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alexiroflife · 5 months ago

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"phobia"

i literally can't stop writing for this mf, flufffff :(

satoru gojo x reader

Synopsis: you are an incredibly talented sorcerer, but your deadly fear of spiders tends to interfere with your daily life every now and then. it doesn't help when you happen to encounter a curse that looks just like one

to sum it up: satoru is always there for you to kill a spider when you need him to

WC: 2,764

Warning(s): arachnophobia, icky spiders

The burden of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was taxing beyond comprehension, which of course was why it paid so well.

Sorcerers were expected to give their lives each day within the battlefield, watching as their comrades and the people they were expected to protect die left and right at the hands of the morbid amalgamations of human beings’ worst possible fears, anxieties, doubts, and other nasty negative emotions.

To be a sorcerer was to sacrifice oneself, to accept death before it inevitably took its toll on those around you, and then eventually, on you yourself. This was why sorcerers were expected and trained to be strong, fierce, and with perhaps a few screws loose in their heads to allow them to plow full force into danger with no fears and no regrets.

Sorcerers were meant to be fearless.

And in many ways, you truly were. You were a first grade sorcerer, more than capable of handling yourself in the face of adversity. You were proficient, quick on your feet, merciless when you had to be, and above all, you were confident in your abilities, which was just as important of a trait to have as a sorcerer as courageousness.

You were a proud woman, content that you could put your skills to good use by aiding those who were weak and helpless, by saving as many lives as you could alongside your colleagues at Jujutsu Tech.

You were a damn good sorcerer too, only, there remained a small matter that often seemed to creep up on you at the worst of times. Something you had tried desperately to overcome through years of training, therapy, private meetings with Yaga, and more. Something that had been clinging to you since the very moment you were born, and something you were still somehow unable to completely escape well into your twenty-sixth year of life.

And that was your deathly fear of spiders.

You admitted that it was silly, that to have made it this far within the world of sorcery after having encountered more horrors than most people could imagine, a little fear of spiders was completely absurd. You knew it didn’t make any sense, that this fear of yours was beneath you, but that didn’t stop you from shrieking horribly and seeking shelter each time you saw a spider crawling along the wall of your apartment.

You knew that you should have had more patience with yourself, for there was no way of conquering a fear if you refused to acknowledge it as valid, but come on. You were a grade 1 sorcerer for god’s sake, a professor at Jujutsu High teaching students to cast their fears aside to focus their emotions and energies into properly honing in on their techniques, yet you still couldn’t get over being squeamish any time you saw those little demons hurdling their way over the earth.

In your mind, they were far worse than curses, a source of terror that must have been executed.

Nevertheless, you kept your fears to yourself for the sake of your occupation and reputation. The only person who knew anything about this vulnerability of yours was your boyfriend, Satoru, and even he found it funny at times to tease you about such a small thing in a world plagued by monsters and curse-users. He had seen you slice open a curse all the way down the middle of its body with a blank face, blood spattering in all directions, but spiders were what got you.

While he poked fun, he still harbored an understanding that beneath the hardened exterior sorcerers were forced to put up, you were all born of flesh and blood just as any other living being on this planet.

Satoru was quick to rush to your apartment whenever you called him screaming, standing atop your bed and jumping up and down on your cushions in fear upon catching sight of one of those nasty things. He would throw your door open, catch you in your rather comical position, and hold back a fit of laughter upon seeing you.

“SATORU, SHUT UP AND JUST KILL IT! PLEASE!”

“Calm down, pretty, it’s not gonna hurt you,” he would say, a sickening smirk gracing his gorgeous features. “You’ve faced much worse things than this.”

“I don’t care!” you’d sob. “Just kill it please!”

And once he was finished picking on you, he’d hurry to your aid, approaching the bug in the corner and flicking his finger, rendering the creature dead.

Then afterwards, he’d always hold out his arms for you to jump down into them once you determined it was safe, cooing into your ear as you threw your arms and legs around him, his hand holding your head.

“You were so brave, baby. Good job, you got through it.”

It was humbling, to say the least, for the strongest to witness you in such a weak state, but despite Satoru’s teasing, he still took you very seriously. He didn’t diminish your strengths or your worths because of a simple fear. Hell, he had fears that he had buried deep within his gut that only you could drag out of him, and that was okay. Satoru poked fun, but he never judged his precious girl for feeling.

After all, he enjoyed the fact that you were comfortable enough to let him see you in such a light after long days of having to be strong, just like him. He liked that he could help you with this one thing, even if it meant teleporting into your room at two in the morning on a work day. As long as he was taking care of you, he didn’t care less what you needed. When you needed him, he would be at your aid within a heartbeat.

And in this moment, you really, really did need him.

Yaga had sent you on a quick solo mission to eradicate a few low grade curses at a nearby summer camp facility while most of the other sorcerers were busy with training or on leave for other missions. It was a quick and easy task for you, granted that your grade was much higher than those of the curses you would be exorcizing.

Only, what Yaga failed to inform you, and likely did not know or care about, was that one of these particular curses was unlike the rest. While you easily winded through the three other creatures, the very last one at the end of the corridor caught you by surprise.

Your face was hardened as you whipped your head around, sensing the presence of the last curse within the space. Once your eyes landed on the source of the cursed energy, however, your face dropped and your eyes shrank in terror.

There before you cowered a three foot tall dark purple curse which took an arachnoid shape, with an array of beady red eyes atop its head and eight hair legs digging into the wood of the floorboards. Your heart dropped and your mouth ran dry, your body freezing in its tracks. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t do anything. Of all the first grade curses you had come across in your lifetime, this grade 3 creature would be the very first thing that stood between you and seeing the light of day.

The curse hissed, chattering its chelicerae-like mouth as its legs tapped restlessly against the floor, sending a horrid shiver up your spine. You were stronger than this, braver than this, you knew you were, but your legs had gone to jelly and your heart was pounding in your ears. Perhaps if you had been given a warning ahead of time. you would have been able to approach this threat differently, but instead, much to your shame, you took off in the opposite direction once your legs willed you to move.

You could hear it crawling after you down the hall, screeching out nonsensical sounds as it rounded the corner to follow you. You were quick to duck into the first room you saw, slamming the door shut behind you and pressing your back against the surface. You searched the room in a panic, which you discovered to be a dorm, and ran to take cover in a closet in the corner.

You trembled, sinking down to the bottom of the platform as heavy, panicked breaths wracked your body. This was pathetic. This was humiliating. You were better than this, but god, this fear, those damned spiders would always get the best of you, despite how hard you tried to help it.

You were trembling, squeezing your eyes shut as whimpers spilled from your quivering lips. That thing was so big, bigger than any spider you had encountered, and while you understood it was a curse, it looked far too real.

You didn’t know what to do. You had to finish this mission, and the principal wouldn’t accept a sorry excuse about you being too afraid to exorcize a curse because it looked like a spider for an answer as to why you would come running back to the school. It sounded ridiculous! Especially for someone with your skill.

You could hear the creature running up and down the halls erratically, its gross legs clicking against the walls. You pressed your lips together tightly, wrapping your arms around yourself. You wanted this to stop.

Hesitantly, you reached into the pocket of your uniform to shakily pull out your phone. You breathed out heavily, on the verge of a panic attack, trembling fingers dialing your boyfriend’s number with his. You lifted the phone to your ear and listened to it ring.

Then it clicked.

“Hello? Baby?” Satoru’s comforting voice spoke into the phone, a sigh of relief escaping you. “What’s up? You done with that little mission yet?”

“S-Satoru?” you whispered, voice trembling harshly. Immediately, the sorcerer on the other line knew something was off.

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” his tone dropped with urgency. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You pursed your lips again, muffling a pathetic sob that was prepared to break past your mouth. You scrunched your eyes closed, the confined space doing very little to ease your nerves. Satoru could only hear the choked whines that left you, and he was on his feet, captured with instant worry.

“Baby, talk to me. I need to know you’re okay. Tell me what happened. Where are you?”

“T-The…” you stammered, struggling to get it out.

“Deep breaths, pretty. Breathe.”

You gulped, knocking your head back against the wood, taking a moment to release a few sharp breaths. “The camp,” you managed to whimper.

“You’re still there?” he asked, almost incredulously. “Did something happen? Were the curses higher grades than you were told? I’m on my way right now.”

“No, i-it’s,” you shook, pressing your phone to your forehead. “It’s- a s-spider…”

There was a pause as Satoru processed what you were saying. “A spider?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

“The last curse,” you exhaled. “It’s a spider, Toru, it looks like a damn big ass spider,” you rambled. “I’m so scared, I'm sorry, please come help me.”

“Oh, baby,” he sighed. “I’m coming, don’t worry. Stay where you are, I’ll find you.”

You nodded rapidly, scrunching your face as tears pricked your eyes. “M-kay.”

You tucked your phone away and within exactly two seconds, you heard a whooshing sound from outside, followed by the screech of the curse. You heard its legs clatter along the walls once more before another tormented, animalistic cry, and then there was nothing.

