against his forehead to check his temperature. you keep doing it until satoru’s appetite dwindles.

”alright, that should be fine —” you glance down at the bowl, now roughly half-empty. more than enough, you think. ”uhh… how do you feel?”

”… better,” satoru answers, truthfully, the ghost of a smile on his glossy lips. ”thank you.”

for a second, you only stare, saying nothing. there’s something in satoru’s expression that catches you off guard, something that’s a little hard to identify. is it the way the light reflects off his skin, his pupils? the red, feverish flush of his skin? that flimsy little smile? or is it the honesty in his eyes, the way he’s looking at you like he’s trying to convey something he can’t put into words? 

as you look at him, take him in, the boy you love so dearly, you can’t help but feel like he just carved open his chest — let you peek inside his ribcage. it’s hard not to feel flustered, in the presence of something so vulnerable.

and he’s thanking you. as if taking care of him is a great burden, a chore, something you’d demand gratitude for. you want to tell him that it’s the bare minimum, the very least of what he deserves. the very least of what you could, should do for him.

you want to tell him that he’s safe, here. that there’s no need to be the strongest, whatever the hell that means, that he can let go of the burdens you know he hides from you. that he can just be your sick, terribly stubborn boyfriend.

”… okay,” is all you breathe out, every other word getting stuck in the back of your throat. ”that’s good.”

satoru’s fingers curl around yours, suddenly, where they lay on your lap. his movements are still a little groggy, disoriented, as he brings your hand up to his lips. they’re warm and soft, especially so in light of his fever. he closes his eyes, white lashes catching the light of the sun, flitting in through the haphazardly closed blinds. your heartbeat stutters.

”… love you,” he mutters. a soft little thing. your eyes don’t leave his face, and your lips part before your brain can instruct them to.

”i love you too,” you blurt out, instantaneous. like you couldn’t bear to keep him waiting. ”… satoru.”

he smiles against your skin. he always does, at the sound of those words. you make him feel so terribly, terribly weak, all the time, everyday. you make him feel so human, and he can’t bring himself to think of it as a bad thing anymore. 

he’s still cradling your hand when he brings it down to the blanket. ”thanks for coming,” he continues, pushing himself. trying to get the words out while he still has the energy to say them. “you didn’t have to.”

they’re a little clumsy, a little stale on his tongue, but they’re honest. he is thankful — the prospect of being seen like this is discomforting, gruelingly so, but he doesn’t mind nearly as much if it’s you. he’d never tell you, but he did feel just a little lonely, when he woke up this morning. disoriented, enveloped by hot flashes of pain, in a way he’s not used to in the slightest. missing out on your date, too, that he had been looking forward to ever since you decided on a time. 

but, as if sensing it, you came to his rescue. the feeling of your lips on his skin was the first sensation he felt, when he woke up for the second time — with you by his side, this time. his guardian angel, carrying the scent of spring with you. the memory of a certain boy, of better times. 

(satoru thinks you’re nostalgia personified. he likes to imagine that you met as children, underneath a cherry tree somewhere, but he knows it’s not true. there’s no way he wouldn’t remember you.)

you smile. pleased, at his show of vulnerability, small as it may be. ”i wanted to,” you assure him. equally honest, equally full of double meanings and hidden messages that neither of you need to uncover to understand. ”… i care about you. of course i’d come.”

a light, raspy chuckle; that’s all satoru manages to vocalize. his mind is stuffed, and there’s an ache in his chest, longing to be filled. it’s been there for a while now. but somehow, some way, you manage to fill it up, slowly but surely, almost effortlessly — with every sound you make, every slight movement, every flicker of an expression on your face. everything seems so effortlessly perfect, in his eyes.

the words leave his lips before his mind can think the thought to reel them back in. 

”what did i do to deserve you…?”

you blink. a moment passes.

then your eyes soften, considerably so, crumbling at the corners like the cookies satoru loves so much. he’s looking at you, eyes soft in a similar sense, layered over with adoration. you think the love inside your chest might crawl out of your throat and eat him alive.

a chuckle of your own drips into the air, quivering slightly. terribly fond. this time, you’re the one who drags his hand up to meet your lips; kissing his knuckle softly. his breath hitches.

”i’m the one who should be saying that to you,” you grin, a little weakly. and you mean it. you don’t think you’ve ever meant anything more. 

it’s so honest that it strikes a cord right down his heart, more heat than the fever can account for rushing to his cheeks. satoru hopes you don’t notice it. all he can do is squeeze your fingers, lightly, not trusting his voice not to break. silence lingers, and you only gaze at him softly. 

”… do you want anything else?” you finally ask, with a tilt of your head. still so eager to assist, racking your brain to come up with anything else to do for him. ”i’ll get it for you, no matter what it is.”

and, truthfully, satoru thinks you’ve done more than enough. more than he could ever make up for. but he’s always been greedy, and there’s one thing, only one thing, one thing he can’t help but ask for. something he craves more than anything. he can’t help but indulge himself, indulge in his selfishness, in the need to feel your skin against his. 

so he stretches his arms out, and looks at you with a distinctly needy glint in his eyes. his fingers move in a grabby motion, almost unconsciously, and he might’ve been embarrassed if he wasn’t still so feverish. all he wants is to keep you close, to make the hollowness inside his chest dissipate. you always make that lonely feeling go away.

needless to say, you heed his request. almost instantly, your heart pumping in a steady rhythm, with this visceral desire to keep him close, to protect him. and who are you to resist, when he’s asking for it himself?

you waste no time crawling beneath the covers, situating yourself right next to your lover. only then do you finally, finally, reach your arms out to pull him close; so close you feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart. his cheek meets the softness of your chest, snuggling closer, and you card a hand through his soft locks. his arms reach around your midriff, a perfect puzzle piece, and he releases an audible sigh — deep and satisfied. in his tired, clingy state, he subconsciously throws a leg over yours, trapping you further. 

you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

finally, satoru can fall asleep. with the fever still clouding his senses, and your nimble fingers smoothing along his scalp, the occasional kiss to his head as he listens to your soft heartbeat, he’s drifted off before either of you know it. melting into you, into your warm embrace, cheek squished against your chest. tiny little breaths fall from his lips, and you feel like you’re cradling the whole world in your arms. 

you’re relieved. making yourself comfortable on your back, with satoru sleeping soundly on top of you, hoping he’ll feel better when he wakes up. careful, even with your breathing, intent on letting him sleep. knowing he doesn’t get nearly as much rest as he should, most days. 

before long, even you succumb to the cozy atmosphere, gradually dozing off. satoru is always warm, even more so now, and his weight is comforting.

stifling a yawn, you tug him a little bit closer, allowing your eyes to flutter shut. you could use a day of catching up on lost sleep, too.

when you wake up, you’re acutely aware of something poking your cheek.

it’s a ticklish sensation, sort of irritating, and it rouses you from your cozy slumber. disgruntled, so cruelly ripped away from your sweet dreams — satoru was in it, you think. you feel robbed.

still, you can’t be too mad. not when the real deal is right in front of you, eyes crinkled and full of warmth, a teasing smile on his lips. he’s still snuggled into your chest, all cozy and cute, as you lay on your back, propped up by a myriad of fluffy pillows. he looks up at you adoringly.

”well hello there,” he purrs, shooting a giddy little grin your way. still poking your cheek. ”wakey-wakey, sunshine!”

a series of blinks. you stir a little further, the sleepy haze of your brain beginning to slip off, slowly but surely. it takes a couple of seconds for you to remember why you’re here, what happened before you fell asleep. 

”… hey,” you greet, at last, stifling a yawn and squeezing your eyes shut. stretching lazily, like a sleepy cat. ”how do you feel…?”

”i’m perfect. better than perfect, actually,” satoru chirps, a little cheeky, hoisting himself up so that he’s hovering above you. a hint of mischief in those pretty eyes. ”you’re a good nurse, y’know?”

you huff out a chuckle. as always, his actions reveal more than his words — you could tell he felt a lot better the moment you saw his smile, heard how he formed his words. “alright, that’s good,” you hum, exhaling softly. ”how long was i asleep? what time is it?”

”i woke up just now, too,” satoru lies, albeit a small one. he did wake up recently, only to spend what he thinks must’ve been at least fifteen minutes staring at you until he physically couldn’t take it anymore. he had to hear your voice, see your smile. it’s a personal record for him; usually he spends less time admiring your peaceful expression, far too eager to speak to you.

”it’s pretty late,” he continues, another small lie. pleased with himself. ”way too late for you to go back, actually. how about you spend the night?”

another blink, your eyelids heavy and droopy as they open and close. then you’re reaching for your phone on the nightstand, and checking the time. a smile is quick to bloom on your lips, teasing and bubbly, as you tilt your head to meet his gaze.

”it’s only four, satoru.”

”way, way too late,” he only reaffirms, flopping down on top of you again, keeping you from leaving. ”god knows what kinda creeps are out there at this hour — much too unsafe. i’m just looking out for you, baby.”

”of course,” you indulge him, a sly little roll of your eyes that makes him pout. ”you know i was planning on staying over anyway, right?”

”well, of course! i wouldn’t expect anything less from my favorite nurse.”

his eyes betray his words, gleaming with a sudden colour of excitement, all glitter and relief. a joy that clogs up his throat like seafoam, and spills out from his lips. you look down at him, for a second, unable to resist the temptation — reaching for his forehead with the back of your hand. 

it’s significantly less scalding, now. 

you let out a sigh, laced with relief, one you didn’t know you’d been holding in. ”it really has gone down,” you hum, stretching the sleep from your limbs again. “that’s good.”

satoru huffs. ”i said i was perfect, right? don’t you trust me, my sweet lover?”

”i never know with you,” you give him a huff of your own, exasperated. fond. “you said you were just fine this morning, too.”

”i was!” he whines. piling up lie after lie. “i totally could’ve made it to that date, you know. i got worse because you had no faith in my abilities.”

”right. of course.” you shoot him a lopsided grin. ”you just don’t wanna admit the fever beat your ass, huh?”

”see? no faith.” a chuckle slips from your lips, and satoru has to bite back a smile. ”unbelievable. i fought that fever off just for you, and here you are, laughing at me.”

”oh? i thought it was thanks to my top notch nursing skills?”

”well, that too! but it was mostly me.”

a sigh. “whatever you say.” then you’re smiling, once more, unable to help yourself. eyes crinkled at the edges, soft around the corners. ”i’m just glad you’re better. i was worried.”

satoru pouts, again, but you can tell he acknowledges it — your earnest concern. this is how you love, the both of you, through words that never say it all and actions that say the words your mouths can’t fit. decoding the meaning of it all in silent gestures, glints in your eyes. little truth games.

”you really thought a lil’ fever was gonna be enough to keep me down?” he shakes his head once, then twice. and you know that what he means to say is i never want you to worry. “c’mon, now, baby.”

another lighthearted roll of your eyes. ”yeah, yeah, yeah. my sincerest apologies, my strong, stubborn, totally-not-sick boyfriend.”

”don’t you mean your strong, perfect, beautiful, clever, flawless, totally-not-sick boyfriend?”

”don’t think i didn’t notice you sneaking the stubborn out of there.”

”hehe.”

a silent moment passes, something tender filling up the space between your words. satoru’s weight is still so comforting, like a big blanket, his arms enveloping you as he breathes in your scent. you’re so happy that he’s acting insufferable again.

”alright, my honeybee,” he suddenly chirps, breaking the silence, hoisting himself up. ”time to go. we can still get those crêpes if we hurry.”

you blink. once, then twice.

”… satoru.”

”yeah? what’s up?”

you give him an unimpressed look, gazing up at him, towering over you like he fully thought you’d be alright with letting him leave. ”you’re… not going out today,” you deadpan. “you know that, right?”

this time, he’s the one who blinks. once, then twice.

”huh? why not?”

”uh, because you’re sick, maybe?”

”what?” satoru pretends to be shocked, offended, as if he can’t believe you’d even suggest something so outrageous. ”i’m all better, though!”

you raise an eyebrow, thoroughly displeased. all better? ”your fever isn’t gone, satoru. it’s just not horrible anymore. you’ll get yourself even more sick if you go out now.”

”i won’t! seriously!” he insists, looking down at you with a sorry attempt at puppy dog eyes. ”i feel good enough to run a marathon!”

”you’re not doing that either,” you mutter. then a sigh, exasperated. you can’t let this charade go on for too long. ”come on, satoru — don’t be so stubborn. we can go there another time.”

”but —”

”besides, didn’t you say i have to spend the night because it’s too late to go outside? remember the creeps?” there’s amusement in your voice, a light smile on your lips. ”what if they get us?”

”well, they obviously won’t get you while i’m there,” he huffs. ”what, you don’t think i can protect you properly? you’re hurting me, angel.”

you bite back an incredulous laugh. god, he’s stubborn. you’re so in love with him you just barely restrain the urge to pull him in for a kiss.

”sa-to-ru,” you coo, dragging each syllable out, sending a shiver down his spine. ”we’re not going outside. end of discussion.”

”why not, though?” he continues to pout, still refusing to give in. resorting to cheap guilt-tripping. ”don’t you wanna go on a date with me? you don’t want to see me happy, is that it?”

you only sigh, thoroughly exasperated, reaching up to cup his cheek nonetheless. he nuzzles into it. ”you’re such a baby.”

”your baby.”

another sigh, to mask your adoration. at this rate, the back and forth will never end, so you scramble for solutions.

“can’t we just have our date here?” you suggest, after some contemplation. ”i bought some ice cream on my way here. we could watch a movie, or something. isn’t that enough?”

satoru’s eyes bore into yours. contemplative, as he lets the silence linger, gears turning inside his mind. he wants to go outside with you, wants to hold your hand and hear you hum happily as you bite into your crêpe; wants to steal a bite when you’re not looking.

but it is a tempting offer. you could eat ice cream, and binge a bunch of movies, and he could rest his head in your lap. coax you into playing with his hair.

(he’s maybe, just maybe, a little bit tired, too.)

so, finally, he sighs — softly. in resignation. 

”… well, i guess that’s fine,” he pouts, allowing himself to fall back into your embrace. his voice is muffled, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. ”i wanted crêpes, though…”

”i’ll get you your crepes,” you assure him, relieved to have reached a compromise. ”i can go buy ’em myself and come back. then we —”

”no, no, no!” satoru suddenly interjects. whining, tugging you closer. ”you’re not going anywhere. not without me!”

a sigh, just as adoring as it is fatigued. ”then i’ll… order crêpes, or something. or we’ll eat ice cream today and then crêpes when you’re better. does that sound okay?”

satoru is silent, for a while.

”… okay,” he hums. ”that’s fine.”

”haah. okay, good —”

”however!” 

you give him a look, a silent what now? that has him smiling. shuffling a little, in your embrace, planting his jaw on top of your chest and gazing up at you with a grin. ”instead of the crêpes, i want a kiss.”

you blink. exasperated, as an amused chuckle follows. ”so convoluted. you can just ask, you know?” you don’t give him time to answer, eager to appease the pouty man. ”whatever.” 

leaning in, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. sweet and soft. to your surprise, he’s still pouting when you pull away. ”i meant on the lips,” he explains, as if it was obvious. 

a tilt of your head. 