You waited silently, hugging your knees to your chest as footsteps ascended. “(Y/n)?!” you heard Satoru’s voice through the walls, and your shoulders slumped with alleviation. You heard the door to the room open and you slowly reached up to the closet door handle, creaking it open to peer outside.

There, you saw your boyfriend standing in the doorway, gaze finally landing on you beneath his blindfold. The moment he saw you, he dropped his arms, pained by the sight of you curled up in hiding out of fear. “(Y/n),” his gentle voice breathed out as he stepped further into the room, extending his arms in that same manner he always did when comforting you.

The second you saw the motion, you were breaking. The reality of your weakness came crashing down on you, and your lips wobbled as you climbed out of the closet and fell into his warm embrace. You shook against him, embarrassed, petrified. You were the partner of the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, and this was what you were. Powerless at the will of a low grade curse.

“It’s alright, baby, I’m here. Please don’t cry, pretty. It’s okay, I got you,” he murmured against your temple, pressing his soft lips to it then to the crown of your head as you buried your face in his chest.

“Satoru,” you sniffled into him, clinging to the fabric of his black suit as he wrapped you into his warmth.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I-Is it gone?”

“Yeah, baby. I got rid of it. It’s all gone, don’t worry,” he whispered. He hated seeing you like this. Normally when you faced spiders, the interaction was far more lighthearted. You would screech, sure, but you had always recovered fairly quickly after he had killed one. Granted, you had never encountered a spider as big as the one that you just saw, but Satoru was aching upon witnessing how rattled you were by this thing. “You got the rest of them, baby. You did so good, you know that? My strong girl.”

He was so loving with his praise as he eased you down from your high, rubbing your hair and pressing his palm to your waist, letting you know that you were safe with him.

“M’sorry,” you mumbled into him and he looked down, pulling away slightly to hear you better and to get a look at your face. He tilted your chin up so that you could look at him, your eyes glossy and your brows pinched.

“What are you sorry for, pretty?” he asked you genuinely, heart clenching as he smoothed his thumb over your flushed cheek.

“Cause,” you sniffed again. “I should’ve been able to handle this. It’s so stupid. I dragged you here to get rid of something so small.”

“Hey,” he said with firm tenderness, holding your cheek so that your eyes stayed on his. “Don’t do that.”

“B-But, I should be able to-”

“Stop. I won’t listen to you beat on yourself for being afraid,” he shook his head. “You’re so strong, (Y/n). You always have been, but we all have our weaknesses and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Says you,” you muttered, guilt catching your eyes. “You’re the strongest.”

“And you know better than anyone that that’s just a title,” Satoru said earnestly. “Yes there’s truth to it, but none of that takes away from the things that keep me up at night. Just like your grade doesn’t take away your fears.”

He traced the curve of your jaw softly, lifting his free hand to remove his blindfold and tuck it into his pocket. You watched as his white hair fell over his face and his sapphire eyes washed over you, displaying his loving, concerned, understanding gaze.

“But that doesn’t mean we’re not strong. It’s okay to be scared as long as you know I’m here to help you, and as long as I know you’re here to help me.”

You could feel a lump building in your throat as he gazed at you and he curled his brows, jutting out his bottom lip slightly.

“Don’t look at me like that, princess, you’ll make me cry,” he said, catching your face in both of his large palms as your hands moved to delicately hold his wrists. “C’mere, baby,” he whispered, drawing your forehead to his lips. The sorcerer then kissed the bridge of your nose and the edge of your brow before letting you fall back into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso as he held you close.

You melted into him and closed your eyes. “Love you, Satoru,” you murmured into him.

He kissed your head again, resting his cheek atop you. “I love you, too, (Y/n). Let’s get you home and all cleaned up, yeah?”

You nodded against him, thankful to the universe that the man you loved made being vulnerable feel like a gentle, welcoming, consuming form of unconditional love.

But, fuck, did you hate spiders.

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moondirti · 6 months ago

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jigsaws

— surgeon! simon riley x resident! reader

angst. anxiety. panic attacks. neurosurgical procedures. medical setting. mean simon. d/s undertones. 3.3k wc

There's a reason no one likes working with him.

Tough. Censorious, or hard to please – whispered wearily by nurses with permanent distaste etched into their crow's feet. He scathes anyone not accustomed to his abrasive exterior; a talus pile of whetted rocks, poised to flay you open should you take the plunge so confidently. Rubs your skin raw, brutally worms his way into your flesh, infamously bars rescue, allowing only saltwater to cradle your open wounds in the aftermath. Nothing about his criticism is comforting, not in the way an attending's support should be.

It sounds inflated. Excessive. Your intern year, you let the horror stories float you by as though they were nothing more than dust motes in an old room. To be expected, no? Hospital's are brutal for even the briefest of visitors, let alone a man who's worked here twenty years. In hindsight, you see that it's a type of discredit only the very fortunate can claim; inaugural residents and medical directors, those who do not have to deal with the virulent terror himself. You know better, now. Really.

Still, it feels as though you're being punished.

The air in the operating room is heavy. Clotted by a thick sense of unease. It's never like this, usually. Though the smell of burnt bone, blood, and remnant antiseptic is always a force to be reckoned with, you've gotten very good at shunning your nose for favour of your other senses. To tune into the vital monitor's beep, or the distinctions between this lump of amorphous tissue versus that lump of amorphous tissue. Reinterpreting them based on the plans you revised while scrubbing up, focused fingers around delicate tools prodding. Cutting.

Reliable perception is fine work. You've honed your personal ability the best you could.

The first lesson Dr. Riley teaches you, and rather gratuitously at that, is it takes just one person to throw it off kilter.

There's an impossible itch right where your mask hooks over your ears, latched nastily onto your scalp. Nothing you can address physically (sterility before comfort), though you're aware that its source isn't so easy as to scratch away. Figurative, then. An unwavering neg, pointed by a pair of cold eyes in your periphery. You're tempted to look up, throw off his stare with one of your own, but you think he wants you distracted.

So, you shift your weight and centre the electrocautery to another portion of abnormal growth. It comes apart like stale bread.

You haven't felt this micromanaged since medical school, when professors would loom over your shoulder and mark the clumsy way you sutured incisions shut. But where your grade had been on the line then, it's a person's life now. You seem to be the only one privy to that fact, or perhaps the one surgeon who cares.

Because Dr. Riley watches you over his wire-rimmed specs, grunting ambiguously under his breath like you can't hear him standing just a foot away. Maddening in that it's quiet, idle. To question it would be putting the burden of critique on yourself. To let it continue–

Sweat pools beneath your collar. The spotlights don't help, either, heat lamps on your roasting nerves, highlighting the wet sheen of your temple to whoever cares enough to notice (just him). Focus feels a vain pursuit, attention zeroing in and out of control. You're caught in the violent dance, swept away, water beneath your feet, between the operation and everything else. Everything else, like the ground that suddenly pushes too hard beneath you. The walls, stretching further and further away. There'd be nothing to catch you should you fall – a possibility that gains traction by the second, your vision spotting with exhaustion.

You almost lose it before a flash of green reels you back in.

It's instinctual. Entrenched response to a colour that only ever means one thing. Looking up at the neuronavigation, you watch as the silhouette of your apparatus veers dangerously close to the patient's motor cortex, highlighted in nausea-inducing neon for maximum visibility. Dr. Riley's presence darkens the space next to the screen, a point of singularity that consumes anything within its event horizon. Though it's the last thing you want to do, you coast a hesitant look over to him.

A surgical gown is meant to be ill-fitting. You find he fills the fabric in a manner antithetical to that design, shoulders stretching it tight across his neck, tree-trunk arms drawing tense pleats around his joints. Even his cap, wrapped smoothly around his forehead, ripples with every shift of his brow. Doubled-up gloves warped to the contours of his hands, thick fingers and knuckles. You watch the way they twitch, distorting the latex like a swift fish underwater, and swallow the stone lodged in your throat.

"I can't read your mind, Doctor." Your attending snaps when you take too long to elaborate. His voice is rough, a sucking chest wound in the sterile air of the OR – too raw, natural in a way these halls don't see. You squirm uncomfortably in the force majeure. "What's the hold up?"

"Um-" You pull away from the glioblastoma, your patient's head remaining tightly in place by a positioning frame. "I'm concerned about resecting this part. It's all wound up in healthy tissue, right up against the motor cortex. A wrong move could cause permanent damage."

Dr. Riley doesn't move. Instead, his blank stare flicks down to the surgical site, digesting the truth for himself. The anesthesiologist beside you holds her breath. You wish you had it in you to do the same, but your lungs already wheeze for oxygen as it is.

Somewhere, dim and timid in the recesses of your mind, it occurs to you that this isn't normal. No attending should actively foster an environment where help is punished, especially not while being paid a hefty salary to do exactly that. A dour attitude is one thing – everyone has their days – but you know nurses with greater burdens that boast smiles and little stickers on their ID badges, running on three hours sleep while dealing with bedpans and lewd comments all day. Your search for guidance, then, is certainly not the worst thing in the world.