”… but you’re sick.”

”so?” satoru just pouts, expression practically etched into his face at this point. ”you won’t kiss me anymore? just cause i’ve got a tiny, miniscule fever?” he huffs, turning his head to the right and shutting his eyes. ”if you don’t love me anymore, you can just say that.”

another sigh leaves your lips. he’s so ridiculous. you can’t really deny him, though.

”… fine. it’s your fault if i get sick, though.”

in the blink of an eye, he’s perked right back up. wagging his non-existent tail, closing his eyes and waiting for you to try again. silly.

but you relent. his lips are only slightly warmer than usual, and you choose to see it as the good sign it is, proof that his fever truly is starting to dissipate. you feel satoru relax, melting into the kiss, but before it can drag out too long you’ve pulled away. ”— there. happy now?” 

”for now,” he quips, equally teasing. he’s cute, though. a little kiss or two is a small price to pay for the spark of joy in his iris, even if it ends with you sick on your deathbed in a couple of days. 

”that’ll do,” you grin, hoisting yourself up with your elbows, carrying satoru with you, his jaw still on your chest. ”wanna go eat some ice cream, mr unreasonable?”

you don’t really need an answer. of course satoru wants ice cream. you’ve never seen him turn down anything sweet — and, lo and behold, he perks up again, getting into a sitting position. like an excited puppy. 

”got it,” you chuckle, stopping to think for a moment. “there’s soup left, too. but maybe you’d rather order something? it turned out kinda so-so.”

satoru gapes. ”you kidding? that was the best soup i’ve ever had!” 

his exclamation makes you roll your eyes, words so coated in confidence that you almost want to believe him. ”satoru. you don’t have to lie.”

”i’m not!”

”you couldn’t even taste it.”

”i could, i could!” he stubbornly whines. ”i tasted all your love. every single drop!”

you give him a look. he only grins at you, a little teasing, a little giddy. you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed; averting your gaze with a sharp scoff. ”yeah? and how did my love taste?”

satoru leans forward. it’s sudden, and you blink, instinctively leaning back in turn. he’s wearing a signature smirk when he stops moving, close enough that you feel his breath on your skin. hot.

”delicious,” he purrs, glancing down at your lips. blue eyes gleaming with mirth. ”best thing i’ve ever had.”

you know he’s just trying to fluster you, so you try to fight against it, but it doesn’t work nearly as well as you’d like — crumbling under his gaze, averting your own with a quiet huff. and he lets you off the hook, satisfied with your embarrassed expression. pulling back slightly, letting you breathe. 

as swiftly as you can, you regain your composure. clearing your throat. ”well, you can have more of it later, then,” you make a move to get off the bed. ”let’s go eat ice cream.”

after being caged in by satoru for so long, your limbs are a little stiff, caught under the weight of his boundless love. when your feet hit the soft flooring, you stretch them out, watching satoru follow your lead. still clad in that sweaty shirt.

”you should probably get a change of clothes,” you suggest, exhaling as your muscles loosen up. ”you’ve been wearing that shirt all day.”

”oh? is that an excuse to see me out of it, sweetheart?” satoru grins, fresh mischief gleaming in his eyes. ”you know you can always just ask.” 

you huff out a sardonic breath. ”yeah, yeah, whatever. throw on a hoodie or something, weirdo.” you stifle a giggle when he makes an offended noise behind you. “and some pants.”

”you don’t like the underwear?” he looks towards the corner of the room, studying himself in the mirror. “this is an expensive brand, you know?”

”you’re the only person on planet earth who’d give a fuck about underwear brands,” you scoff, a little snarky. ”just — put some comfortable clothes on, okay? i’ll go get the ice cream ready.”

”wait!” he exclaims, attaching himself to you, curling his arms around your bicep. “you’re not allowed to go anywhere without me, remember?” 

“… okay, okay. hurry up and get changed, then.”

sitting back down on the bed, while satoru walks towards the closet, you scroll through your phone — refusing to meet his expectant stare. he wants you to look over, you’re well aware, just so he can tease you for trying to sneak a peek. you won’t give him the satisfaction.

when he’s done, he’s wearing a comfy hoodie and some sweatpants. it’s a good look on him, casual and cozy. awfully cute. he wastes no time in attaching himself to you, again, an arm linked with yours as you travel to the kitchen; grabbing the pints of ice cream from the freezer, a couple snack bags from the drawers, before plopping down on the couch.

satoru maneuvers you into his lap, and you don’t put up a fight, leaning into him as your back meets his chest. he keeps you locked in place, arms around your waist, planting his jaw on the top of your head. and he relaxes, comforted by your smaller body pressed up against his. holding you so close satisfies a certain protective itch in his brain, never failing to calm him down. a safe haven, of sorts.

you watch the movie and eat the snacks, chattering away, letting the silence linger every now and then. after a while, satoru gets a slight headache, resting his head in your lap and whining for you to soothe him. you do so without any teasing; you’re much too soft for him. and he’s still sick, even if he’s doing better. you couldn’t resist him even if you tried.

so you opt to indulge him.

”baby, i think my fever’s going up again…” satoru pouts, gazing up at you through fluttering lashes. ”can you check?”

you smile, with a raise of your eyebrow. ”this is the fifth time you’ve asked me to check your temperature, toru.”

”just wanna make sure,” he whines. “please?”

with an exaggerated sigh, you lean down, lips once again meeting his forehead — humming against his skin. nope, his temperature hasn’t gone up. just like it hadn’t gone up the last time you checked, or the time before that.

”you’re good.”

”oh, thank god,” he exhales. ”are you sure? like, a hundred percent sure? maybe you should check again. just in case.”

”satoru,” you coo, a teasing lilt on the tip of your tongue. ”you can just ask me if you want a kiss.”

”a kiss? scandalous. i just wanna make sure my condition doesn’t worsen.”

he’s grinning, and you’re rolling your eyes, and both of you know damn well you’re going to indulge him anyway. he sighs in satisfaction when he feels your soft lips on his heated skin.

”hmm…” you narrow your eyes, thoughtfully, before looking down at him with a teasing smile. ”nope. definitely still the same temperature.” 

”you sure?”

”a hundred percent.”

”hmm. okay, got it.” he rolls over, burying his face in your stomach. wrapping his limbs around your midriff. “that’s good. just wanted to check, you know?”

”of course.”

”might need you to check again soon. just to be safe,” he chirps, biting back a soft grin. you don’t bother hiding yours.

”got it, got it,” you coo, fingers carding through his messy hair. “anything for my sick baby.” 

satoru releases a soft breath, bordering on a giggle. you can’t help but let your smile grow wider, heart brimming with affection. you let it clog up your chest until the movie’s almost over, and you simply can’t help yourself anymore.

”your room is very like you.”

it’s sudden, breaking the peaceful silence, making satoru stir. you’re both starting to get sleepy again. but he blinks up at you, studying your expression before parting his lips.

”… oh? how so?”

“well…” you stop to think. humming, absently fidgeting with a lock of your boyfriend’s hair. ”when i first walked in, i thought the whole house felt kind of empty, you know?”

satoru hums. unsure of where the conversation is going, maybe just a little intrigued. he mostly just likes listening to you talk. 

”but then i went into your room, and — it just felt very you. kinda messy, and stuff, but cozy. and a little sentimental.” satoru looks up at you, admiring that certain soft glimmer in your eyes. you meet his stare with a smile. ”maybe it doesn’t make sense? i guess i’ve just been thinking about it.”

he closes his eyes.

there’s something soft in your tone, something silky and simple, and he can tell you’re being sincere. it’s something he likes about you — that willingness to be soft, almost pridefully so, to bare yourself even if you aren’t sure that he’ll return the favour. he likes to think it’s rubbing off on him, slowly but surely; he doesn’t think he’s quite as bad as before. telling you about things that are dear to him isn’t something that scares him, anymore. and even when you see him vulnerable, sick and delirious in bed, he isn’t afraid that you’ll use it against him.

you’re a comfort; his safe haven. a place to rest his weary head. maybe you always have been, even before he really got to know you.

”i like your place more,” he finally admits, lighthearted in its weight. your gaze flits down, but his is still lingering on the tv, not really paying attention to it. ”it feels very… you.”

a smile crawls up to rest against your lips. playing along, your hands finding solace in between his fluffy locks. ”how so?”

and satoru smiles. eyes sparkling with something mellow, like a soda pop cracked open on a boiling summer day. he shifts a little, just to gaze up at you again. ”it’s… homely. warm,” his smile only grows. “and awfully sentimental.”

he lifts a hand up, to touch your cheek. tender, as his thumb smooths against your skin. it’s warm, beneath his touch, heating up with every word he speaks. satoru’s love feels a little like the sun, when it spills out this fervently, like it could burn you into cinders — you think you’d be happy to lie in the ashes. he’s smiling at you, like sunshine, like little dusty specks of light. and he exhales.

”i wouldn’t mind staying there forever.”

the expression on his face is a lovely one. you take a moment to simply bask in it, desperate to etch it into your memory. you don’t think you could forget it even if you tried. how fondly the light of the room embraces him, that soft grin he’s shooting your way, only vaguely teasing. and his eyes, the gateways to his soul, so sincere you can’t look away.

you love this man with your whole chest. you knew before, you’ve known for a long time, but each day you fall in love all over again. it’s all you can think as you look at him, all snug and safe and happy in your lap.

you don’t realize you’ve been staring at him silently until he chuckles, pulling you out of your sentimental stupor. it only flusters you further.

”you’re cute,” satoru croons, still cradling your cheek. tender, soft fingertips against your heated skin. all you manage is a meek little furrow of your brows, but that only makes him chuckle again.

”… you can.”

he blinks. still smiling.

”stay forever, i mean.”

you can’t look at him, when you say it. the words are barely above a whisper, and you aren’t sure if they’re conscious or not. it’d be nice to say they just slipped out, but they feel somewhat deliberate, all the same. you know you mean them, either way. it’s the one thing you’re sure of.

this time, satoru is the one who can do nothing but stare, his expression unreadable. you try not to let your gaze wander to his face, his eyes; but through the peripheral of your vision, you feel like you catch a particular kind of sadness reflected in them. or maybe it’s something closer to yearning, longing. something like that.

”… well,” he finally hums, voice so low you barely pick up on it. ”maybe i will, then.”

you reach something. 

you catch a glimpse of it, at least, for just a second or two. something warm and bare, something simple and incomprehensible at the same time. an emotion so strong it leaves you reeling, yet still so light. it’s there and then it isn’t, just out of reach, and you think that if you could only find the courage to curl your fingers around his, then —

a laugh track plays from the tv, snapping you both out of your thoughts.

(the moment passes before you can fully understand it, fully comprehend it. maybe some part of you already has.)

…

satoru chuckles, reaching for another ball of mochi and popping it into his mouth. ”this movie’s awful, huh?”

”yeah,” you’re quick to agree, maybe a little too quick. grinning weakly. ”it’s good in a so bad it’s good kinda way, though.”

he hums in absentminded agreement, still chewing on the soft treat. keeping his gaze steady on the screen, the flicker of emotional scenes he hasn’t been keeping track of, barely resisting the urge to look up at you again. but his heart already feels a little too mushy for his liking — he’s not sure he could take it.

satoru doesn’t get sick often.

his immune system is strong, there’s no denying that. but more than anything, he simply can’t afford to be sick. there are people who need him, people who depend on him, and the idea of being in such a defenseless state — stuck in bed while the world continues to spin, unattended — makes him feel so anxious he could throw up. even sleeping makes him feel a little skittish, sometimes, though he’s gotten a lot better since he started falling asleep with you in his arms.

it’s funny, he thinks. before you, being sick wasn’t something that really existed in his world. if he felt a little under the weather he would simply puff out his chest and down a painkiller or two, waving it off with a flick of his wrist; no biggie, really. he’s satoru gojo, after all, and the world needs his eyes on it.

but then you came along. you came to his rescue, spring in your pockets, and you took care of him, with what he knows to be love. genuine, earnest concern for his wellbeing. his happiness.

yeah — it’s funny, for sure. satoru never thought he’d ever enjoy being sick. 

yet here he is, head in your lap, feeling you run your fingers through his hair. kissing his forehead whenever he whines, indulging his little convoluted ploys. bringing him soup, when he gets hungry again, soup you made yourself. he wasn’t kidding when he said he tasted your love through it; it was all he could taste, with his numbed out senses, all he could feel.

you’re so good to him. there’s nothing he would trade for these moments with you, absolutely nothing. he’s glad you came over, after all. glad you’re so stubborn, and oh so caring. satoru can’t help but smile, heart almost stuffed to the brim with gratitude — what could he possibly do with this immense love in his chest?

”i love you so much,” he blurts out, practically beaming. now you’re in his lap, again, and he takes the opportunity to smear openmouthed kisses against your neck. delighting in the little squeak you try to muffle.

”where did that come from?” you blink, squirming a little in his embrace. a movie is still playing on the tv screen, one better than the last — your attention was fixed on it before satoru broke the silence.

”just felt like saying it!” he only chirps, grinning ear to ear. ”i love you. you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he murmurs, earnestly, lips against your skin. ”my whole world.”

for a moment, you wonder if the fever is making him delirious. then again, this is pretty standard for satoru; always eager to fluster you, to shower you with love until you’re pushing him away. it’s overwhelming, but you’ve never minded. this is how you measure his love — little gaps between too much and never enough.

”… you’re not gonna say it back?” comes a whine, right by your ear. now he’s nibbling at your neck, little beast that he is, pouting because you let the silence linger for too long. he’s being such a baby about it. but you still rush to reassure him, echoing his words in earnest. 

”i love you too, satoru,” you smile, slightly exasperated. craning your neck so that your lips can meet his jaw, and satoru grins, giddy at the attention. ”my whole universe.”

satoru lets out a happy little noise, almost a giggle, sleepy and pleased. his arms squeeze you just a little tighter, like you could never be close enough, even when he’s got you in his lap like this. if he could, he’d keep you there all the time. attached at the hip, close as can be. 

even with a ruined date, even after worrying you, he feels well and truly satisfied. because you're here, and you’re watching a good movie, and you’re gonna stay over tonight. when it gets dark out, he’ll get to fall asleep cuddled up beside you, hold you in his arms and feel you nuzzle into his chest. then he’ll pepper your face with kisses to wake you up, and you’ll grumble all sweetly, and he’ll carry you to the kitchen despite your grumpy protests. you’ll eat breakfast together, chatting and enjoying the way the sunlight flickers around the room like a happy cat. maybe he can even make you breakfast himself, to thank you for today. 

if the fever’s gone by then, you’ll probably let him outside. then you can go get those crêpes, and maybe go to a park, or to the movie theatre, or a fun arcade, before heading back to your apartment to relax. and then he’ll stay over. the day after, too. and the day after that.

living together with you wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks. it wouldn’t be bad at all, actually. 

the thought has been on his mind for a while, now. getting to fall asleep with you every night, eat breakfast with you every morning, see more of your footprints in his life… satoru can’t think of anything he’d like more. maybe he’ll start hinting at it, slowly but surely. if he can lure you into broaching the subject, that would be ideal — but if he has to, he doesn’t mind doing it himself. you’re worth the emotional toll.

you curl into your boyfriend a little further, his jaw now resting cheekily on the top of your head, large palms underneath your shirt and rubbing circles into your bare skin. you have no idea what he’s thinking, no idea about his plans, and he thinks that’s for the best. he knows you’ll indulge him, at the end of the day.

maybe he’ll just ask you, tomorrow. if you say no, he can just blame it on the fever making him delirious.

[sirhamburrger]

five (m. fushiguro x gn!reader)

five seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years of you through megumi fushiguro’s eyes. wc: 1.1k || tags/cw: spoilers for end of jjk manga, reader is a first-year along with the main trio, reader was abandoned as a child and raised by utahime, megumi is bad at feelings, hurt/comfort (i mean this is jjk after all), bad pacing which i will attribute to time not being real, is it obvious i don't read read the manga a/n: first jjk post! late birthday oneshot sorry i wrote for tobio kageyama first >:)

five seconds is the amount of time it takes for megumi fushiguro to register that there’s a new student in the class.

no, not itadori or kugisaki, but yet another new student, a transfer from the kyoto school. you’re cheerful enough, and you seem to be pretty powerful. he can tell that much from the way you carry yourself, and the aura of cursed energy radiating from you. 

gojo introduces you to the class. megumi likes the way your name sounds.

---

five minutes is the amount of time it takes for megumi fushiguro to find that you’re actually really smart.

you’re assigned to sit beside him during lessons, much to the dismay of his other two friends. you give him a little smile, and he tries to smile back, hoping it doesn't look like a grimace. 

gojo asks a question about the three great vengeful spirits of japan. michizane no sugawara, taira no masakado and emperor sutoku. the information comes to the forefront of his mind without him needing to really think about it too much. he opens his mouth, ready as usual to be the only one in the class who knows it -

until he hears you say the answer confidently.

the other two are stunned into silence, and so is he. you look over at their shocked faces, and offer them a bashful grin, like you're embarrassed.

---

five hours is the amount of time it takes for megumi fushiguro to realise he wants to get to know you more.

accompanied by itadori and kugisaki, he comes knocking at the door of your dorm room after school. he finds himself a little lost for words when you answer the door. you look even better out of uniform, and the comfortable clothes you wear complement your skin tone and eyes. 

mumbling something about showing you around the campus, he's glad when kugisaki diverts your attention away from him. he doesn’t miss the knowing wink she shoots him, though, and just grumbles and diverts his gaze.

---

five days is the amount of time it takes for megumi fushiguro to look forward to seeing you.

it’s only your first week at tokyo jujutsu high, and already he feels some sort of connection to you. you were abandoned as a child, raised by sorcerer and teacher utahime iori from the kyoto campus for a few years. it reminds him of how gojo took him in after his own father left, and it brings the two of you closer together.

you trade stories about your unconventional childhoods. living in the dorms, training in cursed energy control and combat from a young age, the things you’ve been through to get to where you are today. you tell him that you’re happy your experiences made you who you are, and that they’ve brought you to him.

he savours this moment more than he cares to let on.

---

five weeks is the amount of time it takes for megumi fushiguro to feel as if he’s known you forever.

you’re with him 24/7 at this point. you go on morning runs with him and itadori before you meet a sleepy kugisaki for breakfast in the common area. you have classes together. you spar with the second-years - none of you ever win, but you come pretty close sometimes. you go on missions together. 

when itadori dies, you grieve with him, but you don't cry. when kugisaki falls asleep on his bed, and when you’re about to doze off in his arms, he cups your face in his hands and holds you close, feeling your warmth, even as he holds back tears of his own.

and when itadori pops out of a box revealing he’s been alive for the past few weeks, you join megumi and kugisaki in rolling your eyes to conceal your happiness.

---

five months is the amount of time it takes for megumi fushiguro to know he wants you in his life for the rest of it.

“as long as she has unshakable character, i won’t ask for more,” he remembers saying to todo once.

and of course he’s thinking about you when he says this.

who else could it be?

---

in the end, five years is the amount of time megumi fushiguro has to wait before he finally, truly tells you how he feels.

being trapped in his own body was not so much of a nightmare, but a trance. a trance in which memories and dreams and nightmares and hopes coagulated into a single stream of thoughts. his worst fears come to life. an unlikely happy ending. the faces of those he loves most. your face seems to pop up most.

truly one of the most unique and unfortunate ways to find out he loves someone.

he spends what feels like eternity in the darkness with you. you speak to him when he cannot muster the strength to even open his mouth, soothe him when he cannot think.

the memories of you and his loved ones are what keeps him alive.

he sees you cry for the first time when he is reunited with everyone else. he’s crying too. you’ve gone through terrible things, all of you. you’ve all lost those you care about most, and megumi doesn’t know if any of you will ever be okay. whether it’ll ever be okay. but looking at you, teary eyes fixated on gojo’s parting letter to you, he gets the sense that it will.

he embraces you, and he doesn’t even have to say anything to tell you he loves you.

a year turns into two. two into three. three into four. miraculously you’re still by his side, unyielding in the face of whatever curses or calamities the world throws at you. one spring day, megumi holds your hand as you sit under the sakura trees, watching the petals drift off in the breeze. and he knows he must tell you now. 

he looks at you, your smile brighter than any light he’s ever known, and finally speaks the words he’s held for so long.

“i love you.”

you turn to him, eyes shimmering with the same certainty he feels.

“i’ve always loved you, megumi.”

five is the number of times he kisses you under the sakura trees that spring day. five is the number of first-year students you co-teach with him, who make fun of him for being all lovey-dovey with you. five is the number of deep blue roses he leaves in a vase by your bedside every week.

and, just as straightforward as he is, five is the number of sentences in his wedding vows to you.

jjk masterlist || general masterlist

© sirhamburrger 2024

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.1)

W/C: 3.5k #full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, soz if anything is clunky asdkjf; i can only reread the same fic so many times for editing sadge

A/N: Decided to separate this into parts since I'm dying to post some of it lol I've held it in a chokehold in the shadows of my WIPs for too long, some of it has to come out before I explode o(--( there is more to come!

tag: @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9

The scripture was incomplete, worn away by age.

…herein lays the God...imprisoned...by...Disgraced One…

Yet the society felt this, the coffin uncovered decades ago, could be an invaluable asset. The vessel was decrepit and ancient, yet still stood strong against the test of time and the wear of nature. Seal papers, no doubt left by a monk of sorts, covered the entirety of its surface, hiding away rotting wood and rusted bands of metal from modern sorcerer's curious eyes.

Few knew why the higher ups kept the vessel under lock and key. Fewer knew why they kept it at all; however, those few understood the importance of such a relic. They'd been the ones to seek it out, to steal it away before malicious forces took it for themselves, warping the supposed deity inside for their own, malevolent purpose, whatever that may be.

And with Ryoumen Sukuna's fingers being found one by one, they could not allow anyone to possess humanity's failsafe: you. A great being imprisoned by the devil.

“Anything?” Gojo trilled, patting Yuuji’s shoulders frantically as he stood behind him and beheld the wooden tub covered in sigils. 

“Uh…” Yuuji tried to focus on Sukuna’s presence inside of him. He didn’t seem intrigued or frightened, nor did he seem too bothered with the idea of them trying to smite him down with a sealed god–he was, however, annoyed that Yuuji continued to poke and prod at him. 

Piss off, runt. 

“Yep. Nope. Sukuna doesn't care,” Yuuji sighed. “He's getting all pissy now that I'm bothering him, though.” 

Gojo laughed and patted Yuuji's shoulders a few more times before all but twirling towards the bound box. “Well, that's a pretty good sign that he's not the one that did this, then! In that case,” he started, walking up to the seal papers keeping everything locked down, “let's pop ‘er open.” 

Before Yuuji could even wonder if that was a good idea, the white-haired witch used an overzealous amount of cursed energy and disintegrated every scrap of seal paper. 

Yuuji braced for impact. Surely something terrible like a bankai or a spirit bomb would send them flying once the coffin came undone. Surely they'd pay for this, for unleashing whatever godly spirit laid locked up for far too long, only to release it back into the modern age and–

“Huh. Weird.”

Yuuji cracked open an eye and saw the dull shine of tattered onyx fur, and his control slipped with a blitz of vertigo. 

Markings flared across his skin as he stormed toward the coffin, heart howling with thoughts and memories crashing through a shared mind; a face he didn't know but knew so well bloomed at the forefront of it all, eyes framed in pointed scarlet, skin bathed in ancient, dappled sunlight.

They reached the edge of the coffin and gripped the edges, splintering the wood as they took in the sight; crimson and curse decay pooled around a figure, curled up and half-submerged. Several black, tattered tails spilled free from the tub, no longer crushed from the force of the lid sealing them inside, but they were bent awkwardly and matted with whatever tincture lay at the bottom.

Then there was the so-called god in the middle of it all–you. Still. Quiet. Curled up in a haori far too big for you. Eyes closed. Almost peaceful.

Confusion tore at Sukuna while nausea ripped through Yuuji; he couldn't bear to look at such a morose scene.

So, Sukuna pushed him aside.

[Heian Era]

You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket. 

You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails. 

Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful? 

Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him. 

They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him. 

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing. 

“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces. 

You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud. 

What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–

“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.

“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.

"They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated.

“They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.” 

The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature. 

The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him. 

“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make. 

Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you. 

That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”

It took some time, but you managed to recover. It was an unnerving experience, with the way Uraume tended to you with sincerity. Perhaps it was genuinity born from their devotion to Ryoumen Sukuna, but you greedily soaked it in, filling your stomach with the care they offered you. 

Sukuna didn't bother much with you, not that you really minded; you were much more content to be fed and forgotten than hunted down by the creature that supposedly took ownership of you without enforcing it. If he didn't cause harm or good, if he simply existed somewhere else and forgot you breathed the same air as him, you'd still be at peace. 

But he was more intrigued than you gave him credit for. 

“Ho? So this is where you scamper off to,” Sukuna hummed, leaning over you as you dozed in the nice little spot you'd made for yourself in the garden, right under the crimson cover of a maple tree. You jumped the slightest bit, your daydreams and sunbathing interrupted by the brute’s silhouette eclipsing the sun, but you settled again quickly. The beast of a man wasn't a cause for panic in your little world, after all. 

“Does it displease you?” You inquired, fixing your hair and straightening out your robes. 

Sukuna held onto an overhead branch of the tree as he looked down at you. “Pets are supposed to play in the yard, aren't they?” He smirked as you pursed your lips and flicked your tail before calming it with hasty pets. “What, you don't like being my pet?” 

“I would not refer to myself as a pet,” you countered as the man sat down with you and leaned against the tree. The king's presence calmed you. With him, you knew you were invincible. 

“Pft. Then pray tell what your damn role is around here.” One set of arms folded behind his head while the other set crossed over his chest. “Pets are freeloaders. Pretty sure that's exactly what you are.”

You huffed. “Freeloader. Tch. How rude.” 

“Lookit that. You're copping an attitude now that you're fat and fed. Used to be so much more polite.” 

“Fat and–I am not fat.” You headbutted his side lightly, something that would make more sense had you been in your fox form. You grinding your forehead against him suggested this was more of a human move, however. “I am perfectly normal now. I was brittle and nonexistent prior to now. This is a grand improvement.”

Sukuna scoffed a laugh and looked down at your head pressed up against his side. “Thanks to me,” he boasted. 

“Yes,” you agreed. You held onto his haori and looked up at him, placid and intense. “It is thanks to you. I would not be here if not for your mercy and intervention.” 

Sukuna raised a brow as he regarded you. “Hm. And what will you do to repay me?” 

“My very presence grants you luck, good fortune and fertility.” You tilted your head. “I already repay you by being here.”

Tch. But the gardens and surrounding lands did look more lush and lively since your arrival, he couldn't deny that fact. But he was a king; he could always ask for more and expect to get it. 

“What more?” He prodded.

Your tail flicked as you thought. “What would you ask of me?” 

“Something you haven't given another,” Sukuna replied. Ugh, your flowery, poetry-y, bullshit speak was rubbing off on him. 

You stared at him, gemstone eyes glinting with earthen hues and shards of gold in the yawning afternoon sun. The leaves bristled just perfectly, letting in dapples of citrus sunlight as if trying to make this moment something special, as if to burn your ethereal presence into history for all eternity. All this, just while you thought of what to give him. Perhaps a riddle is what you wanted. Perhaps purple prose suited your fancy. Perhaps it was something else. 

You sat up, carefully raising yourself onto your knees before leaning up towards the hulking king. He turned his face to you in interest, feeling a sort of natural energy begin to pool around the both of you, reaching from the far depths of the earth and the wide stretch of the sky to converge on your existence as you framed his face with gentle hands, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

It lasted only a second. But a second was long enough to catch the scent of petrichor and petals on your skin, to indulge in the heat of wildfires raging in your soul, to feel the blasphemy of you against him; then, you parted. 

“For now,” you murmured, and Sukuna swore he saw your single tail fan out into nine, “I give you my divine favor, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

You wondered if your favor was enough. He'd been gone some time, off to accept a duel from the snotty shitheads Sukuna had received you from. Apparently, having two of the eldest boys murdered rubbed them the wrong way. Sukuna was glad for it, you knew–the man lived and breathed for a fight. 

Of course, you stayed put. Uraume assured you'd be fine on your own, and Sukuna reminded his staff they'd all be eaten alive by the king himself if anything uncouth were to take place in his absence. It was more so that Sukuna didn't like the idea of idiots touching his stuff than it was the notion you were important to him, from your understanding. 

Regardless, the time alone left you restless. That king made you invincible. Without him, you were nothing more than the scared kit locked away in darkness, never to emerge lest your stubbornness trick them. But things were different here. Everyday was filled with unknowns and uncertainties when the two you'd forged fragile bonds with fell absent. 

So, you thought of how to repay Sukuna. Your divine favor would only do so much, after all–you didn't think a man like that really needed the extra luck, but he seemed more than intrigued by the manner of delivering the blessing; you remembered how he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, shielding you from the inferno burning out of control. He grumbled something low in his chest, just loud enough that you heard: 

You better be here when I get back.

“Ah–” The thrill those catastrophic words gave you nearly led to stabbing yourself with the needle. You tutted and regained focus, continuing to carefully embroider the sleeves of one of Sukuna's many plain black haori.

You learned how to sew and embroider from watching an elder from that clan work her magic on old, tattered clothes. She never spoke to you nor regarded you, but she never turned you away the rare times you watched her fix garments; you thought it was beautiful–the art of turning something mundane into something meaningful.

Though you wondered if Ryoumen Sukuna, the most powerful sorcerer, the most feared man alive, had a desire for anything useless and meaningful. 

The answer came quickly. You'd found yourself void of confidence when the monarch returned to his palace after (obviously) winning whatever duel he'd agreed to; you weren't sure if you were to congratulate him, celebrate him or something more. On top of that, he'd eventually find that haori you'd slaved over for days, and you weren't sure you could take the heartbreak of dismissal. 