(No matter how stern the look he gives you is.)

"You need to make a decision. Hesitation in the OR can be just as fatal."

Great load of good that does.

But it was to be expected. Pre-op, you sat down with him to discuss the acceptable margins, and got as much out of that conversation as you did this one. Review the imaging. You've been given the functional mapping for a reason. Never mind that it was standard procedure to check-in regardless; he handles you like you're a child playing dress-up, waving around tools too complex for your grubby hands to operate. Asking him anything is validating what he believes, like kindling wood into a roaring fire. Your mouth smacks to the taste of ash.

The discoloured mass growing off your patient's brain seems to glare back at you. Ugly, yellow, and stained in a coating of blood, severed from its sisters that now lay dead on an adjacent table. It kills you to let it stick, to progress to hemostasis with an increased risk of recurrence. Should this individual ever come in again, their pain would be on your hands – a real possibility you cannot reckon with, for all you know how devastating a toll it would have. The last time it happened, you promised yourself you would never allow it again.

(A mistake that even the greenest of medical students know not to make. Promises are null in this field. They'll blow out like bad tattoos, ink smudged under skin. Patients die, families grieve, doctor's bear the guilt – to fool anyone about it would be doing a greater disservice. Conciliation is not your job. It is not a duty you owe.

Not even to yourself.)

"I… I think we should stop here to avoid any potential issues." You resolve, lips pursed painfully tight. Your hands shake, bullet of emotion ricocheting within your ribs. Your nerves are shot, you tell yourself. It'll take time to compose them, time you don't have. Better to shelf this, then. You're doing the right thing by wrapping it neatly for another day, if that day should ever come.

Dr. Riley huffs.

Or, not.

"CUSA," He clips to the scrub nurse, who shakes as they place the tool into his impatient hand. It's all you can do to watch in horror as your attending commandeers your case, addressing the portion of concern with offensive expertise. The activity on the neuronavigation doesn't so much as blink as he emulsifies the target tissue, tumored cells dissociating from the surrounding matter like butter.

And it isn't a learning opportunity – hardly anything at all when he washes the area in saline solution, manoeuvre over as quickly as it started. Instead, your attention sticks to the casual disrespect he felt was necessary. Snubbing your insight like it was dirt beneath his shoes, too competent to even address your error with words. Humiliation rips like a wave up your neck, washing your ears and cheeks in balmy warmth. Underneath it all, settled like wet sand on the shore, you find that it is not your bruised ego that's left, but rather a wilder, darker thing.

Shame at having failed him.

(How obnoxiously redundant.)

"Think you can manage the duraplasty, Doctor?" Derision distorts his expression into something crueller than his usual indifference. You hate to think it suits him.

"Yes."

It's only an hour later that you're granted the chance to break down.

After wound closure, scrubbing out and postoperative discussions with the patient's family, you think you'd have moved on. Things like this happen – it's what necessitates post-graduate training in the first place – and you're certainly not irredeemable for having faltered on the line. At least, that's what the logic delineates. It mutters its assurances like dogma in your head, insisting that because it is rational, it is right. Any other day, you would be inclined to listen to it.

But that's the thing about being strung out beyond measure. The only sentiment with teeth, sharp and stubborn, is anguish. Indignity. Self-turned anger. You replay the scene like something new will come of it, a silver lining or a divot to pin the blame in anything but yourself. The scalp staples back into place, the dressings wrapped tight. The hibiclens soap lathers up to your elbows, your skin itchy as it dries. The family is thankful, little tears dotting their eyes. The storm passes, waters rippling into quiet calm. And still–

In the wake of it all, you're irrevocably changed. Raw.

There's a little closet for occasions like these. You're relieved to find it empty, void of anything but rusted buckets and mildewed mops. It's a welcome crowd, certainly, borderline claustrophobic compared to the wide floors of the OR, and you sink to the floors within the tight, comforting embrace. Immediately, hot tears spring to your eyes, rabbit heart racing along hollowed ribs. Emotion rushes your throat, tumultuous and messy, piling half-formed grievances on top of one another until they form an intricate, prodigious beast.

Impossible to tackle, worse to tame.

Could you have done anything different?

Is there a reason why he hates you?

Are you cut out for this?

Is this worth never getting a good night's rest?

Do you deserve any of the opportunities you've been given?

Would they be better off in the hands of someone more competent?

No answer claims any. Unresolved, they wriggle underneath your flesh, feeding on the muscle keeping you intact. Tunnelling through your marrow, soft matter fattening them up. You feel as though you're shifting to accommodate them, anatomy morphing into an ugly sack of dermis and maggots. True reflection of a degraded conceit.

The dark, at least, remains omnipresent. Clean against your skin, or purifying, in some odd way. If there is no witness to your misery, then perhaps you can pretend it doesn't exist. That it doesn't affect you as much as it does, or how you won't be thinking of it during every case to come–

A knock rattles you out of your reasoning.

"Hey." Kyle's voice is soft on the other side of the door.

You make your best effort to wipe the wetness from your cheeks, warbling a quiet come in to your chief resident. Fluorescent light intercedes on your little sanctum, spotlighting your crumpled frame. The pitying grimace that twists his face is enough indication that you did not do a good job at hiding your affliction. You must look pathetic.

"We missed you at lunch."

"Wasn't hungry." You sniff, taking his hand to pull yourself up.

"That bad, huh?"

"Worse than you could've prepared me for."

He snickers. It alleviates some of the weight off your chest, this. Conversation to remind yourself that there is more to the world than your angst.

(Only some.)

"It'll get easier, I promise. He's harsher on the juniors."

"I think that's not for you to say. Tell me, has there ever been a superior who didn't absolutely adore you?" Your voice sobers to a close resemblance of Laswell's. "Good work on the diagnosis, Dr. Garrick. I'll admit, I wouldn't have caught that myself."

The man in question lightly shoves your arm, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Okay, hush. I get it. Still–"

"You don't have to do this, you know." You smile until it gets too much to sustain, then turn to gather your white coat from behind the front desk. The note of positivity his companionship brings is fickle. Appreciated, but not enough to balm the sore blisters of Dr. Riley's rebuff. That'll take the weekend, likely, holed up in your room with nothing but a cuppa and old How I Met Your Mother reruns. "I'm fine, really. I'd rather just continue about my rounds and forget he exists."

But Kyle sighs. Sighs, and bites his cheek in that same way he does when he has to deliver bad news to intakes.

You blanch. "Don't–"

"He came looking for you in the mess hall. Something about the report." The unsteady composure you've built within yourself immediately dissipates, as though it were nothing more than an absorbable stitch. "You know better than to skip out on post-op briefs."

Your voice is weak when you speak again. Breathless. "I'm sorry."

"I don't blame you, darl. But he wants to see you in his office, now." Kyle's face is sympathetic. It doesn't do you much good. "I'll cover your rounds in the meantime."

"Thanks."

And despite your true gratitude, the words ring as empty.

"Sit."

Like a marionette suspended on string, you do as you're told.

Dr. Riley's office is barren of any personal adornment, cast in the same austere template initially given to him. There's a leather couch tucked prim under the window, throw pillow flat on one end. A wire file organiser sits atop his desk, papers fighting for space between the flimsy bookmarks. Pens in a cup, a stapler by his keyboard. All ordinary, inconclusive belongings, that which you sift through like a ravenous creature, slobbering for clues at the life your attending leads.

Ironically, the one thing that offers any inference is an empty photo frame, faced towards the rest of the room, away from him.

You don't like the uncomfortable feeling it inflicts.

"The family." He levels a bored look to you, that which hardens the longer you take to address his ambiguous question. In the harsh lights of the operating room, his eyes looked nearly black. Now, sunlight paints a clearer picture. Taupe and sepia, flecks of various browns brightened by the pale blue underline of his mask. "Doctor."

Floundering, you search for the clouded memory of your discussion with the patient's relatives. It ripples, faintly, between your revels in self-pity. If you needed any censure of your disordered priorities, that is surely enough.

(Funny how he continues to criticise you, even unintentionally.)

"Good. Hopeful. I told them you managed to resect the entire thing, and detailed the plan going forward." It's as though your hands are compelled to move by electric shock, charged full of destructive energy. You rub your face, twiddle your thumbs, scratch the armrests of your chair; trying any measure to defuse the bomb you feel ticking beneath your chest. "They give their thanks."

All the while, he remains steady before you.

A moment of tense silence clears. "I just submitted the operation report." He says, derailing the conversation to what you suspect has always been its purpose. "I mentioned your inability to close the surgery."

You damn near choke on your spit. He notices, of course, and raises a challenging brow.

"I- I'm sorry, but that isn't what... I was perfectly able to complete it." Your protest carries none of the strength you will it to. As is always the case around him, you're made to sound like a defiant student, instead. Pouting and stomping your foot, inflating your strict sense of justice to an occasion that does not call for it.