However, those fears were quashed when, from a new little secret garden hovel, you spied the man donning the very haori you slaved over; it wasn't a flashy piece, you didn't want to subtract from the marvel that was the king of curses, so you opted for using black, shimmery thread to weave intricate twisting trees and blackened blooms along the sleeve. Only if the design caught the light would one be able to notice it. 

But that was enough for you. Knowing he accepted such a meaningless gift was reassuring of your place in his world. 

So, you finally let Uraume convince you to stay in the room they'd prepared for you. 

“No need to be nervous,” you hummed, that undying urge inside you to take care of something helping you soothe the young woman's nerves. You fixed her hair, your deft fingers carefully slipping strands into place before sliding a decorative pin in to hold it all together. You took a step back to appraise her, Sukuna's latest concubine. 

“I–thank you.” Sachiko blushed fiercely and bowed the slightest bit, not risking a deep bow for the fear of her hair falling loose. “I can see why all the girls love you.” 

You laughed, low and warm. “Well, it's hard not to love someone who takes care of you, no?” Gently, you tilted her chin up and leaned in, carefully examining the red lacquer staining her lips. The colour matched her kimono and the gems in that exquisite hairpin keeping dark locks at bay. “But I'm glad. I know it's difficult to find respite in these times.” 

Sachiko held her breath as she looked over the natural paint of crimson adorning your eyes. “I-I, um–yes, I do agree.” 

You hummed and carefully fixed the smallest smudge on the corner of her mouth. “Mh. So I hope you do your best to please him.” 

“I will!” Sachiko promised. “But–I wish to–may I give you something?” 

“Of course.” 

She gathered her kimono up in her hands and leaned up toward you. You leaned down, expecting a secret or hushed words, but perfect red lips pressed against your skin instead. And you were dumbfounded; you'd never been kissed before. You'd never had a lady show that interest in you. 

Sachiko got down from her tiptoes and hid her mouth with her sleeve. “Just for good luck!” She squeaked before bowing and hastily running through the doors where Sukuna would no doubt be waiting for his woman for the evening’s events. 

You looked at the doors sliding closed and caught a glimpse of Sukuna stood before the young woman, his frame swallowing hers as you looked on. And you caught a glimpse of his eyes, his stare of shock and utter vexation–clearly, he'd seen the short woman give you a kiss for good luck. 

You turned away, choosing to abandon the girl to her demise as your fingers ghosted against your lips in wonder. 

He showed up in your chambers later that night. You were still awake, quietly embroidering another haori; this time, it was for Uraume. They insisted they didn't want to burden you, but they crumbled under your more insistent insistence, and accepted the offer on the condition it looked subtle and muted. 

Sukuna padded toward you, hardly bothering to announce himself or ask to join you (ugh, how annoying) before plopping himself onto the futon beside you, sighing as he laid down. 

“I see you finished early,” you commented, jumping the littlest bit when large hands caught your flickering tails. He didn't hurt you, no; he was simply an overgrown toddler with a penchant for examining whatever wiggled before him. 

“That woman kissed you,” Sukuna answered, unhelpful. “Ruined it.” 

“Ah. Well. I didn't expect it either.” You cleared your throat, feeling an unexpected bubble of embarrassment rise in your chest. “I have…I've never been given a kiss before. Not from what I can recall, at the very least.” 

“The hell are you talking about?” Sukuna grouched. “You planted one on me in the gardens.” 

“Giving is not receiving,” you corrected, flicking your tail so as to hit his face. “I've never given a kiss on another's lips, regardless. Though I find myself wondering why I–” 

You yowled when he yanked your tail like he meant to rip the thing off, and you whirled on him, eyes drawn into slits and chunky fangs bared as you dug your nails into his wrist in an effort to make him let go.

Yet the king looked unfazed. He sat up and  tugged you closer by your tail, yank after yank, ripping an impressive collection of vexed noises from you until his broad hand caught you by the throat. You clawed at his wrist and forearm, scrambling to find purchase, idly wondering if he'd finally had enough of you and sought to put you down after dirtying one of his concubines–

But he kissed you instead. His lips were warm and dry, not quite soft yet not unwelcoming. Sukuna knew what he was doing, too; his tongue licked at your bottom lip before pushing inside to finally taste you and taint you from within just a little bit. 

Your grip on him laxed the slightest bit, and you even eased into his hold as he, too, refused to harm you further. If you weren't aware of his malevolent spirit, you might've thought him gentle in that long, simple moment–a special brand of “gentle” that was wholly Sukuna's. Kind, but jagged around the edges. 

He started pulling back, though, and you followed after his touch like a bewitched maiden chasing after the lips of a lover. You nipped at the air like that'd do something for you, but soon settled on leaning into the hand holding you still, even if your throat scratched and ached because of it. 

You found Sukuna's calm stare watching you when you opened your eyes a crack. For once, you thought he looked content; the cruel, mocking lines of his face had smoothed and relaxed, and that annoying, cocky smirk he'd been born sporting had been replaced with a placid, normal lilt. Even the inferno blazing in crimson depths eased into pools of yawning embers–warm and spirited, yet contained. 

The sight relaxed you despite the confusion it brought to your rationale. 

“That,” Sukuna said, so odd and quiet, but powerful and judicial. “Is your first.” His thumb stroked against the side of your neck, pausing to feel the pitter patter of your heart thrumming under his mercy. “It'd serve you to remember that.” 

You nodded shallowly. “Of course.” 

Pleased, he let go of your quite breakable neck and moved like he was about to get up. You grabbed at his hand and pressed his palm to the side of your face like he was cupping your cheek. Your insistence on touching gave the beast pause, but he settled again, content to let you keep him hostage for as long as you wanted.

And you indulged in the simple favour. You nuzzled into his palm with a very fox-like chitter as a bassy, quiet trill of a purr lazily rolled through your chest, eventually reaching Sukuna himself. It somehow had him feeling content. Relaxed. Like he was basking in the warmth of the sun. 

“I request another,” you chirped, and Sukuna quirked a brow. 

“Another?” 

“Kiss.” 

Sukuna twitched a smirk. “It'll cost ya.” 

“Oh?” 

“Give me another blessing.”

And you agreed.

[konigbabe]

PERISH

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x gn!reader Word count: 1.6k Tags/warnings: no y/n; manga spoilers (post Shibuya timeline); canon-compliant; angst; death; emotional breakdown; hurt/no comfort; loss; grief Summary: For the first time in a long time, Satoru Gojo, the epitome of strength, breaks. Happy start of JJKS2 writing week.

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

November 2018 8 minutes until Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

"Don’t worry, I’ll make it on time. I’m right behind the corner."

"We can wait," Yuji’s voice carries through the car, the static of the Bluetooth speaker occasionally cracking.

It feels like years have passed since you last saw him. Sealed away in the prison realm, Gojo’s state remains a mystery. There’s no telling how being locked in a place where time and space don’t exist can affect even the strongest minds.

That’s what worries you. What if he’ll break? What if he goes crazy on all of you? What if he explodes; wipes you all out with his technique? An endless sea of ‘what if’ swirls inside your mind as you take another turn, the mountains on your left with an ocean view on your right.

"Don’t," you reassure the youngster, "don’t wait any longer."

"You should be here, though," Megumi jumps into the conversation, "You’re closest to that idiot. He’ll want to see you."

His words draw a smile on your lips. It’s finally happening. The sleepless nights are coming to an end with the arrival of your lover.

"Then I’ll just opt for a dramatic entrance while you keep him busy," you respond before tightening your hands on the wheel. A familiar feeling washes over you; sudden knowledge of a new presence. Heart picking up, your eyes search the road for the source while the car’s speed slowly drops.

32 seconds; that’s how long it takes you to locate the source. A curse spirit manifestation stands in the middle of the road, blocking you. Its small hunched build stands a mere meter above the ground; four arms decorated by translucent fins hanging by its body, the prehnite skin glistening in the last rays of today’s sun, giving off a wet, moist appearance.

"Boys," you announce, stopping Yuji’s and Megumi’s bickering while still keeping up the cheerful, light voice in an attempt to not raise suspicions about your current predicament, "don’t wait any longer. Unseal Satoru and stop worrying ‘bout me. It’ll be fine."

Bringing the car to a slow halt, Yuji’s tone shifts into a more attentive one as your name seeps through the speaker before you hang up after one more reassurance.

As you step out of the vehicle, the curse's malevolence engulfs the air, almost tangible in its intensity. It clings to the atmosphere like a poisonous fog, penetrating your senses with a pungent sulfuric odor that threatens to overwhelm you.

Your hand slips inside your jacket to retrieve a carefully preserved seal, reserved for such precarious situations; just like this one.

"I’m sorry," with every footfall, the curse seems to shrink in size, yet its malicious nature grows stronger, the smell of sulfur almost suffocating, "but I’m in a hurry right now and you," pointing the parchment paper towards the spirit, "are in my way."

Swift and precise, your movements carry an aura of practiced precision. With little effort, you firmly press the seal upon the spirit's head, causing it to stumble momentarily before dissipating into thin air, vanquished by the power contained within the sigil.

Yet, the energy lingers.

Stronger than before. Stronger than a second ago. Its absent defense, non-existent attempt to fight or flee…it all makes sense now —

A powerful grip; a strong hand adorned with talons as keen as the finest blades dig into your shoulder as an inhuman force pushes you to the side.

As you're thrust aside, your vision catches a subtle glimmer of chrysolite, a hue that seeps into your perception; its scales are sturdy, each edge honed to a dangerous sharpness. Driven by instinct and the will to protect yourself, you reach out, your hand making contact with the curse spirit’s scaly hide.

The jagged edges of its scales cut into the delicate flesh of your fingers, leaving trails of crimson in their wake.

— it was a decoy.

Your body collides with the unforgiving side of the mountain, back meeting the rough and unyielding surface. A symphony of pain resonates within your bones, their structural integrity compromised as multiple cracks reverberate through your form.

Gasping for breath, your body instinctively seeks solace, but find none amidst the terrain. The curse doesn’t wait either. Swiftly moving forward, it lunges at you. Unforgiving. With a clear intent to strike. To kill.

During Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

There is no pain. The moment the curse’s hand breaches the barrier of your chest, you expect it. Expect some kind of visceral reaction. But there’s none — a gentle pinch, akin to a fleeting touch when the sharp claws first pierce through the protective layers of your breastplate. A slight discomfort upon the feeling of having a foreign object that’s found its place within the confines of your ribs. The barrier of your rib cage offers minimal resistance, yielding to the relentless advance that seeks to reach the very core of your being. The heart.

It all feels confusing.

"Kenjaku sends his regards," it whispers, the words slurred by the razor-sharp fangs that protrude from its mouth.

October 31, 2018 — 8:09 PM

"What’s the worst that can happen?"

Satoru saunters around the corner of the table, his presence punctuated by the audible slurping of juice from a small cartoon container. All while your palms rest on top of the said furniture, fingernails tapping at the surface.

The news has spread fast through the jujutsu community, faster than wildfire. Whispers of an unknown curtain cast around Shibuya an hour ago, trapping all non-sorcerers, innocent civilians, inside its insidious grasp with only one demand: Bring Satoru Gojo.

"Don’t say it like that, Satoru," you turn to face the man whose casual and dismissive demeanor only adds fuel to the worries setting inside your bones.

"They’re a bunch of curses," his hand finds its place on your hip bone while placing the empty container away, "Some special grades, yeah, but they’re weak compared to me. I’ll deal with them, save some people in the meantime, and bam," he snaps his fingers loudly, "We can go home. Get that sunset date you’ve been babbling about. Life is good," he finishes with a kiss on the crown of your head.

Life is good.

You watch the sun dip below the horizon behind the curse spirit’s back, indulging the sinister being in a halo glow.

Yeah. In the end, life was good.

2 hours and 48 minutes after Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

For a moment, he stands still. Unable to look down; frozen in time. The weight of it all seems to bear down upon his shoulders – now that Sukuna’s taken over Megumi’s body, Nanami’s and Yaga’s death, Suguru’s body being used as a vessel, the slow crumbling fall of the Jujutsu world – and now you; being gone.

Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of the current time. Yet even his immense power proves futile as the people he loves keep dying on him…because of him.

A burden that threatens to crush him beneath its insurmountable gravity.

The air around him hangs heavy with sorrow, as if the very essence of grief has manifested itself in the atmosphere. A storm of emotions swirls within him; a combination of disbelief, anguish and a gnawing ache that gnashes at the core of his being.

He clenches his fists, fingers trembling with a mixture of sorrow and determination. In that agonizing moment, he finds the strength to finally lower his gaze, to confront the devastating truth that lies at his feet.

Everyone holds their breaths, the weight of his misery echoing in the silence as his eyes meet the lifeless visage of the one he holds dearest.

Of you.

Hand reaching out, his fingers graze the once-soft flesh of your hand; now cold and stiff. It serves as a confirmation of reality. There’s no getting you back, no way Shoko can nurture you back to health with her technique.

You’re gone.

And in that harrowing instant, the façade crumbles. The walls he built to contain his pain come crashing down, and Satoru Gojo, the epitome of strength, breaks.

Crumbling down on his knees, the vulnerability that spills forth from his broken form is raw and unrestrained. Only a handful of those closest to him stand behind to witness the symphony of torment that pierces the silence. Tears stream down his face, each drop carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words, moments you two could’ve spent together.

One hand covering his mouth to silence the guttural sounds, the other reaches out to you, tenderly cradling your lifeless head upon his lap. He clings to the fragile hope that if he could provide just enough warmth and love, you might return to him.

Yuji looks around the room, at the people who silently observe their friend fall apart. Taking a step towards the hunched man, a soft grasp stops him mid step; Kiyotaka shakes his head, pushing his glasses back in place as Shoko looks down. For the first time, she’s unable to figure out her classmate, her childhood friend, the man whose side she’s always stayed by.

"Gojo," Yuji doesn’t allow Kiyotaka to stop him. Believing in what’s right, he stands behind his teacher’s back.

Hand laying on the tense muscle of his shoulder, he doesn’t attempt to comfort Satoru with any words — no words in this universe would bring you back anyway. Instead, his hand just rests there. Unmoving. Gentle.

"Who did it," his words cause Shoko to look back up as Satoru, stone-faced and stoic, speaks in a firm, devoid voice. Imagines of unspeakable horror flashes in his mind as he stands up, towering over the wide-eyed Yuji.

"Tell me now," his eyes search Kiyotaka’s, voice filled with undeniable authority, "I’ll kill them, kill them all."

[the-trash-site]

My favourite type of fanfiction at the moment has been 'y/n is reincarnated into fandom to save the characters from canon!'. (currently mainly reading for JJK and MHA as that's what I'm obsessed with.) There's something so pure about the plot and how the author has fun with it. With scenes where yn is lowkey simping or the actual character of the fandom being dorky.

I think the appeal (besides the amazing writing and passion given into each chapter of these fanfic, rec list below) of this is how straightforward it can be. You already know the characters, you know the canon. All you learn when first reading is what ability you get and how you fit within the world. Which is usually attending the school or growing up with the character.

But mostly, what I love is seeing the butterfly effect and the new dynamics it can create. But lately, I can't help but wonder about a fanfic that has the vibe of 'careful what you wish for'. And seeing what ripples that could make. (I write mostly of JKK and MHA but these ideas could be apply to AOT or Demon Slayer or any other fandom.)

I find it hilarious if instead, the y/n is older than the main group. Imagine being the milf/dilf of MHA. Being the same age as All Might or old enough to adopt characters like Shigaraki.

Or being the in-between age of Deku and the teachers. Where your options are; hanging out with the League of Villains, working hard asf to be a top hero to be around Hawks/the plot. Or becoming a teacher/assistant to watch over class 1A to change canon. I mean, what else are you meant to do in your early twenties? You literally have to force yourself into the plot lol

Oh, you have a favourite character, like Nanami, Gojo or Choso you want to meet? Here you go, a new life as their child! (probably be a sibling for Choso lol) Oh you met you wanted to rizz them up and treat them right? Nope, sorry, you're forced to tag along and face any challenges that would come as being a child to a; Jujutsu sorcerer/ the strongest/ a half-curse spirit.

Oh, this time you specified the thought of being dating/married to Aizawa/Geto/Toji as you died? Kinda weird but here you go! Your new life as their spouse! But only, you don't gain memories from this new life, as you only remember about the canon. Don't mind the grief and odd looks the character is giving you, their amnesia darling. It's not like you can't remember the wedding you two shared. (for maximum angst, they have the kids and you're just clueless about being a parent and saving the canon. yikes)

Okay, but what if you get super lucky? You get to be with the main character and do real help! Everything is fine in JJK but Sukuna is dead set on killing you. Every chance he gets, he uses until he kills you. But it's only after he brought you back that you learn it's because he actually loves you. After all, you're the reincarnated of his reincarnated dead wife. (not confusion at all, lol) He was just pissed that you dead centuries ago and couldn't have the life you two planned. It was his way of getting even. Definitely not annoying when trying to save characters.

Okay, for real now. Everything is perfectly fine...But what's this? Yuji and Izuku are actually yandere for you? Oh, that wouldn't change canon that much, right?

Anyway, here are my favourites fanfics;

Otherworldy attraction by Kilkyo851 JJK | on AOE | multiple pairings

When I catch you Gege by Quinnyundertow JJK | on AOE | multiple pairings

Daybreak by sexy-captain-rexy (smolkatsudon) Star wars | poly Obi-Wan, Anakin Skywalker and reader pairing| on AOE

Promise: Thorin x Fíli x reader Hobbit | love angle with true pairing haven't been shown | on AOE (this one is interesting as reader has more visions than knowledge from media.)

Changing History [MHA! Various F!Reader] by summerblack | MHA | on Qoutev

The Future's Keeper [MHA!Various x F!Reader] by summerblack | MHA | on Quotev

[augusgus]

what turns them on (m.)

pairings: gojo, geto, toji, sukuna x reader

tags: god complex, humiliation play, monsterfucking, voyeurism, predator prey kink, fear play, brat breaking taming, degradation

☆ GOJO ☆

honestly, he has it all. He's talented, he's good-looking, he's charming. He's got you wrapped around his finger and the look of pure devotion whenever he has you kneeling in front of him gets him going like nothing else. C'mon, little cock whorshipper, no need to be so eager to get him in your pretty mouth. He's got you, don't you worry, and if you're all good and compliant he might even let you get off on his boot while he paints your face with his cum.

☆ GETO ☆

has the fantasy of having you fucked by his own cursed spirits while he watches, getting off on how they treat you, how helpless you are in face of such depravity and perversion and that ultimately he's the one in control of the whole situation as he's the one who controls the curses. And don't you like being good for him, all pretty and messed up like that? He only gives you a gentle smile when you search for his gaze with tears in your eyes.

☆ TOJI ☆

loves the hunt, the adrenaline coursing through his veins when he gives you a headstart to get away from him and sees the wide-eyed look on your face. He can be a patient man, he'll give you a taste of how it feels to escape, to run, but in the end he'll always find you. Look behind all you want, it only gives him the opportunity to see your expression when he grabs you by the neck with a wild smile and mounts you.

☆ SUKUNA ☆

he's used to obedience, he expects obedience. So when you try to keep your dignity around him, he finds immense joy in breaking you. He might be annoyed at your insolence and pride but it only makes him want to see you grovel at his feet all the more. You have no choice but to submit, and he loves seeing the dread on your face when you eventually realise. You're nothing without him, know your place little slut.

Do consider leaving feedback or a reblog if you enjoyed it <3

. ☆ ☆ ☆ .

[arminsumi]

when is daddy coming home ?

g. satoru ⋅ fem wife reader

note: WOW i'm so sorry for writing this anyways tagging @satoruhour for no reason except i'm evil 👍 ik we need fluff comfort rn but i had to get out at least one devastating post. anyways. enjoy the suffering!!

warnings — heavy pure angst prepare to suffer and cry more than you already are, implied death, chapter 236 spoilers

playme ♪ oh god it's you i watch tv with / when i wake up i see you with me... as long as i'm here, no one can hurt you

scurrying around the kitchen, there's no free time when you've got a little mouth to feed. and you smile when you see your cute little girl devouring the bowl of steaming food. it's satoru's favorite, he asked you to make it today especially and you don't know why.

an hour goes by. you observe your child drawing a scribbly heart.

" what are you drawing ? " you ask, and she replies with " something for daddy. "

" it looks beautiful. who's that ? "

" that's you. and that's daddy. and that's me. "

" are we inside a heart ? "

" yup ! we're inside daddy's heart, because it has the most space. "

your heart feels a peculiar pang, and you look out the window. how strange, you felt like your whole world caved in for that split second.

" mommy, when is daddy coming home ? " your little girl asks innocently.

" soon, angel. "

you ring his number.

gojo satoru ~ i'm busy right now, leave a message — ow !

you remember the day he made this prerecorded messgae. his ow at the end is a reaction to your little girl biting him when she was teething, that was years and years ago now.

the little bell on her bracelet sounds. it's the bracelet that you and gojo wove together in high school; your little one had found it in your memory box and loved it so much that she asked if she could have it as her birthday gift.

that bell chimes as she moves her wrist to color in satoru's eyes with the prettiest blue crayon. and for some reason, it sounds louder than ever; you stare at it. why are tears coming forth?

the tv is playing. the birds are chirping. the world keeps spinning. but your world? it feels like it broke apart. and why? what was this feeling? you felt like... like something devastating has just happened.

you try satoru's phone again, wandering aimlessly into the kitchen. it feels eerily quiet and joyless.

gojo satoru ~ i'm busy right now, leave a message — ow !

you try it again.

gojo satoru ~ i'm busy right now —

you try it again.

gojo satoru ~

gojo satoru ~

gojo satoru ~

he was mimicking the way you always said his name in high school.

and you start breaking down crying, trying and trying repeatedly as if it would change anything. you don't need someone to knock on your door to tell you he's gone, because you can feel it; his spirit isn't in this world anymore. you and him were completely connected, a string between the two of you that linked your hearts and subconscious no matter the distance between them.

when you look up at the sky, there's an endless blue. but all you really think of when you see that sky is his eyes. when you first met, that was one of the first things you told him.

" your eyes put the skies to shame. "

and he replied with something so cheesy that for some reason made you fall in love with him right there.

" aw. well, you put the angels to shame. "

the food goes cold. in his last moment, when he detached from the world, he was thinking about returning home to you. that's why he had asked you to make his favorite, after all. he thought it would be nice to enjoy such a simple thing after saving the world.

it's funny, even if he would have saved the world, he wouldn't have been able to come home to boast about it to you; because you never knew that side of him.

you never knew he was gojo satoru.

you just knew he was your gojo satoru, your doting husband.

when those eyes stared up at the blue sky for the last time, he thought;

at least i got to say i love you to you this morning, and give you that big kiss. treasure it baby, there will be no more now.

rest well honoured one.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, chapter one of ten

wc. 2.7K

prologue | part 2

The decision settled in your heart like a stone—cold, hard, and undeniable. You couldn’t stay at Jujutsu High anymore, not after everything that had happened. There was nothing left for you here but the constant reminder of Gojo’s rejection, and the emptiness it left inside you. Suguru Geto had offered a new path, one that resonated with the bitter anger building in your chest. It was risky, dangerous even, but at this point, you didn’t care. What did you have to lose?

The world outside Jujutsu High seemed vast and unforgiving, but it was nothing compared to the loneliness you felt within its walls. Geto’s name was whispered among the students with fear and disdain, but you saw something different now. He had the strength to break away, to challenge the system that had let him down, and if anyone could understand the pain of rejection, it was him.

The first step was to find him, which was easier said than done. Geto was no longer a visible presence in the sorcerer world. He had gone underground, building his own network of cursed users and spirits. The whispers about his whereabouts were few and far between, but you clung to the faintest rumors like lifelines, searching for any clue that would lead you to him.

Your chance finally came one evening, as you overheard two upperclassmen talking in hushed tones about a recent sighting of Geto. They mentioned a remote area where cursed energy had been felt, a place known for being a hideout for rogue sorcerers. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

You left that night, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. You knew the consequences of what you were about to do—if anyone found out, you’d be labeled a traitor, just like Geto. But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was getting away from the pain that had consumed you and finding a new purpose.

The journey was long and arduous, taking you through unfamiliar streets and rural roads. With each step, the doubt in your mind grew louder. What if he didn’t want you? What if he turned you away, just like Gojo had? The thought of facing yet another rejection made your stomach twist in knots, but you pushed forward. You had to know. You had to try.

Finally, after what felt like na eternity, you arrived at the rumored hideout—a dilapidated building on the outskirts of na abandoned village. The air around the area was thick with cursed energy, almost suffocating. You hesitated at the threshold, fear creeping up your spine, but you steeled yourself and stepped inside.

The interior was dark, lit only by the faint glow of cursed energy radiating from various objects strewn about. You could sense the presence of others, though you couldn’t see them. Shadows moved in the corners of the room, watching you, but you kept your focus straight ahead.

And then, you saw him.

Suguru Geto stood at the far end of the room, his back turned to you as he spoke quietly with one of his followers. Even from this distance, his presence was commanding, the air around him heavy with power. There was something about him that felt both intimidating and strangely familiar, as if you were looking at the reflection of everything you had been feeling—the bitterness, the anger, the sense of abandonment.

He turned around slowly, his gaze landing on you with a piercing intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. His dark eyes seemed to see right through you, reading every thought and emotion as if they were laid bare before him. For a moment, you wondered if you had made a mistake—if this had been a foolish, reckless decision.

But you had come too far to turn back now.

“What do we have here?” Geto’s voice was smooth and calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it. He studied you, his expression unreadable. “You’re not one of mine.”

You swallowed, your throat dry, and forced yourself to speak. “I came to find you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I—I’ve been studying at Jujutsu High, but I can’t stay there anymore. I’ve seen… I’ve read about what you believe in. And I… I want to join you.”

There was a flicker of amusement in Geto’s eyes as he raised na eyebrow. “You want to join me?” he repeated, his tone laced with skepticism. “And what exactly do you think you have to offer?”

Your heart sank at his words. You knew you were nothing compared to the powerful sorcerers that surrounded him. You were just a student, someone who had been cast aside by the very person you had admired most. But you also knew that your desire to serve his cause, to belong somewhere, burned stronger than anything else.

“I don’t have much,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I’m not the strongest sorcerer, and I don’t have any followers. But I understand how it feels to be abandoned, to be rejected by the world. I’m ready to serve your purpose, whatever it takes.”

For a long moment, Geto said nothing, his eyes never leaving yours. The silence was suffocating, each second stretching into eternity. You stood there, exposed and vulnerable, waiting for his judgment. In that moment, it felt as if your entire life hung in the balance. If he accepted you, you would have a new purpose, a new place to belong. But if he rejected you…

Finally, after what felt like na eternity, Geto’s expression softened, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“You’re eager,” he said quietly. “That much is clear. But eagerness alone isn’t enough. My cause isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s dangerous, and it requires a level of conviction that few possess.”

You nodded quickly, desperation creeping into your voice. “I understand. I’ll prove myself, if you give me the chance.”

Geto regarded you for another long moment, as if weighing his options. Then, with a slight nod, he turned away from you, signaling the conversation was over. “Very well,” he said. “If you want to join me, go back to Jujutsu High. Pack your things. Leave everything behind. Once you’ve done that, come back. If you’re serious, I’ll know.”

Your heart leapt in your chest at his words—he was giving you a chance. It wasn’t a full acceptance, not yet, but it was something. You bowed your head quickly in gratitude before turning to leave.

As you stepped out of the hideout and into the cool night air, your mind raced with a mixture of excitement and fear. You had taken the first step toward a new life, toward leaving behind everything that had hurt you.

Now all that was left was to return to Jujutsu High, pack your things, and leave for good. There was no turning back now.

The night was unnervingly quiet as you made your way back to Jujutsu High, the soft rustling of leaves the only sound accompanying you. The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows across the ground. Your mind buzzed with the events that had just unfolded—Geto had accepted you, even if it was only tentative. The prospect of belonging to something, of having a purpose again, gave you a strange sense of comfort, but it was wrapped in na unsettling realization.

To fully embrace this new path, you had to leave everything behind.

As you approached the school grounds, a wave of nostalgia hit you. The familiar hallways, the training grounds, even the library where you had spent so many hours—all of it felt like a distant memory, as if you were already na outsider looking in. These places had once held significance, but now they were nothing more than relics of a past life. You had made up your mind; you would abandon all of it for a chance at something more—something that could give meaning to the ache you carried inside.

The dormitory was dark and still when you returned to your room. Your belongings were strewn about, a quiet reminder of the life you had lived here. You hesitated for a moment, standing in the doorway and letting your gaze drift over the small space that had been your home for so long. It was strange how quickly it all felt irrelevant.

With a deep breath, you began packing your things. You moved with mechanical precision, folding clothes and stuffing them into your bag, taking only what you absolutely needed. As your hands grazed over small personal items, you realized how little they meant now. There was no point in holding onto these things—mementos of a life you no longer wanted to be part of. A gift from a classmate, a framed photo of your team during a mission, a charm you had once carried for protection—they all seemed to mock you now.

Your hand hovered over the chocolates you had made for Gojo, the same ones he had so casually rejected weeks ago. They had been sitting untouched for so long, the once carefully crafted gift now rotting and forgotten. A bitter taste filled your mouth as you stared at the box, the last remnant of your foolish hopes - now laying in your trashcan.

As you zipped up your bag, you felt a strange sense of liberation. You were finally doing it—leaving behind the person you had been, the person who had been too afraid to act, too afraid to take control of her own fate. You were stepping into a new future, one where you could be strong, where your pain had a purpose. Suguru Geto had shown you that.

You slung the bag over your shoulder, taking one last look at the room. It felt distant already, like a ghost of a life you once knew. Without hesitation, you turned and left, walking silently through the darkened halls of Jujutsu High. Every step away from the dorms felt like shedding na old skin, leaving behind the memories and emotions that had weighed you down for so long.