"Oh?" You know you're not crazy for thinking that way, either. He speaks in faux conciliatory tones, brows knitting together as his argument waters down to one he thinks you can digest. "Would you rather I have said you refused, then?"

You shake your head, staring down at your lap. You really, really don't want to be here. Is it worth it, then? To stand your ground when the worst that will come of his misstatement is an inquiry from above? The strength has long since left you. Now, it is a matter of bloodletting. Leeching the struggle before it festers into something greater, a malady you cannot control.

"No."

"Make up your mind, Doctor." He hums, grabbing a protein bar from his drawer before standing. He doesn't have to round his desk to tower over you, but he does. Heat radiates off him in waves, blushing your neck so that when you look up at him, owlish, your face flares with stockpiled fervor.

You wonder if it could be read as desire.

"You know best." Shutting down has never been so disencumbering. Acquiescence, upending an ivory flag with the knowledge that you don't have to bleed any longer.

His lashes flutter. When you blink, they seem closer than they were before.

"That's right." Dr. Riley practically fucking purrs, chest rumbling thoughtfully at your chosen response. A pressure settles between your legs, bloating desperately into that bundle of nerves that inhibits all reason. "So next time, if you have a problem with the way I do things, you'll address it to me directly instead of snivelling like a bloody prat. That way, maybe I'll explain it to you, too."

A nod is not enough.

"Yes, Dr. Riley."

He cocks his head, fiddling with the wrapping in his hands. His fingers are scarred, brutish, though they tear the foil with all the precision in the world. Your acceptance does not feel nearly as final, expectation thickening the space between you. The title startles to your tongue, then. Novel. Unsure. You haven't called anyone it since secondary. You do not know whether he'll take to it kindly at all.

"Yes, sir."

But his eyes crinkle at the corners, pleased, and it more than fills the hole he harrowed out from you earlier. Your reaction to the approval should be documented, given a name and listed somewhere on the DSM-5.

(Nothing about it feels healthy.)

"Good." He pushes off the edge of his desk, tapping a knuckle to your chin. Instinctively, you open your mouth. The protein bar fits between your teeth, pasty and dry, but his pulse vibrates near your lips and–

You bite down anyway.

(But oh, does it feel good.)

[masterlist]

#this is heading into crazy kink fic territory sorry #also bare minimum research. its fanfic so if something is off. close your eyes and think with what's between your legs #simon ghost riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #ghost #simon riley #fanfiction #x reader #x you #call of duty #cod #modern warfare #mw #fic ༄ jigsaws

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tummywrites · 3 months ago

Text

you had the life. happy family, good grades, star of the softball and cheer team, eventually picked for your favorite sorority. every frat bro flirted with you, and every one of your sisters was jealous of you. you were a size 0, no one was skinner than you in your whole house and you knew girls envied you for it, you took joy in watching the fatties you were supposed to consider "sisters" run to the bathroom after dinners at the sorority house, the sounds of their puke hitting the toilet as they tried to purge, desperate for a body as perfect as yours. you meet a hot guy at a frat party one night, and he pours a few too many drinks down your throat and for the first time you're bloated: an unnatural roundness on your otherwise stick thin figure. you notice this and when you get back to your dorm room, drunk and stumbling and just barely able to make it into your bed and grab your vibrator, rutting your hips helplessly into your bed. your belly was so swollen, so full, and you could feel the liquid sloshing around in there, trying to making you sick, but all it did was make you horny.

why?

the next time you felt that feeling, it was at a tailgate and you were there with all your sisters & and their boyfriends, waiting for the game to finish so you could go to the frats and party. you got drunk again and this time you got hungry, so you walked over to the guy's side of the area and grabbed a slice of pizza, trying to avoid eye contact with your sisters nearby who you had overheard complaining about how "fat" they were getting (as they went from 100 to 110 pounds after spending every night partying, not eating all day and drinking all night) you laughed at those girls in your mind as you stood there in your size 0 slip dress, flaunting your body to the girls who fought to look like you. you devoured the first slice of pizza with that on your mind, and couldn't help yourself as you grabbed a second one, and with that, a few bread bites. you eyed the snack tray on the table, with baggies of chips and a cooler full of sugary sodas, but then you saw your Big sister glaring at you from across the room and you glanced down, recoiling in horror (and clenching your legs in arousal) your stomach was rounded out, pulling your dress tight across your belly in an almost obscene way. without a word, you grabbed your bag and stumbled off, embarrassed and drunk and so full, but so turned on for seemingly no reason. why would you be turned on by being so bloated from countless beers and greasy pizza, then being caught by one of the other girls there while you made a pig of yourself?

what sealed your fate was over christmas break, when your high school friends wanted to get together again and have a dinner party. you were still as thin as you had always been, but it lately you did feel a little resistance as you went to tug up your lulu pants which was unusual. your friends from high school, however, were not so lucky. your high school best friend had gained at least 40, maybe 50 pounds--a once skinny girl with a flat chest and stomach, now spilling out of a crop top and skirt, a muffin top cascading over the waistband of a skirt. your other friend, a once sporty guy who hadn't gained a day in his life, now walked in with a shirt that clung uncomfortably to his gut, which brought back that hot feeling in your pussy, your clit throbbing as you saw him, pot belly absolutely obscene to you. everyone brought a dish to welcome you home, and they all insisted you try each dish, then seconds, and thirds of this dish, this that one, and then try this one again--

good thing you had drinks.

by the end of the night, you were so nauseous you were convinced were you going to spew. you had ate so much, potato dishes soaked in heavy cream, the thickest mac n cheese you had seen in your life, cheesecakes, and at least 48 chicken wings, you had lost count after the first two dozen you had shoved down your throat in between cans of beer. you were seeing double, but you saw clearly the face your best friend was making as you chugged down another beer and before you could stop, there was a deafening pop! and the button on your jeans fell to the floor, bouncing off the cabinet and landing square in the center of the kitchen. you were so embarrassed, tears welling to your eyes. in a rush, you screamed for your friends to leave, refusing to listen to them as they tried to reason with you. after you kicked them out, you walked back into the kitchen, still crying and hot with shame, staggering as you try to bend over and grab the button that taunted you from the floor. you held it in your palm, then looked down at your belly, which was rounded out further than it ever had, and obscured your view of your feet as you glanced down, the movement sloshing all the countless cans of beer in you. your crop top couldn't hide the actual belly you were forming now, and you looked up to your reflection in the black tv. fuck. you looked pregnant. you looked at the cheesecake on the counter as you wiped your tears, one hand grabbing and the round gut spilling out of your jeans. you reached out for the tray, and without pausing ate the rest, not even bothering with silverware as you glutted yourself. before you could stop yourself, you had finished the whole cheesecake, then the rest of the mac n cheese, and then stumbled over yourself to grab the last two cans of beer, pouring them into a big cup together, throwing your head back in desperation as you drank both in seconds. you fall over chairs and tables to get over to the couch, belly so distended you let out a whimper whenever its jostled, and pass out there.

ten years later, you're 29 years old and stepping off the scale in front of your fridge. your mark your weight on the fridge, and open up while reaching for the closest bottle of wine. despite your attempts to lose weight, you've gained 15 pounds in the past month. you're 302 pounds, you wear a 4XL and a 24 in jeans, which are barely hanging on. your ass barely fits in the drivers seat of your car and your bed creaks when you lay on it. you've broken your computer chair so you moved a dining chair into your bedroom, but your thighs spilled over the side, so you had to give up the computer. you hadn't talked to most of your friends in years, probably not since new years after that christmas, where you first fell into your gluttony and addiction. you spent the rest of that break stuffing your face to cope with your feelings, and by the time you were supposed to back to school you were 30 pounds heavier and not a single item of clothing fit your growing body. you were 140 pounds, and the moment you stepped out of your car on shaky legs in front of your sorority sisters, you knew it was over. they all began to laugh, heaving and pointing in malice at the inches of overhang you had falling over your skirt, which was only zipped up halfway, covered by a shirt that looked like it was painted on. you dropped out within a few days and spent the days partying, drinking, and stuffing your face at the end of the night, rubbing your pussy until you came. you couldn't resist the feeling food gave you.

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rinnstars · 2 months ago

Text

impressing you!

itoshi rin attempts to tell you he likes you in questionable ways

itoshi rin x reader : fluff, crack, use of brain rot terms, dti mentioned, super bad ending i’m so sorry idk anymore school got me, not proofread + likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

growing up with itoshi rin with all his personality quirks, you were pretty sure you could expect anything and everything from him - whether that be him showing up at your house at midnight without any warnings, or him wearing your hello kitty pajamas after school for ‘fun’, or even eating frozen cheese straight out of the fridge for breakfast. but nothing could prepare you for what the hell he just asked you.

“what.” one chance for him to take back, or more so one chance for you to regain back your sanity from whatever you just swore to god he asked.