Your feet moved automatically, each step taking you further from Jujutsu High and further from Gojo, you didn’t dare look back, afraid that if you did, you might falter, might hesitate. You had made your choice. You had committed to this path, and there was no turning back now.

The night air was cold against your skin, and with every step, the familiar halls and grounds of Jujutsu High faded into the distance. There was na ache in your chest, a deep, gnawing pain that threatened to overwhelm you, but you forced it down, telling yourself that this was the right choice. That Geto would understand, that his ideals would give you the strength you needed to find purpose.

By the time you reached the outskirts of the town, the sky had started to lighten, a soft glow spreading across the horizon as dawn approached. You kept your head down, avoiding the few early risers who were beginning their day. No one paid you any attention. To them, you were just another traveler, just another person passing through.

Your destination was clear—the same dilapidated building you had found before, where Geto’s presence had been strongest. The cursed energy in the area was unmistakable, and the faint pulse of it called to you like a beacon, guiding you back to him.

As you walked, the reality of what you were about to do began to settle in. You were leaving everything—your friends, your teachers, your life as a jujutsu sorcerer behind. The people you had trained with, the ones who had fought alongside you, they would all consider you a traitor. But for some reason, that didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. You were tired of being invisible, of feeling like na outsider in your own life. With Geto, maybe you would finally belong somewhere.

After hours of walking, you finally reached the hideout once again. The building loomed before you, dark and foreboding, just as it had before. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there the first time, as if the entire area was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

You hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside.

This time, the space felt different. The shadows seemed heavier, and the cursed energy more oppressive. You could sense other presences here—Geto’s followers, cursed spirits lurking just out of sight, their eyes on you, watching, waiting. But you didn’t waver. You had already made your decision.

As you ventured deeper into the building, you found him in the same spot as before, standing with his back to you, his long dark hair spilling over his shoulders. He was speaking with one of his followers in a low voice, but the moment you entered the room, his attention shifted. Without turning around, he acknowledged your presence with a quiet, “You came back.”

His voice sent a shiver down your spine—not out of fear, but because of the power it carried, the certainty in his words. It was so unlike the doubt you had felt at Jujutsu High. Here, in Geto’s world, there was no room for second-guessing. Everything he said, everything he believed, had a purpose. You wanted to be part of that.

“I did,” you replied, your voice steady despite the nervousness you felt. “I left everything behind, just like you said.”

Geto finally turned to face you, his eyes sharp and assessing. He looked you over, taking in the sight of you with your bag slung over your shoulder, your expression determined despite the fear you tried to hide. A slow, almost approving smile curled at the corner of his lips.

“And why, exactly, should I take you in?” he asked, his tone calm but laced with a challenge. “What can you offer me that my other followers can’t?”

You had expected this question, but it didn’t make answering it any easier. You had thought about this moment the entire way back, rehearsing what you would say, but now that you stood in front of him, words failed you. What could you offer? You weren’t the strongest sorcerer, you weren’t experienced in battle. All you had was your conviction, your desire to follow him.

“I—I’m not the strongest,” you admitted, your voice faltering for just a moment before you regained your composure. “But I’m ready to dedicate myself to your cause. I’ve seen how the world works, how it doesn’t care about people like us. I want to change that, to be part of something greater.”

Geto’s eyes remained fixed on you, his expression unreadable. He studied you for what felt like na eternity, and you could feel the weight of his judgment pressing down on you. Then, finally, he spoke again, his voice softer, but no less commanding.

“Conviction is important,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “But dedication without strength is a liability.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, Geto raised a hand to silence you. “Still, you’ve come this far, and I can see that you’re serious. I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself.”

Relief flooded through you, though it was quickly tempered by the realization of what that might entail. Geto wasn’t someone who handed out second chances easily. Whatever he asked of you, it wouldn’t be simple.

“You’ll stay here, for now,” he continued, gesturing to the room around you. “Train with my followers, learn from them. When the time comes, we’ll see if you’re truly ready to stand by my side.”

You nodded, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement. This was what you had wanted—a chance, a purpose, something to fight for. And now, Geto had given it to you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, bowing your head in gratitude.

Before you could fully process it, a voice rang out from the entrance of the hideout, sharp and commanding.

“So, this is where you ran off to.”

Your heart froze in your chest.

Satoru Gojo stood at the threshold, his blindfold gone, revealing his piercing blue eyes that glowed with a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper, more intense.

He had found you.

notes: thank you for reading the first chapter! if you wanna be tagged just let me know!

taglist: @username23345 @arminswifee @tomiokasecretlover @ffyona1214 @tojirin @eggrollforyou @ironicsss

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[awearywritersworld]

"i'll always come when you call"

gojo satoru x reader summary: when you're gravely injured on a mission, your best friend finds you just in time w/c: 1.35k tags/warnings: friends to lovers, obviously reader is hurt but nothing is terribly graphic, though there are lots of mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, no use of y/n, lots of emotional distress for gojo, he punches a wall, ft. a very worried yuuji and gumi a/n: home boy is in pieces at the thought of losing us. i make myself emotional masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

it wasn't supposed to go like this. not hardly, not half.

a simple mission turned into an ambush. what was originally one mid-grade cursed spirit became several. you lost count somewhere around the fifth.

rain patters against your body, washing away the crimson that's seeping from numerous wounds. at first everything hurt, but now all you feel is a foreboding numbness spreading throughout your limbs.

you hardly remember slipping your phone from your pocket or dialing his number when you hear your best friend's voice ring out from the speaker. "hey, princess. how'd it go?"

you try to speak, but no sound comes out. eventually, you manage a choked cough and the faint sensation of liquid flowing from the corner of your mouth accompanies the effort.

you barely make out his worried tone calling your name before your phone clatters to the ground, screen going black as it lies in a puddle of pale red.

you fight to keep your eyes open, you really do, but you're incredibly drowsy and the coldness has begun to ebb away, replaced by a comforting warmness.

you always imagined the light that welcomes you into the afterlife would be a blinding white, but instead, it's a familiar shade of blue.

an unsettling feeling had made a home in the pit of gojo's stomach long before he received your call. he's pacing, his eyebrows furrowed with inexplicable worry when his ringtone fills the room.

relief floods through him once he sees your name on the screen, but it's short lived when your end of the line remains quiet. he hears you sputter and it isn't a second later that he teleports to the city where your assigned mission is.

his heart is hammering away, a dull thudding in his ears, as he follows the traces of cursed energy that grow stronger with each long stride. he covers ground impressively fast, though as soon as his eyes land on your body, it's as if everything shifts to slow motion.

it feels like he's fighting against an invisible force as he approaches the spot where you lay. he can hear someone howling your name and it's not until he feels the hoarseness in throat that he recognizes the voice as his own. his knees crash painfully into the pavement at your side.

the situation is worse than he could have imagined. it's looks like you, sure, but it can't be you. not when your eyes have just fluttered shut, no movement beneath your lids. not when your body is still, no steady rise and fall of your chest. and certainly not when it looks as if you're—

"wake up," he begs, shaking your shoulders. "please, wake up!"

not wasting another moment, he gathers your limp body in his arms, one arm behind curling around your shoulders, the other hooking behind your knees.

he teleports directly into the infirmary and shoko nearly scolds him before she takes in your dreadful state. the cigarette that was hanging between her lips falls to the floor. "get her on the bed."

she moves around the room in haste, pulling drawers and cabinets open wildly.

"she's going to be okay, right? tell me that she's going to be fine," he implores, panicking when the brunette fails to reassure him. "..shoko!"

"get out, satoru!" she barks. she can't concentrate, not while one of her oldest friends is hysterical with worry and the other is lying there half dead.

"please, i can't—"

"now!"

he stares at you for a moment before turning on his heel and retreating to the hall. his fist meets the wall with such force, the drywall crumbles to the floor. gojo himself follows suit soon thereafter.

the commotion catches the attention of yuuji and megumi, who round the corner just seconds later.

"sensei—" yuuji begins to question, but the words die in his throat.

gojo's crouched down, his face buried in his hands. they're still covered in your blood. he wants to scream and yell and curse the world, but instead, he clenches his jaw so fiercely it's a wonder his teeth don't crack under the pressure.

the boys share a look, both startled by the present state of their usually frivolous teacher. neither of them need to ask who's behind that door, they know there's only one person who could elicit such a reaction from gojo.

megumi approaches him cautiously, swallowing his own concern, and places a hand on his shoulder. "she'll be okay."

the white haired man doesn't look up, just nods weakly in acknowledgement. megumi joins yuuji who is already sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the wall, and the three of them wait together in silence.

gojo hardly moves until the infirmary door opens, which makes him rise so quickly it leaves him dizzy. shoko surveys the three of them before speaking.

"she's.. she's still unconscious, but you should be with her. she's been calling for you in her sleep—"

she scarcely finishes before gojo makes his way through the door. shoko stays in the hallway to update yuuji and megumi, giving the two of you a bit of privacy.

pulling up a chair beside you, he threads his fingers between yours, your skin still frightfully cool. though it's not until he hears you mumble his name that he truly falls apart.

his free hand flies to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his sobs, his shoulders shaking. this all could have gone very differently and the thought makes him sick to his stomach. he should have gone with you, or at the very least, he should have gotten to you faster.

"'toru?" your raspy voice fills his ears.

when he looks up to find you peering at him through tired eyes, the tension that'd been weighing heavily in his chest dissipates and he exhales deeply. still, his voice trembles. "hey, sweetheart."

every part of you aches, but it's nothing compared to the guilt you feel upon seeing gojo like this— his eyes red and swollen, your blood painted across his hands and face.

you have a vague memory of everything that happened. you remember just barely exorcising the last cursed spirit. you remember being sure you weren't going to survive and using your last bit of strength to call him. "you found me."

he nods, his hand squeezing yours. "i thought i was too late.. i.. i thought i'd lost you."

his voice cracks and it nearly shatters your heart, tears welling up in your eyes. "i'm so sorry, 'toru. i'm sorry i wasn't strong enough, t-that you had to come save me."

you attempt to sit up, but he puts a hand to your shoulder and shakes his head. "don't you dare apologize. i'll always come when you call and i'll always be there when you need me. you have to know that."

the intensity of his gaze forces you to look away and the conviction in his voice makes you feel woozy. thinking about it, there really never had been an instance in which gojo wasn't there for you. he's the person you've sought out time and time again and he's never once let you down.

his hand finds your face and he cups your cheek gently, his thumb wiping a tear from beneath your eye.

"i love you," you blurt out.

you stare at each other with wide eyes and the seconds tick by markedly until he finally whispers, "say it again."

"i love you."

he had no idea how much he needed to hear those three words fall from your lips until he nearly lost the chance forever. truthfully, it makes him feel a bit foolish, but now was hardly the time to dwell on that.

he smiles for the first time in hours, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. "i love you, too."

and he always has— he knows that now.

"you should get some rest, angel," he suggests tenderly. "i'll be right here when you wake up."

[saccharinesatoru]

You're not scared... are ya? (m)

Pairing: non-sorcerer Gojo Satoru/Geto Suguru x reader (afab)

Genre: Ghostface/Halloween  + Smut

Word count: 7k

Summary: You’ve always loved Halloween. But this year, you and your boyfriend, Suguru, are planning something a little spookier than usual… Who doesn’t love a good scare? You have to get in the Halloween spirit, right? Turns out, the trick is on you and the treats are for your boyfriend and his blonde-haired, blue-eyed friend who seems to like you a little more than a friend should… 

Warnings: uhhh i guess technically non-con…? It depends on how you look at it, i guess (let me know what you think so i can tag it appropriately), fingering (f receiving), oral (m and f receiving), throat f*cking, penetration (vaginal, f receiving), choking, knife play, blood play, biting and hickeys, threesome, kissing (satosugu (if you’re not down with that uh… sorry lmao maybe not the fic for you)), primal play, use of ghostface mask and chasing/hide and seek, degradation and praise, sensory deprivation/play (blindfolds, gags), bondage (f receiving)... i think that’s it lol oh and this is like 70% proof read I'm sorry I just wanted to get it out

A/N: sorry this is late ! i meant to have this out before halloween (at the very least), but the timing just didn’t work out

xx Jay

---

Halloween was easily one of your favorite times of year.

You loved the autumn season in general. From the colors of the leaves to the cool chill in the air, October in general had a special place in your heart. And it certainly didn’t hurt that the brisk weather gave you an excuse to cuddle up with your boyfriend, not that you really needed another reason in the first place. 

There was another aspect of Halloween you loved, of course…

“No way,” Suguru states. “I’m not doing that.”

He didn’t even look up from his phone upon your horror movie reenactment request. He continued to type away on his phone, no doubt texting his white-haired best friend whom he’s questionably close to. In fact, before you two got together, you were fully convinced your now boyfriend was dating his best friend, Satoru. You even remember the laughs they each let out when you finally brought up the matter. 

After many questions asked, Suguru confirmed he was, in fact, single. And the rest was history. 

Funnily enough, Suguru later confessed to you during one drunken night that he hadn’t made a move on you originally since he thought Satoru was interested in you too. When you tried asking him about it the next day, unsure if the memory was fabricated, he said he didn’t know what you were talking about.

But you can’t imagine life any other way. Suguru truly was your other half.

There’s only one glaring difference between the two of you when it comes to the Halloween season…

“I’m not dressing up in some ghost mask thing and chasing you around the apartment in the dark.”

Your boyfriend, ever the dream-crusher, didn’t share your same passion for horror movies. 

“It’s ghostface, Suguru,” you correct. “And, come on, baby. Don’t you wanna make your lovely girlfriend’s dreams come true?” When in doubt, go for the guilt trip. 

He just lets out a sigh and looks up at the ceiling in disbelief. 

“Baby, if you’re having dreams like those, then I’ll be chasing you to a therapist’s office instead,” he laughs. “Besides, what’s the appeal in this so-called “ghostface” stalking in the first place? Is this the result of some sort of repressed trauma I don’t know about?”

“Haha, very funny,” you scowl. “But, no, this isn’t about some secret, horrifically painful backstory. Think of it as… primal play.”

His neck snaps back down and catches your gaze.

 “Primal play?” he asks you incredulously with a gleam in his eyes. “How come you’ve never told me about this little secret of yours, hm? Next thing I know, you’re gonna be telling me about some piss kink of yours.”

You slap his shoulder, and he laughs at your disgusted expression. 

“Hey!” He raises his hands in mock surrender. “You never know! Maybe you shouldn’t knock it ‘till you try it! You’ll just have to explore that side of your sexuality without me… some sort of solo piss-centric masturbation.”

Slapping his shoulder again, you pull away from his side and look him in the eye. “I can’t really explain it all that well, but the idea of being chased and the fear of getting caught…” you trail off and lean to whisper in his ear, “It gets me so wet that I’m dripping.”

You don’t need to look at his face to know his eyes widen and his mouth parts at your comment. You’ve got him right where you want him now. Based on the weighted silence as Suguru processes your words, you know he’s just about folded like a house of cards. Chase you around in a ghostface mask? Hell, he might even shave his head if you asked him too (not that you would ever want such a terrible thing).