“.. i asked if you’d like to play dress to impress together.. you know because youre always playing it during class.” what the hell.

maybe the world was ending, and you look outside only to now be even more dismayed that the sun is in fact shining, the sky is perfectly blue, and there was no cloud in sight. then maybe this was all a dream after spending the previous night playing games, you pinch yourself and to your horror, you do in fact feel the pain as you nip at your own hand, almost yelping to the oblivious rin sitting beside you. or maybe your eyesight is failing you and you’re seriously deluding yourself that its rin simply after being apart from him for months, you think, removing your glasses and wiping it and nope - that was in fact rin, still wearing a blank face that youre far too used to.

“do you even have a roblox account..” you were 100% sure that whatever horror games you’ve seen him play does not involve roblox and he’s probably more likely to be a discord mod than a roblox player - credited to you friending him on steam and seeing the horror of games he has bought on that app

“.. ill make one now.” and you think maybe blue lock has actually rotted rin’s mind or maybe his friends there has corrupted the rin you once knew.

and instead of spending your math class, you know paying attention and doing the work assigned, there you were at the back row playing dress to impress with itoshi rin attempting his best but clearly not dressing to impress anyone to say the least.

and maybe this is a miracle and an awakening because you were so sure since a little kid that itoshi rin, your best friend in this entire world, do not have any weakness - whether that be in sports (for obvious reasons), in arts (getting an A even though he ‘winged it’), in games (carried you in shooting games and horror games) that maybe you’ve finally discovered his achilles heels that is apparently fashion.. and handling getting humbled by kids on roblox.

“why the hell is this kid calling my outfit skibidi toilet” if anything, in your honest reaction, you’d call me something worst than that looking at the total mess of a outfit he was wearing because why the hell is he wearing two hairs at once that do not merge at all. in fact, you’d be polite to even call whatever he’s just made an outfit in the first place because it looks like he genuinely spun a wheel and picked pieces at random.

even funnier is that you can practically see rin’s ear letting out steam - clearly upset that he’s apparently not winning the top place. if anything, you think its funnier because he doesnt even rage like this playing his competitive shooting game, or when he doesnt get a good grade for his exams, or even when he drops his ice cream when you were little, only when he plays soccer and apparently dress to impress. now maybe with his ego, or whatever he said learnt at blue lock, would be able to let him score a goal (win top place with a good outfit)

however, to his dismay, and to your expectation, he in fact does not win top places, not even top 3, by the end of the hour long math lesson.

and to him, he practically just lost the first tip that bachira told him and as he quotes “if you like someone you’ve got to like have shared interest right?” and clearly and unfortunately he just cannot get into dress to impress in the same way that you just aren’t really interested in football which he completely gets. but now he’s in doubt about his own situation and by that he means the love test percentage thing he was convinced to take by again bachihara - failing at a whooping 15% that he was meant to be your soulmate. but if there’s something he’s good at, its perseverance and he will not give up just because multiple kids in the game called him skibidi toilet

and right now he thinks hes absolutely down bad and he is only proving the allegations that he really has a crush on you when hes spending time after football practice to play dress to impress. even worse, hes looking up online guides on “cheatsheets” to get outfits, entering millions of codes to unlock hidden items, spending the entire night playing this game.

and of course, its at 4:30am when you log in only to find one person playing dress to impress and youre pretty sure this is the equivalant to a sleep paralysis demon as you blink all the sleep away in your eyes to confirm the words in front of you: itoshi rin is playing dress to impress in the middle of the night. more specifically, itoshi rin who preaches about taking care of ones body by sleeping early, eating all three meals, doing yoga every single day is ruining his sleep scheuldue for a roblox game. and as all sleep deprived people do, you send him a message to confirm that its in fact him and not a hacker.

chat

you: r u playing dti or have u not logged out of dti since class 😭😭

rin: playing

you: R U ACTLLY INTO DRESS TO IMPRESS… who r u impressing 🙏🏻🙏🏻

rin: you

and you feel your heart stop - and not because of caffeine, or another realisation that yoive forgotten to do your work right in class or winning a lucky draw from the ice cream you share with rin. but then the realisation hits and youre now instead let down because of course sleep deprived him would say such words that unfortunately made your heart pump because of all the years you’ve known him, you know that whenever he doesnt sleep well, he always becomes a different person, spouting nonsense about everything and anything as all the logic that he’s so used to melts away from his brain. and so you without thinking close your phone and leave itoshi rin on read.

and maybe its even worse that when you wake up, you realise rin sends you the number of stars he’s collected over his overnight grind that’s somehow more than the amount you’ve gathered throughout the weeks of playing dress to impress and even funnier because he’s clearly texting the wrong person.

chat

rin: (1 attachement)

rin: is this a good rank bachiara

rin: should i check if mine n y/n’s soulmate on that love website increased

you: shld be 100%

rin: from 15%?

you: i’m more accurate than it btw r u still on dti

rin: ?

rin: oh ignore

you: no lets play tgt actlly vote me 5* i need to have more stars than u

and you can’t wait to go to math class to play dress to impress with rin at the back of the class (spoiler alert: he won all the rounds somehow) now dating (he gives you five stars)

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #rin.<3 #itoshi rin fluff #bllk fluff #i want to play dress to impress so bad but exams r preventing me from doing so #need someone to boost me by falsely voting me five stars every round hiiii

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machveil · 3 months ago

Note

if you're still taking blurb requests could you maybe do octopus hybrid könig who thinks he's doing a great job at hiding his secret of being an eldritch horror (he isn't) x roommate reader who knows but doesn't care? like they're both chilling on the couch, watching a movie, and reader subtly nudges a tentacle back under his hood after they caught it poking out. basically just könig being a goofy idiot:)

(König x Reader sketch at the end♥️✨) König, bless his heart, was confident in his ability to keep his eldritch appearance under lock and key. to his credit, he’d never had a roommate - it was muscle memory to perform certain tasks with the help of an extra arm.

when you moved in he was inwardly cocky. you’d never know that you were sharing an apartment with an eldritch nightmare of a man, what a silly little mortal! König was just too good at putting up a facade, his mask concealing tentacles that would no doubt alarm you.

to be fair, it did freak you out when you first saw them. it was just out of your peripheral, light reflecting off the glistening appendages. König, stood in the kitchen, idly washing dishes. two hands washing and rinsing ceramic plates, two tentacles drying them and putting them on a rack.

it was muscle memory for him, completely unaware of your presence and simply doing chores with extra help. caught up in his own world, you stood frozen, but ultimately decided he seemed harmless. you had been living with him for a month, and he was polite, always paid his half of the rent…

why mess up something good? if he didn’t bring it up, neither would you.

a year easily passed by, König’s well hidden secret never mentioned. he was so pleased with himself. you were none the wiser, right Maus? just his innocent little roommate, treating him like a normal man. he didn’t need to know about how you caught him carrying in groceries by himself five months ago - hands full, two tentacles easily carrying in the other bags. he didn’t need to know you saw him through the crack of his bedroom door two months ago, folding laundry while a tentacle was tucking his bedsheets in. he didn’t need to know that he had a tentacle out right now.

it was a lazy, stay-in-your-pajamas sort of night. the living room lights flicked off while a documentary played (König insisted that “this documentary is good, Maus— look, they talk about different species of mollusks.”). he was completely focused on the screen, relaxed against the couch and zoned in. so relaxed that a tentacle had slipped past the hem of his mask.

you didn’t think much of it, you’d grown accustomed to seeing his tentacles. that said, you’d never been so close to one. eyes flicking up towards his face, your hand slowly moves up. his gaze, completely on the tv, gives you the smallest bit of confidence to poke at the appendage. he didn’t seem to care, only when you finally moved it back under his hood did he glance down at you, an exasperated little sigh leaving him.

looks like you finally caught him.

(thank you for the inbox! I loved the idea so much - I hope the art is okay! I kept it sketchy and had fun drawing it🎀✨ I haven’t legitimately written anything since, like, sixth grade so I hope this wasn’t absolutely terrible lol)

#art #sketch #doodle #fanart #konig #könig #könig cod #könig x reader #monster!könig #monster!könig x reader #könig fanart #könig x you #könig call of duty #hit post

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seoltzuki · 2 months ago

Text

Field Trip

sana x fem reader

fluff, suggestive 2.5K words

Teacher Sana, librarian reader, and the crew chaperone a year-end trip for the kids graduating elementary school. It’s exciting, it’s changing, we’re arguing, ugh!

a/n: sequel to Sunshine :) also chae, momo, tzu, mina and nayeon are in sixth grade now so you know… they change

You wrinkle your forehead, pondering which books would be perfect for story time on the upcoming trip. It’s the kids’ final year at this school—should you choose something about the teenage years, high school drama? Or keep their imaginations alive with something more whimsical? They’ve grown so moody and sharp-tongued, you wonder if they’ll even sit still long enough for a story.

The soft creak of the library door catches your attention, and you don’t need to turn around to know who it is. Her scent pulls you in as she draws closer. Hands slide around your waist from behind, and you can’t help but smile. “My sunshine,” Sana murmurs, planting a gentle kiss on your jaw.

You hum softly, half-lost in thought, as Sana’s lips brush against the back of your neck. Her hands glide up, fingers tracing your sides, slow and teasing. “What’s got you thinking so hard?” she whispers, her lips close to your ear, voice low and playful. You try to focus, but her touch is persistent, her fingers pressing into your waist just enough to make your breath hitch.

“I’m just… trying to figure out the right books for the kids,” you manage, though your voice wavers when Sana’s hands slip to your hips, pulling you back gently against her.

“Mmm, always working. My baby’s so good and perfect,” she purrs, letting her lips trail down your neck. “Need me? There’s a few ways I can help.” Her hands wander, and the warmth of her body presses into you as she sways you both, ever so slightly.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your thoughts straight, but she’s relentless, her touch making it hard to think about anything except her. “Sana,” you say, though it’s more of a breath than a warning.

“Hmm?” she replies, her voice full of mischief as her hands drift higher. “Let me help.”

You sigh, fighting to stay focused. “I’m serious, Sana,” you manage to say, though your voice is unsteady with the way her lips linger on your neck, her touch making it hard to concentrate.

“I’m serious too,” she whispers, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, grazing your skin and sending a shiver through you. Her lips press a soft kiss just behind your ear, and your breath catches. “The kids love a bit of adventure, some magic…” she murmurs, her voice like silk, while her fingers trace slow, teasing patterns on your waist.

Your heart skips a beat as she nuzzles closer, lips brushing behind your ear again. “We could always read them a horror story,” she says, her tone playful. “Better than scaring them with teenage high school doom. They’ll get enough of that next fall.”

Sana’s hands glide up your sides before she gently turns you around to face her, her eyes soft and warm. She smiles, so sweetly, so full of love that your chest tightens. “I know you’ll find the best books,” she whispers, her voice full of affection. “You’re always so great at that.”

The tenderness in her words makes you lean in, closing the distance between you. Your lips meet hers, and you feel the soft, surprised moan escape from her as your kiss deepens. She melts against you, a giggle bubbling up as she pulls back slightly, eyes gleaming.

“Didn’t expect that, huh?” you murmur, brushing your thumb across her cheek as she beams up at you.

Sana’s grin turns sly as her fingers trace slow circles on your hips. “Nope, but I’m definitely not complaining,” she murmurs, leaning in, her lips inches from yours. “Kiss me again?”

Her hands slide down past your hips, and you can feel the way her chest presses into yours during each breath. “Sana…” you begin, but she just giggles, her lips brushing yours.

“Sunshine…” she whispers, as she tilts her head to give you puppy eyes. Her hands roam higher, her breath warm against your lips. “Please?”

You laugh softly. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” she teases, before you lean in to give her another kiss.

I do love you.

~~~

The bus buzzes with excitement as everyone settles in for the trip. Jeongyeon stands at the front, clipboard in hand, doing a final headcount. “Is everyone here?”

Up by the driver, Jihyo is confirming last-minute details, her phone in one hand as she gestures to the route on her screen. She catches your eye, giving you a quick nod before returning to her conversation.

A few rows back, Sana and Dahyun are busy sorting snacks. “Granola bars or apples?” Dahyun asks, while Sana grins, already handing out gummy bears to the nearby kids.

You unfold the itinerary Jihyo gave you earlier, scanning the plans for the next three days—hiking, a museum visit, and a campfire night. The schedule is packed, but it looks fun. The bus engine rumbles and you glance out the window, watching the school fade away.

“Miss Sunshine, are you excited?” Nayeon’s voice breaks your focus. She pops her head over the seat in front of you, her bunny smile wide and playful.

You grin back at her, her bangs now gone, showing off more of her face. “Yeah, I’m excited! It’s going to be great!”

Nayeon rests her chin on the seatback, her eyes twinkling. “Yay! Just checking if these plans are fun enough,” she teases, nodding toward the itinerary in your lap.

Before you can answer, Mina shyly peeks over the seat beside her, her chubby cheeks almost gone but her smile still soft and sweet. “Are you excited too?” she asks quietly.

You nod, returning her gentle smile. “Yeah, definitely. What about you, sweetheart?”

“A little nervous,” Mina admits with a shy laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I think it’ll be fun.”

Nayeon playfully pokes Mina’s nose. “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you have a blast!”

Just as you’re about to respond, a loud groan comes from the back of the bus. You turn around to see Chaeyoung glaring at Momo, who’s casually chewing something.

“What’s going on back there?” you ask.

“Stupid Momo ate my gummies!” Chaeyoung exclaims, slapping Momo’s arm.

Momo shrugs, still chewing, her eyes fixed on the window. “You can’t even eat them with those ugly braces of yours,” she says, totally unfazed.

You gasp, ready to step in, but Sana’s already on it. She steps forward, arms crossed, her tone firm. “Apologize. Both of you. Now.”

Chaeyoung and Momo mumble half-hearted apologies. Before Jeongyeon can jump in to scold them, Dahyun calls out urgently, “Tzuyu’s getting car sick!”

The bus is quickly descending into chaos, and you sigh, glancing back at the itinerary. It’s only the beginning of the trip, and things are already getting ugh!

~~~

The museum is cool and quiet, the soft echo of footsteps and hushed voices filling the space as you stand in front of a large exhibit on historical archives. The kids gather around you, their curious eyes wide as they listen.

Tzuyu raises her hand and you can’t help but notice how much she’s grown. She’s nearly your height now, standing out from the group of students, and you smile at the memory of her being one of the shortest in the group not too long ago.

“But how do people even know what’s important to keep?” She asks, her wide eyes full of genuine wonder. “Like… how do you choose what goes into an archive?”

You smile, glad to see her so engaged. “That’s a great question, Tzuyu. Archivists look at what’s relevant to people’s lives, cultures, and history. We collect things that tell stories about how people lived, what they valued, what they struggled with. Sometimes, it’s big events or, it’s something small—like letters, or old photos. It’s about piecing together the whole story.”

Tzuyu nods thoughtfully, clearly thinking it over, and beside her, Momo speaks up next. “So, like… even regular people’s stuff gets kept? Not just famous people?”

“Exactly,” you say, nodding. “Everyone’s story matters, not just the famous ones. That’s why personal archives are so important.”

You glance at Sana for a brief moment. She’s leaning against the wall in the back, her eyes never leaving you. There’s a glow in her expression, like she’s seeing you in a new light, utterly in awe of how effortlessly you share your passion with the kids. Her gaze makes you feel warm inside, and you can’t help but stand a little taller.

Before you can continue, Nayeon adds, “Wait, so do you think in a hundred years, people are going to be looking at our old texts and selfies in an archive?”

The group breaks into giggles, but you nod. “It’s possible! Digital archives are a huge part of the future. What we share online, what we document today, might be what future generations use to understand our world. So yeah, even your selfies could be a part of history.”

The kids laugh again as Sana catches your eye again from the back, mouthing the words, “you’re amazing. I love you.” You can feel the pride swelling in her chest. It’s as if she’s soaking up every bit of who you are in this moment, her eyes filled with deep affection. You smile softly at her before turning back to the kids.

"Should we go for lunch, class?"

"Yes!"

~~~

The food court is busy as you settle into your seat with the staff, Sana comfortably by your side. You take a bite of your sandwich, feeling her hand resting gently on your thigh under the table, her thumb tracing soft circles that bring a smile to your lips.

As your gaze drifts to the students’ table, you spot Momo happily sharing her food with Chaeyoung, who clutches her “prehistoric” bone—something she bought at the souvenir shop. "You wouldn’t get it Miss, it’s Tim Burton aesthetic," she explained, eyes sparkling. A little odd, but you can’t help but chuckle at the sight.

Jeongyeon leans in with a playful grin. “They grow up so fast, don’t they?”

You nod, the bittersweet reality sinking in. “Yeah... bummer this is my last year with them.”

Before you can dwell on it, Jihyo chimes in from across the table, a mischievous glint in her eye as she winks at Sana. “Well, not for everyone. Some of us will still be following them.”

The comment catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily confused, but before you can respond, Dahyun cuts in with a flourish. “I’m sending all my energy to the high school nurse. They’re going to need it when this bunch shows up!”

Laughter fills the air, and the lighthearted teasing continues. Sana’s hand remains on your thigh, her fingers shifting to rub gentle circles on your lower back.

She leans a little closer, “I can’t wait for summer break,” she says, glancing at you with a soft smile. “Finally, we’ll have time to rest, recharge, and—” she pauses, her tone dripping with affection, “I’ll finally get to spend time with my girl.”

The second she finishes, a chorus of groans erupts from around the table.

“Oh, here we go again,” Jihyo sighs, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Seriously?” Jeongyeon adds, shaking her head with an amused smirk. “Can’t we get through one meal without you two being all lovey-dovey?”

Even Dahyun joins in, mock-fanning herself. “So sweet it’s giving me cavities.”

Sana simply scrunches her nose and nudges you lightly, her eyes sparkling with love.

My sunshine that I love so much.