“Okay,” Suguru breathes out shakily, picturing you sopping wet at the mere thought of the primal play kink. “So… how would we do this?”

And just like that, the plans for your primal play ghostface dream fell into place. 

Close to 9pm on Halloween, your boyfriend left your shared apartment and agreed to return in roughly fifteen minutes in which time you were to set up for the scene by moving all remotely sharp objects out of the way, changing into the appropriate clothing, turning off the lights, and finding a place to hide. By the time the fifteen minutes were up, you would be receiving a phone call from your boyfriend. 

Once you had rearranged the apartment and changed into much shorter, might tighter clothes, you began turning the lights off around the shared space. However, you were startled when you heard a knock on the door. Confused, you walked over slowly and looked through the peephole. 

You let out a sigh and open the door to find Satoru before you. 

“Hey, Satoru,” you greet quickly. “Now’s not really a good time. Suguru and I-”

Satoru, eyes still glued to his phone, interrupts you, “Oh, yeah, I’m here to see him, actually.” 

You click your tongue at his rudeness. When it comes to moments like these, you remember why you choose to believe that Suguru’s drunken confession of Satoru’s underlying feelings for you had to be false. There are times when Satoru treats you more like a doormat than an actual person- let alone the girlfriend of his best friend. Although it does make you question if Satoru really did have feelings for you boyfriend after all… 

“No, Satoru, you don’t understand,” you begin. “Suguru and I have something… planned. He’ll be back soon, but we’re staying in tonight alone.” You be sure to emphasize the last part of your sentence. 

He finally looks up from his phone, and his jaw drops slightly as his eyes rake over your body. His brilliant blue eyes take in your bra-less chest covered by what has to be the world’s shortest crop top with your nipples poking against the fabric of the shirt. His eyes fall to your tiny skirt that hugs your hips tightly and doesn’t even reach midthigh. For the first time since you met the lanky menace, he’s actually speechless. You wave a hand in front of his face to snap him out of his trance-like state. 

“Satoru?” you question. “Did you hear what I just said?”

He closes his mouth and gulps before making eye contact with you. If you had paid closer attention, you would have noticed the bulge in his jeans grow larger just from the mere look of you.

Shaking his head, he puts his phone away in his back pocket. He clears his throat before asking, “What were you saying?”

You roll your eyes at his behavior. 

He’s a complete jerk when he interacts with you normally but now he’s gawking at your appearance? Makes sense why he can’t get a girlfriend. And it’s not like he’s about to pull Suguru as a boyfriend since he’s long off the market. Part of you wants to rub that in Satoru’s face whenever he acts up like this. 

“Suguru isn't home right now, but he will be soon. Once he gets here, he and I have plans. So, respectfully, you need to leave.” you reiterate with more force this time to fully get the point across. 

A.K.A. Fuck off, Satoru.

He scoffs at your attitude (as if it isn’t 100% warranted) and turns around to leave. “Fine,” he sighs in annoyance as if your simple request was a burden. “Tell him I stopped by, and next time…” His eyes meet yours again and a smirk is painted on his irritatingly handsome face. “Maybe wear more clothes when you answer the door. You never know what kind of perverts might be lurking around.”

You smile awkwardly at the comment and finally close the door, letting out a sigh. You thought he’d never leave. 

You jolt when your phone starts ringing and dash around the apartment to turn off the rest of the lights and scurry to your hiding place. Once you’ve quickly collected yourself, you answer the phone. 

“Hello?” you speak, excitement already on the rise at the thought of what’s in store for tonight. 

A dark, muffled voice through a voice modulator on the other end asks, “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Smiling at the iconic line, you grip your phone a little tighter and hum, “I don’t know if I can pick just one. I love horror movies.”

You hear a chuckle. “Really? And why’s that, princess?”

Your cheeks heat up at the use of the pet name- not in the original script but still making you weak in the knees. 

“Hm… There’s just something about the feeling of being scared… To be honest, it gets more more worked up than it should.”

Your ears perk up when you hear the apartment door unlock, and you carefully peer around the room from your hiding spot in search of your masked boyfriend. Perhaps it’s because you’re in the dark, but he’s nowhere in sight. 

“Well, you’re in luck tonight, princess.” the silky voice practically purrs. “Because I’m about to give you a scare you’ll never forget.”

The line drops, and you listen closely for any sounds of movement throughout the apartment. You finally hear shuffling down the hall from your hiding spot and prepare yourself for the chase should you be caught.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” he sings, still utilizing the voice modulator to add to the horror element.

Eventually, your boyfriend steps into the room and proceeds to hum a song under his breath as he slowly looks around the room. Seconds feel like hours as you hold your breath, ready to dart away from your hiding spot if need be. You attempt to lean forward carefully- emphasis on “attempt” because a wooden plank beneath you groans at your small movement. 

His neck snaps toward you, and you can tell that even with that mask, he makes direct eye contact with you. You let out a little yelp as you dive out of the way of his attack. He’s on the ground after his attempted grab, and you rush out of the room in search of another hiding place throughout your apartment. 

You finally settle in a new spot and cover your mouth with your hand to silence your harsh breathing. It isn’t long before your boyfriend enters the room again and begins searching. 

“Fuck,” he exhales, “I can practically track you by smell alone, princess. You must be soaked, huh?”

You push your thighs together in a desperate attempt to pleasure yourself from the friction alone. It’s obviously not enough, but it’ll have to do as your boyfriend chases you through the apartment while dressed as a serial killer. 

“What a dirty little slut you are…” your boyfriend calls out, taunting you. “All this hiding and chasing has you worked up pretty good, huh? Why don’t you just come on out and let me take care of that problem for you, yeah?”

As tempting as the offer sounds, you remain silent and watch from your spot behind the furniture.

“No?” he asks in faux confusion. “Then I guess we’ll just have to do this the hard way. I love a good hunt.”

Surprisingly, you’re able to move to another hiding place quietly right as he was about to find you. Your luck ran out when you realized that in your search through the dark, you had ended up in the bedroom which only left two spaces to hide: under the bed or in the closet. 

“Fuck me,” you whisper in anger. “Could this be any more predictable?”

You quickly weigh your options and opt to slide underneath the bed quietly. Not too long after, your boyfriend walks leisurely into the room. This truly seems like a game to him. And here you were thinking he would be more timid since he had never engaged in any sort of similar roleplay before. 

He peeks around the room, giving it a mere once-over before stepping out. Thank god.

He really believed there’s no way you would be dumb enough to hide in such horrible spots. You’re both relieved and also offended in a way. 

There’s no time to contemplate further when hands wrap around your ankles and pull you from under the bed, making you scream. Once you’re fully emerged, he flips you over on your back and pins you on the floor of your bedroom. 

“Hiding under the bed?” he coos. “Princess, for someone who watches a lot of horror movies, I would have hoped you’d be smarter than that.”

“Get off me!” you shout. 

Even though you’re pretending to fight back, you know full well that even if you were trying with all your strength to push him off, he could still easily manipulate your body. 

“Oh, but this is what you wanted, right?” he asks as he reaches beside him and grabs one of his belts off the dresser. “Completely, utterly helpless.”

He makes quick work of your wrists, binding them together expertly with his belt. The belt wasn’t meant to be a part of the scene, but fuck was it hot. 

Once your hands are bound, he removes both of his black gloves and tosses them to the side. He brings his now bare hands to your collar bones that show from above your flimsy crop top. His cold hands brush against your skin, and he lifts up the fabric between his fingers. 

“This,” he begins. “is getting in the way.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s reaching into his pocket and brings out a switchblade. He cuts the clothes off of your body while you lay there in shock. 

“A switchblade?” you ask in confusion. “Suguru, where did you get a switchblade? That wasn’t part of our scene-”

He cuts you off by shoving his fingers in your mouth. 

“The only thing I wanna hear from this whore mouth is moaning, whining, and pleading,” he states firmly. “Or can a doubt slut like you not understand that?”

Your eyes are practically bulging out of your head. Not only did Suguru whip out a legitimate weapon (which neither one of you had planned), but he was talking to you in a way he had never done before. It was crude, cruel, and harsh. It was something you had never heard from him… but it was turning you on so much that you couldn’t even bring yourself to question the change in behavior. He removes his fingers from your mouth, now covered in your drool, and opts for shoving his discarded gloves into your mouth instead, effectively shutting you up.

“No bra, hm?” he questions as he runs the blade down your bare chest. “Good. Those nipples look even better bare anyways.”

Dragging the knife’s edge along your breast, you hiss as he draws faint amounts of blood. He lets out a groan at the sight and pinches one of your nipples with his free hand. You whine around his fingers at the dual sensation, pleasure and pain. Your wrists pull at your confines, and you feel the leather dig into your skin. 

Abandoning your chest, he moves his free hand lower down your body until he reaches the end of your skirt. With a quick flick of his wrist, he’s pulled up the fabric to reveal your bare cunt, glistening with arousal. Even in the darkened room, you know he can see your wetness. 

“And no panties too?” your boyfriend groans at the sight. “Well, it must be my lucky day. This pretty pussy was calling my name from the beginning, huh?”

Had you been more lucid, you may have furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at his statement, considering you had mentioned to him before the scene what you planned on wearing. The thought flew out of your mind when you felt his long fingers collect your slick and move against your folds. You whine at the movement and try to clench your thighs shut at the for more friction.

“Nuh uh,” he practically sings and shoves your legs apart. “You’re gonna take what I give ya, and you’re gonna like it.”

At that, he plunges two fingers into you suddenly, not even giving time to adjust to the intrusion before he’s built a rapid pace. Your squeal is muffled by the black fabric shoved inside your mouth, but your sounds still echo throughout the apartment. You’re certain you’ll get noise complaints tomorrow- not that you cared.

While his middle and pointer fingers continue their brutal speed inside you, he brings his thumb upward to draw small circles on your clit which has you moaning impossibly louder. Your brain feels scrambled already; Suguru’s touch plus the anticipation of what’s to come has you shaking. 

“Who knew such a quiet, well-mannered little girl could be such a fucking slut,” he states with mock surprise. “Guess it just took some good finger–fucking to bring out your true self, huh?”

Even if you weren’t gagged, you wouldn’t be able to respond. The speed at which he fingers you has you delirious, and if you weren’t so laughably fucked out already, you’d be embarassed with how quickly you felt your climax approaching. Suguru feels you tighten around his fingers and laughs cruelly at you. 

“Gonna cum so soon? I thought a common whore like you would have built up a tolerance for someone touching this cunt…Guess not.” he laughs again.

 You can practically envision the sarcastic pout on his face from his tone. 

“But that’s more than fine by me, princess,” he says darkly and ups the pace on your clit. “Because I’m gonna have you cumming so much that you forget about any other man aside from me.”

The possessiveness in his tone sends you spiraling over the edge and you clench firmly around his fingers as your pitiful moans attempt to spill from the make-shift gag. 

Once you come down from your high, you’re met with your boyfriend holding up a blindfold to your face. You widen your eyes a bit at his actions since he hasn’t mentioned anything to you about using blindfolds when you were planning your scene. He’s certainly taking some creative liberties that stray from your original plans as well as the original Scream movie script. 

“What?” he cocks his head to the side, and you imagine his smirk beneath the mask. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark.”

You glare at him, still blinking back tears in your eyes from your recent and powerful orgasm. You try to speak, but the words are lost in the gag. He probably rolls his eyes as he sighs and pulls the fabric from your mouth. 

You take a deep breath upon being freed from your muzzle and dare him, “Do your worst.” 

He chuckles at the taunt. “You’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.”

He makes quick work of wrapping the blindfold around your eyes tightly, and you’re consumed by the darkness of the fabric. After he’s made sure you can’t see anything, you hear some ruffling of fabric, and you assume he’s removed parts of the ghostface costume. He’s silent for a movement, and you’re about to call out for him before you feel the familiar sensation of a blade along your thighs. You hear him groaning at the sight of you twitching and whining. Hissing at the sharpness of the blade, you feel some blood begin to trickle down your thighs. Leaning in, your boyfriend licks up the warm, red liquid with his tongue. 

You gasp at the filthy action and shamefully feel yourself grow even more wet. 

Before you have time to fully comprehend the dirtiness of your boyfriend’s actions, he latches his tongue to your soaking cunt, and you practically scream at the feeling. Your boyfriend has always been good with his mouth, but tonight feels… different. You can’t quite put your finger on what it is, but he’s displaying this near savage, depraved behavior that you had never seen from him before. You’re not sure if it’s for the scene or the holiday itself, but it’s turning you on in ways you had never experienced before. 

“Fuck, Suguru, that feels so good,” you whine. He lands a harsh slap on your cunt and you yelp. He practically growls against your pussy, and the vibrations ripple throughout your body, causing you to clench your toes and whine helplessly. 

You want so badly to run your fingers through his luscious hair, but the belt pinning your arms above your head keeps your hands firmly in place. 

Your body starts to shake as the sensations grow stronger once he attaches his mouth to your clit and sucks aggressively at the bundle of nerves. His hands grab hold of your hips and pull your lower body back onto the ground to keep you in place to experience the full intensity of his mouth on your mound. You clench your eyes shut and your face scrunches up as the pleasure increases and the knot in your stomach grows tighter. 

Aside from his groans, your boyfriend remains quiet. Although he’s usually quite verbal and talks you through the pleasure, your boyfriend’s uncharacteristic silence actually turns you on. It sounds sick, but it makes you feel more like an object for him to use rather than his girlfriend. 

“Oh!” you gasp as he shoves his fingers back inside you again. His skilled tongue coupled with his long fingers has your mind reeling. “I’m close! I’m so close, baby”

He moans again against your pussy and uses his free hand to drag his fingers along the shallow cuts he made on your thighs. You hiss at the feeling and feel your orgasm crash on you, making you moan so loudly you’re sure your throat will be raw tomorrow. 

Your legs are trembling as you come down from your high. Your voice is shaky as you mutter with a dopey, fucked out smile, “You always know how to drive me crazy, Suguru.”

He chuckles darkly at your comment and your blood runs cold when you hear in a cocky voice ask, “Crazy, huh?”

You freeze at the sound of the voice.

That’s not Suguru.

“What- what the fuck?” you yell. “Who the fuck are you? Get away from me!”

The stranger laughs again. “What? You don’t recognize me?” He leans in real close to whisper in your ear, “You’re telling me you’re not as obsessed with me as I am with you?”

Your eyes bulge impossibly wider as you recognize the voice of the man. 

“S-Satoru…?” you question in a meek tone. 

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” He jokes with a dangerous undertone. He caresses your face softly, and you flinch away at the contact. He sighs in disappointment. “What’s the matter, princess? You were crazy over me a few moments ago. You said so yourself.”

You pull at your restraints and shout, “Let me go!”

Although you can’t see, you assume he rolls his eyes as he covers your mouth with his large hand. He speaks with a calm tone, dismissive of your fear and confusion. “I don’t get what the big deal is, really. I mean, Suguru and I share just about everything. Why are you the exception?”