~~~

The campfire crackles as you get ready to set up for story time. Just as you arrange the last few details, the kids come bustling into the cabin, their faces alight with mischief.

Mina steps forward, holding something carefully in her hands. She gives you a shy smile before presenting a handmade card, decorated with bits of books, photos, and “Thank You” written in neat, colorful letters. Your heart swells at the sight of it.

You chuckle, shaking your head, when Nayeon speaks up next. “We’re gonna miss you so much! Our favourite librarian!” she says, leaning in, her bunny smile on full display. “We’ll make sure to ask Miss. Minatozaki for updates on you.”

You pause, confused. “Oh?”

Before Nayeon can answer, Momo chimes in, smirking. “Sana told us she’s coming with us to high school. She’ll be our teacher there!”

The room stills for a moment as you process the words. Sana, in high school? She never mentioned that.

“Yeah!” Tzuyu bounces excitedly. “She said she’ll follow us!”

A weight settles in your chest, but you push it aside for now. Smiling, you pull the kids in for a hug. “Thank you for the beautiful gift,” you say softly, holding them close.

The door opens, and Sana walks in, her eyes lighting up as soon as she sees you with the kids. “My sunshine and my favorite students,” she says warmly, her smile bright. The kids giggle, but you remain quiet, your mind stuck on what they just said.

“High school, huh?” you ask, your tone a little sharper than you intended.

Sana’s smile falters, sensing the shift. She quickly turns to the kids. “Why don’t you go help with the marshmallows outside?”

The kids rush out, arguing playfully about who will get to roast the first one, and you’re left standing with Sana.

Sensing the weight of your silence, she steps closer, reaching out to take your hand gently. You hesitate for a moment, but eventually let her hold it, feeling the familiar comfort in her touch. She gives your hand a soft squeeze, searching your face, and for a brief second, you squeeze back.

“Sana...” you start, trying to find the right words.

Before you can continue, she says quietly, “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. I thought—”

You take a breath, whispering as you finally respond, “Look, I’m happy for you. It’s a big step in your career, a new chapter. Go for it.”

Sana’s eyes drop to your hand in hers, and though she’s still holding on, you can feel the tension growing. You offer a small smile, trying to reassure her.

“I just... need to go finish setting up for story time,” you say softly, pulling your hand from hers and stepping toward the door.

“y/n, wait!”

~~~

Story time had been a complete success. The kids were captivated (and petrified, thanks to Jeongyeon) by every word, huddled around the campfire as the horror story unfolded. Now, the cabin is quiet, save for the soft sounds of their peaceful breaths. You step inside to check on them one last time. Tzuyu is curled up in Nayeon’s arms, Mina’s head rests on Chaeyoung’s legs, and Momo is sprawled out in her usual starfish position, taking up an unnecessary amount of space on the bed.

You smile tenderly, a yawn creeping up on you as exhaustion from the long day finally settles in. Jeongyeon and Dahyun bid their goodnights, leaving for their own cabins while you stay behind to help Jihyo with the cleanup.

“Thanks for sticking around to help,” Jihyo whispers with a tired smile, stacking the last of the blankets.

“No problem. Just a bit more to go,” you reply, picking up a bucket of water to extinguish the dying fire outside.

As you step out into the cool night air, the stars twinkling above, you feel a gentle tug on your arm. Turning, you find Sana standing there, her eyes filled uncertainty.

“Can we talk?” she asks quietly, her voice barely louder than the soft rustling of the trees.

You set the bucket down, your heart heavy with everything left unsaid between you. Nodding, you let her pull you to the campfire.

Sana leads you to the glow of the campfire, where the night feels even quieter. She stops, turning to face you, her fingers still gently wrapped around your wrist.

She sighs, eyes searching yours. “I didn’t mean to keep you in the dark about... high school,” she says softly. Her voice wavers slightly, but she holds your gaze, her brow furrowed with concern.

You look at her, feeling the weight of her words settle in. “I just wish you would’ve told me,” you admit. “I mean, I’m happy for you, really. It’s a huge step. But... that’s something I needed to hear from you.”

Sana winces slightly at your words, her thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on your wrist. “I didn’t want to upset you. I just... I thought this was something we could figure out together later.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Later? Sana, they all knew before I did.”

Her lips part to respond, but she stops herself, dropping her gaze to the ground. She takes a breath before speaking again. “I didn’t realize how much it would hurt you. I just... I thought you’d be proud, and we’d find a way to make it work.”

Your heart softens at her words, but there’s still a dull ache in your chest. “It’s not that I’m not proud of you. You’re amazing. But we’ve always worked through things together. This feels like... you’re moving on without me.”

Sana’s eyes widen, and she quickly steps closer, her hands now cupping your face. “No, no, I’m not moving on without you. I could never do that. I was going to tell you, I promise, but everything happened so fast with the kids, and I thought... I thought I had time.”

You let out a quiet breath, leaning into her touch as she speaks. The sincerity in her voice is enough to make your frustration melt away just a little.

“I don’t want to lose us,” she whispers, her eyes searching yours again, filled with worry. “I want us to be okay.”

You nod, your hand coming up to rest on hers, squeezing gently. “We will be. We just... need to communicate better. No more surprises like this.”

Sana bites her lip, then nods quickly. “No more surprises.” She pulls you closer, resting her forehead against yours for a long moment.

“I love you,” she murmurs. “And I’ll figure out how to make this work for both of us.”

You close your eyes, taking in the moment, feeling the tension between you ease slightly. “I love you too,” you whisper back.

Sana’s hands slide from your cheeks to your nape. She leans in, her lips pressing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. When she pulls back, her gaze is filled with nothing but love and sincerity.

"I love you," she whispers, her voice barely audible as she kisses you again. Another kiss follows, each one a little more insistent, like she’s trying to convey everything she feels through the tender brush of her lips.

"I love you," she repeats, her voice growing softer with every kiss. She peppers your face with them—your lips, your cheeks, the corner of your mouth—each one carrying the same words. "I love you... I love you."

You can’t help but smile between her kisses, your heart swelling as her warmth surrounds you. The tension from before dissolves completely, replaced by the reassurance of her love and the depth of her affection.

Sana finally pulls back just a fraction, her nose pressing against your cheek as she breathes out, “I love you,” one last time, her voice barely a whisper.

You close your eyes, soaking in the moment, feeling the world fade around you, leaving just the two of you standing there in the cool night air.

After a few heartbeats, you pull away slightly, your smile mirroring hers. “We’re going to be okay,” you say softly.

Sana nods, her hands still cradling your face as she smiles, eyes glistening. “Together,” she whispers.

~~~

Sana’s hands roam your back as she pulls you closer, her lips warm and insistent against yours. The soft hum of your office fades as you melt into the kiss, her familiar, teasing energy filling the space between you. Sana breaks away for a second, her breath tickling your skin as she whispers, "You know, we could just stay here... a little longer."

Her lips find your neck, and you let out a soft laugh, half-heartedly trying to push her away. "Sana, you’re terrible."

"Terribly in love," she murmurs, her hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt as her lips brush against your collarbone. You tilt your head back, losing yourself in the moment until—

The phone rings.

With a groan, you reach for the receiver, catching Sana’s pout out of the corner of your eye. You press it to your ear, trying to steady your breath.

"Hello?"

"Y/N, stop kissing Sana in your office and get back to your library," Jihyo’s voice comes through, sharp but teasing.

You freeze, your face heating up. "W-What? I’m not—"

"You are," Jihyo cuts you off, a hint of amusement in her tone. "The entire high school is waiting for you to unlock the doors. Get moving!"

You glance at Sana, who’s biting her lip to keep from laughing. She leans in, mouthing, busted.

You roll your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. "Right, right. I’ll be there in a minute," you say, before hanging up the phone.

Sana giggles, slipping her arms around your waist again. "Looks like we’ve been caught."

"Yeah, thanks to you," you laugh, giving her a playful shove. "Come on, we’ve got a school waiting."

Sana sighs dramatically, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before stepping back. "Fine, fine. But tonight," she says, winking as she heads for the door, "I’m not letting you escape."