You wiggle aggressively under his touch and he sighs before lifting his hand. 

“What’s wrong with you? I’m Suguru’s girlfriend. I’m not some toy for you to play with. Now let me go!” you demand. 

Satoru scoffs at your comment. “Ugh, it’s always the same thing from you. Suguru this and Suguru that… How bout you show me a little love, huh?”

You can tell he’s smirking based on the tone of his voice. You continue to struggle to undo the binds restricting your hands. You try yelling for help, desperate for your someone- anyone- to come to your rescue. 

Satoru just stares at your pathetic attempts to escape. Before you know it, his hand slaps your cheek, making you gasp. You feel your skin tingle as the aftermath of the hit. 

Tears well up in your eyes as you cry out, “Where is Suguru?”

Suddenly, a warmer set of hands run up your arm. Your breath hitches at the touch, unsure what to expect next. 

You gasp again as someone leans in and whispers in your ear, “Looking for me, darling?”

Honestly, you could cry tears of joy at this point. “Suguru!” you yelp. “Suguru, please get me out of here!” Expecting to be freed from your confines, you wait for a moment before you hear your boyfriend chuckle. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want, baby?” he whispers. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself when another man was between those thighs. Satoru is quite skilled with his tongue, isn’t he?”

In another world, you would have asked how Suguru knew just how well Satoru moved his tongue, but your brain is too cloudy to question his statement. As fucked up as it is, you press your thighs together slightly at his comment. You try to be discreet so as to not give away how much the situation secretly turned you on, but both men caught the not-so-subtle movement and shared a smirk. 

Satoru began massaging your thighs lightly and swiped up a bit of the remaining blood to bring to his lips. He moaned at the taste. He swore that every part of you tasted good. 

Suguru spoke softly, “If you don’t want to continue, we understand…” he began. “But based on how desperate you are to have the sweet little pussy of yours touched, I’d say you want both of us.”

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips at your boyfriend’s words. Sure, Satoru was attractive. Hell, attractive would be an understatement. He and Suguru looked like they were sculpted by gods. But never in a hundred years did you imagine you’d fuck your boyfriend’s best friend. 

“You know your safeword, darling,” Suguru reminded you. “We won’t go any further unless you want to.”

You thought about it. On one hand, you should be beyond pissed for this fucked up “stunt” they pulled. But on the other hand… you couldn’t deny how much you wanted to try Satoru’s cock.

The idea of taking them both at the same time practically had your mouth watering. 

You gulped and muttered, “Y-yes.”

Satoru just raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Yes what?”

Whining, you spoke, “Yes, please.”

Both men looked at each other with sadistic smiles. That was the only sign they needed. They both understood the goal: ruin you. 

Suguru pulled the blindfold off you and tossed it to the side. “As much fun as that sensory deprivation was, I wanna see your whole face when we fuck you dumb.”

Satoru groans at the idea, “Fuck, I bet that pretty face of yours looks even better when your eyes are rolling back and your drooling from our cocks.”

Blushing at the comment, you try to turn away to hide your face. Suguru just laughs and grabs your chin, making you meet his gaze. ‘Oh, no you don’t,” he chuckled. “There’s nowhere to hide now, baby.”

He lets go of your chin and begins to strip his clothing. He pulls his shirt over his head and then swiftly removes his pants and boxers. His cock is already rock solid, and you try to conceal your whimper at the sight. Suguru hears you anyway and laughs at your desperation. 

You turn your face toward Satoru when you see him stripping out of the corner of your eye. Your eyes widen as he removes his clothes. 

Fuck.

Although your boyfriend’s cock may be thicker, Satoru’s is definitely longer. You almost scoff when you see how good he looks. Of course his cock would be as pretty as the rest of him is. He catches you ogling him and shoots you a wink. 

Before you realize what’s happening, your boyfriend lifts you up and puts you on your hands and knees to face him. He pumps his cock a few times as he looks down at your eager face and saliva soaked lips. He just laughs at your presses and teases your mouth with his thick cock. 

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he asks with a mocking pout. You hum as confirmation s you focus on his cock in front of you. Out of nowhere, you whine when he grabs your hair and tugs your face upward so your eyes meet his. “Remember your manners, baby. Look at me when I’m talking to you, yeah?���

You blink repeatedly and nod quickly. He scoffs at the action and speaks, “Words.”

You snap out of your daze and reply, “Yes, Suguru.”

He smiles at you and relaxes his firm grip on your hair. “Alright then, baby.” He exhales and caresses your face with his free hand. “Get to work.”

Wasting no time, you dive right in and take his cock in your mouth. His precum is sweet on your tongue and you suck thoroughly at the tip. He groans above you but clicks his tongue when you linger too long on the head. You take more of him in your mouth and begin to bob your head. 

You find a good rhythm with your mouth and tongue, but your gasp is muffled by Suguru’s cock when you feel something press against the lips of your pussy. Behind you, you hear Satoru groan. “Fuck,” he mutters in awe. “You’re so fucking wet that you’re dripping.”

You blush at his comment but don’t have much time to think about it before Satoru rams his cock into you. You would have screamed if it weren’t for Suguru beginning to gently fuck your mouth. 

Fuck, Satoru is huge. 

You already knew that from seeing him, but he feels impossibly larger now that he’s buried in your cunt. He lets out a loud moan at the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock and stills for a moment to collect himself. He hisses at your tightness. “If I knew you were this tight, I wouldn’t have waited so long to fuck you.” he confesses as he picks up his pace. “Hell, I would have taken you before Suguru did.”

Sweat begins to form around his hairline as he picks up his pace of fucking your throat. “Ha,” your boyfriend scoffs at his best friend. “Fat fucking chance. This golden pussy has been mine since day one. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Even if your mouth weren’t filled to the brim, you wouldn’t have been able to answer from how good it feels with Satoru fucking you. You just whine at his question. Your answer doesn’t seem to satisfy your boyfriend because he pulls out of your mouth abruptly and pumps his cock in front of you instead. You whine at the sudden loss and lick your lips to collect any remaining precum, desperate for another taste. 

“I asked you a question,” Suguru glared. “Don’t tell me you’re so cock drunk already that you can’t answer a simple question.”

You whimper at his statement and shake your head in an attempt to clear your mind and reply. When you finally open your mouth to respond, Suguru cuts you off by shoving his cock into your mouth once more. You choke at the sudden intrusion and try to maintain your breathing. You already feel lightheaded enough from the pleasure, but now the lack of oxygen is making your head even more fuzzy. 

Satoru begins fucking you with a fast and aggressive pace, moaning loudly at how good you feel. His cock reaches parts of you you didn’t even know you had. You moan around Suguru’s cock, and the vibrations add to his pleasure. He lets out a groan and fucks your throat with more intensity than he ever has before, as if to claim you in front of Satoru. 

“Ha. Trying to show off?” Although out of breath, Satoru scoffs at the sight. “Well, two can play that game.”

Satoru rams his cock into you with such power that it has you choking on Suguru’s cock even more and your eyes bulge at the sensation. You feel stuffed in a way you never have before. You thought the pleasure couldn’t get any better until Satoru reached between your thighs and began rubbing your clit in quick, circular motions. 

If you weren’t choking on your boyfriend’s cock, you would have screamed so loud that the cops may have been notified. Your moans and whines are muffled by Suguru, but you’re loud regardless. 

You look up at Suguru and make eye contact with the man. He laughs a bit, out of breath as well. 

“G-good girl, baby.” he stutters and moans. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You blush at the praise. Even when you’re being fucked dumb by two men, your boyfriend always knows how you make you feel special. 

Glancing downward, you see his stomach clenching and you know he’s close. You take a deep breath through your nose, and you push your mouth down to the base of his cock, gagging. He grabs the back of your head and holds you down for a few moments before letting you back up for air. As soon as you get a breath, he’s pushing you back down again. Tears are streaming down your cheeks at this point, partially because of your boyfriend’s large cock choking you but also because of Satoru’s unforgiving pace as he fucks you into the mattress. 

When you think things couldn’t get any hotter, you turn your head slightly to see Suguru lean forward, grab Satoru by the hair, and pull him into a searing kiss. You whine loudly at the sight.

Guess they really did have feelings for each other. 

Satoru whimpers and deepens the kiss. He brings one hand to Suguru’s hair to tug on the silky strands and pushes his tongue into his mouth. The kiss is messy and some of the spit from it drips onto your back. As Suguru pulls away from the blue-eyed boy, you feel Suguru’s pace stutter, he lets out a loud groan, and his hot cum fills your mouth. You choke again as the warm substance spills down your throat and overflows from your mouth. Suguru’s panting as he comes down from his high, but he grabs your chin before you can swallow his load. 

“Nuh uh,” he chuckles, “Open the mouth wide for me, baby.”

You do as he says and widen your mouth, drops of his cum dripping down your chin. He leans down, spitting into your open mouth. Your eyes roll back at the action and you whine. Laughing breathlessly at your response, he closes your mouth gently and hums, “Swallow every last drop, baby.” he smiles again with a devilish look in his eyes. “You’ve earned it.”

Following his instructions, you swallow his cum and open your mouth to show him you followed his orders to which he smiles at. Before you could close your mouth, you let out a particularly loud cry as Satoru hits your sweet spot, and he has you seeing stars. You’re too out of it to realize that Suguru has collected with his fingertip the cum that leaked from your lips. He brings his cum-covered finger to Satoru’s lips and while Satoru’s mouth falls open with a moan, Suguru promptly shoves his finger into Satoru’s mouth. 

The white-haired man widens his eyes in shock, but hums as he licks the salty substance off Suguru’s fingers. Satoru leans in close to you and whispers in your ear, “I’ve gotta say, your boyfriend tastes pretty good…” he pauses. “But he doesn’t taste as good as you.”

You gasp at his statement, and he leans in closer with his chest against your back. He’s so deep and so rough that it feels as if he’s fucking you like he’ll never get laid again. His desperation for you is dizzying. The idea that you have this man wrapped around your finger makes you impossibly more aroused. To think that the man who acted like he hated your guts was now whining and moaning shamelessly from being in your guts was a concept that made you weak. 

He groans behind you and looks crazed. “Oh, now that I’ve had this pussy, I’m never letting you go.”

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes at Satoru’s comment as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. He’d let Satoru have his fun now, but you knew who you belonged to when all is said and done. And he also knew that Satoru was just as much a desperate whore for him as you are. 

You whimper at Satoru's relentless pace, and Satoru manhandles you into a different position. You’re now lying on your back with your legs raised and pressed against your chest. You scream at the new angle, and his cock is repeatedly hitting your sweet spot with every rough thrust of his cock. 

“Yeah, that’s it, princess,” he coos. “Take everything that I give ya.”

You can’t help but whimper at the praise. His fingers find your clit again and continue to stimulate the nub. A scream escapes you when he pinches your clit between his fingers. Although he’s panting, he manages to let out a dark chuckle at your reaction. 

“You like pain?” Satoru asks with a smirk although he already knows the answer. He knows you're too cock drunk to respond as you’re muttering nonsense and stuttering over your words. He leans closer to whisper in your ear so that Suguru can’t hear. “Well, Daddy can give you all the pain you want.”

Even in your dumb and delirious state, your eyes widen as you process his words and you whine loudly. You didn’t even know you had a daddy kink until Satoru uttered those words. All you knew was that you felt like you were going to explode at the rate Satoru was fucking you and that you were going to die if you didn’t cum soon. 

Laughing cockily at your reaction, Satoru brings his hand to your neck and squeezes tightly. His grip effectively cuts off most of your oxygen, and it has you seeing even more stars than you were a moment ago due to his fat cock. 

He pulls his hand away for a moment, making you whimper at the loss and wish his hand was still wrapped around your throat. Instead, he leans down and leaves bite after bite and hickey after hickey all over your neck and chest, effectively covering you in red marks. His smile is almost manic as he examines his work. In that moment, you’re just a doll for him to fuck, just a canvas for him to paint on. And if he weren’t planning on filling your little pussy to the brim with cum, he’d have painted your body with his load instead alongside the marks he’d left. Just as quickly as it left, he brings his hand back to your throat and practically chokes you. His other hand continues the never ending abuse on your clit, the bundle of nerves desperate for relief. 

Suguru raises an eyebrow at the scene, intrigued. He wasn’t ever that rough with you. But based on the look on your face, the tears in your eyes, and the drool from your lips, he knows that next time he fucks you, he’ll be sure to give it to you even rougher than Satoru. There’s no way he’s going to let his best friend brag about fucking you better. No one knows your pussy like your boyfriend does. He sits in a chair beside the bed and watches the two of you as his cock grows hard again. 

Satoru swears he’s never had better pussy in his life. How did he ever cum before your tight cunt was sucking him in? One thing’s for certain: Satoru’s not about to say goodbye to your pretty face and soaking wet cunt- not now or ever. He swears at the sensation and whines when he feels you tighten even more around him, signaling how close your orgasm is. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you manage to moan, tears freely flowing down your face. Satoru’s eyes darken at the sight and leaned over to collect the knife once more, releasing your throat. He brought the knife down to your boobs and made small cuts near the nipples. You let out a cry at the pain mixed with pleasure. Satoru then leans down and wraps his mouth around your nipple, using his tongue to suck the blood. “Oh my god,” you sob.

This sends you over the edge and you scream at the feeling of Satoru’s cock impaling you coupled with the sensation of pain on your chest. You’re sobbing now as Satoru continues this brutal thrusts, desperately chasing his own orgasm. “Fuck!” He curses loudly before he shoots his cum deep inside your cunt, and you scream once again at the pleasure. “Take it all, princess. You don’t wanna disappoint Daddy, do ya?”

You shiver and whine at his words. Satoru takes multiple deep breaths before he nearly collapses on top of you, and you’re both breathing heavily like you’ve run a marathon. You whimper as you feel him paint your insides white, and you wince when Satoru pulls out. Even in his post-climax daze, he looks at your pussy in awe as he watches his cum spill from your swollen pussy. You’re shocked out of your fucked out state when you hear your boyfriend clapping slowly as he walks across the room toward you both. 

“That was quite the show, Satoru.” Suguru whistles as he reaches the bed and stands beside you. You gulp as you look downward and see his solid length, as intimidating and hard as ever. Satoru looks up and meets Suguru’s gaze, a pussy drunk look on his face with blush to match. 

Your boyfriend smirks before yanking you toward him and spanking your pussy, making you yelp and quiver. “But I think I should show you how it’s really done.”

A Halloween with plenty of tricks and treats.

---

so... yeah! if you made it this far, thank you! I'm sorry if I missed you on the taglist I'm honestly not used to making one lol

taglist: @ami20019 / @ufoev3 / @that-bitch-whose-got-blogs @cccccccccccleo / @blissfuloni / @happymangospot @allofffmypeaches / @forest-fruits-jam / @avantismyname @c1-3ra

@loveitallxoxo / @aemonds-smelly-eyepatch-xoxo / @teacupwaifu

@aarronnie / @frstmn / @pricesssparkle-blog / @strawberrytwistz

@just-a-regular-gay-here103 / @tengenssock / @joonunivrs