You shake your head with a smile, grabbing your keys and following her out.

~~~

Extra

The group sits sprawled across their usual corner in the cafeteria, as if they own the place. Nayeon, perched in the center, knows she’s the it girl and doesn’t even try to hide it. She leans back in her chair, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she flips through her phone. Her lips curve in a satisfied smile whenever someone from another table glances their way.

"Honestly," Nayeon says, voice dripping with dramatic flair, "I can’t help it if people want to be me."

Chaeyoung, who’s been doodling something vaguely surreal and definitely weird on a napkin, looks up with a snort. "Yeah, well, try being original for once." She holds up her drawing—a mishmash of creatures and odd geometric shapes. "Now this is what people should be looking at."

Nayeon squints at it and tilts her head. "Is that… a lizard playing guitar with a tree trunk?"

Chaeyoung beams proudly. "Close. It’s a frog shredding on an electric cactus."

Momo, sitting beside them, can barely keep her eyes open. Her head is resting in her arms on the table, and she groans sleepily. "Why are we talking so loud… Can’t we just take a nap? Lunch break is for resting, not arguing over frogs."

Tzuyu, towering over everyone, stifles a laugh as she listens to the banter. Even though she’s practically taller than half the faculty, to the others, she’s still the baby of the group. She reaches over to pat Momo’s head, as if soothing a child. "You’re always sleepy. Maybe if you didn’t stay up binge-watching food documentaries, you’d be awake enough to hear Chaeyoung’s masterpiece."

Momo grumbles, not lifting her head. "They’re calming. And educational. Unlike your jokes, Tzuyu."

Tzuyu, with her trademark deadpan expression, shrugs. "I make excellent jokes. You’re just too tired to appreciate them."

Chaeyoung leans back, grinning. "I’ll give you that. Tzuyu’s funnier than people give her credit for."

"But she’s still our baby," Nayeon teases, reaching over to pinch Tzuyu’s cheek. "Our little giant baby."

Tzuyu sighs dramatically, gently swatting Nayeon’s hand away. "I’m literally the tallest one here. And I’m not a baby."

"Aw, don’t worry," Momo mumbles sleepily, barely raising her head. "You’ll always be the group’s baby, no matter how tall you get."

Tzuyu rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, knowing she’ll never win this battle. Instead, she reaches over to take a sip of her drink, pretending not to care.

Mina, who’s been quietly fiddling with her handheld gaming console throughout the entire conversation, finally chimes in. "I think we should all just get into gaming and forget about all this."

Chaeyoung leans over to peek at Mina’s screen. "What are you playing now? Is it that alien spaceship game again?"

Mina nods enthusiastically. "It’s the latest version. Way more levels, better graphics… It’s amazing."

Nayeon rolls her eyes affectionately. "You’re such a nerd, Mina. If you spent half as much time on your social life as you do on video games…"

Mina looks up, flashing a rare but dazzling smile. "But where’s the fun in that?"

Chaeyoung cackles, clearly on Mina’s side. "You tell her, Mina."

Momo, eyes still half-closed, raises a finger in the air. "I support Mina."

Tzuyu gives an approving nod. "I can get behind that too."

Nayeon sighs in mock defeat, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Fine. I guess gaming is kind of cool. But you all better still bow down to your queen." She flashes her infamous bunny smile, knowing full well they never would—but it doesn’t matter. She’s the Nayeon, after all.

The group dissolves into laughter. Even with their quirks and differences, they’re a family. They’ve watched each other grow, change, and yet somehow, they’re still the same.

#twice x reader #twice imagines #twice scenarios #kpop imagines #twice smut #gg x reader #gg imagines #sana x reader #sana fluff #sana smut #kpop scenarios #kpop smut

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boydepartment · 1 year ago

Text

three strikes - nishimura riki x fem! reader

a/n: HIIIIII this was a request from my 🧈 anon :3 i hope you love it my dear

warnings- jealousy! nothing insane tho, mostly fluff 😋 i added a small inside joke that riki would call ricky from zb1 “discount ricky” all jokes tho (pls don’t kill me)

wc- honestly over 750

MASTERLIST

“here.” you looked over to riki setting your drink down on the table, you looked up at him and smiled as he sat down across from you at the cafe table.

“did you-“

“ask for extra peppermint? yes. even though it’s gross..” riki mumbled, you giggled and sipped your hot coco. it was freezing cold at least to you and so the coco helped a lot.

“when is your project partner arriving?” riki mumbled, sipping his coffee.

you shrugged, “any minute.” setting your coco down riki watched you, he wasn’t necessarily happy over this whole project partner thing. riki knew your project partner, and safe to say he was just irritated by his presence. he didn’t know why, but he was just irked.

so when the OTHER ricky walked in, he just waved and watched as the other boy sat next to you.

“hey y/n!” he smiled, you grinned back at him.

“hey! it’s cold outside are you sure you’re bundled up enough?” you asked, grabbing your books. riki just decided to go on his phone to pass time.

“yeah! it’s crazy how quickly the weather changed huh? are you warm enough?”

you and ricky made small talk which didn’t bother your best friend. that was until one sentence.

“your hands are freezing y/n!”

riki’s eyes shot up to see the discount ricky’s hands on yours. if stares could kill a man, discount ricky would be six feet under.

“oh! yeah that’s why riki, well, my riki got me hot coco.” you let go of his hand and turned to your hot beverage.

nishimura riki would be lying if he said some pride didn’t bubble up inside him, which didn’t go unnoticed by the boy sitting next to you.

riki didn’t take notice and he went back on his phone, he just wanted your project to be over so he could walk back to the car with you and just be away from people. by people he meant discount ricky. this was strike one for his patience.

“i think we should work more on the details of the piece of art itself. like things that normal people look past in monet’s art. there’s a story everywhere.” you suggested, this art project was pretty big for your grade. and you were just relieved that your project partner agreed to do monet.

“that’s such a good idea y/n.” ricky smiled.

oh please riki thought to himself, at that point discount ricky should just get on his hands and knees and beg for your attention. that’d be way less embarrassing than kissing your ass at every little- wait what the hell

to riki’s horror, discount ricky, was readjusting your beanie so your hair didn’t get in your face. this pissed him off, strike two of his patience gone. riki was the one who spent HOURS trying to crochet you that beanie last year and now he’s going to have to make you another one because discount ricky’s grimy hands touched it! riki felt his eye twitch, he ended up making eye contact with the boy next to you. a smirk ghosting his features.

riki wanted to kick his shin under the table or maybe throw his hot coffee-

“i think we should also choose one of monet’s less known works aswe- oh ouch…” you mumbled rubbing your hands, whenever you wrote or sketched too long your hands would hurt. riki always took notice of this so he looked up proper hand massages- safe to say he could be certified- WHAT THE SHIT?

discount ricky grabbed your hands and started massaging them.

strike three

“can you get your hands off her?!” riki finally snapped, “god at this point it’s revolting! i’m right in front of both of you!”

your eyes widened as you watched you best friend actually lose his temper, yeah you’d seen him bicker but this was different.

“what are you two dating?” ricky asked, if you were in a tv show you’d see the angry lightening bolt hit both of them. this was not good, you quickly packed your bags and grabbed your best friend. apologizing to your project partner.

“what’s his fucking problem?!” riki stomped through the fresh snow to your car.

“what’s his problem?! what’s your problem? what the hell was that?! are you okay?!” you had a million questions. and they were flying out.

“i- what- how is this my fault!? he had his grimy discount ricky hands all over you! only i’m allowed to do that as your best friend!”

it was really hard to take him seriously as you finally got to the car laughing. you leaned against the hood trying to catch your breath.

“y/n this isn’t funny!” he stood right next to you.

you finally caught your breath, “i’m sorry where did the nickname discount ricky come from?”

“well obviously i’m the better one way more deserving of, um hello, touching your hair, massaging your hands because im youtube certified, AND THE COLD HANDS THING?! he was flirting with you shamelessly in front of me!” riki swung his arms around like a crazy person trying to explain that the end was near.

your hat fell slightly as you laughed again which riki fixed gently before speaking again, “then he’d smirk at me like he knew he was getting on my nerves! like that discount version of ME KNEW HE WAS MAKING ME ANGRY!”

“should i take my hat off and give you sanitizer? since you touched my discount ricky infected beanie?” you asked, unlocking the car and throwing your backpack in the back. you turned around and bumped into riki.

“actually yeah take off that hat. i will sanitize it and crochet you a new one.” riki grabbed the hat off your head and gave you his own beanie.

“should i sanitize my hands too?” you asked giggling, going to open your door but slipping on black ice.

riki immediately caught you, “um guess who couldn’t catch you- discount ricky. i’m clearly better for you so.”

you started laughing again, hitting his chest playfully, “you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend.”

“is that a bad thing?” riki asked quickly, suddenly unsure of himself.

you shook your head no, “it’s cute.”

riki smiled down at you; it was obvious he was at least a little smug.

“you know what he didn’t contaminate?” you asked, still giggling, your eyes flickered from riki’s eyes to his lips. immediately he got the hint and took his chance.

discount ricky is out and nishimura riki hit a home run

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ponderingmoonlight · 1 year ago

Text

Gojo's wife going berserk in order to protect her students

Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader

Word Count: 1,7k

Synopsis: Like your bad feeling already suggested, especially Toge's and Yuji's lives hang on a threat when their mission doesn't go as planned. Good for them that Gojo's wife and their teacher rushes to their side and shows everyone just how much she cares about them.

Warnings: language, violence (lol), again, (y/n) is a badass in this one

You can find Part l of that fic here

Your foot tabs against the metal of the chair, eyes swaying back and forth between the clock and door. It’s been way too long. Way too long for your students to be gone, way too long for them to arrive in safety.

It’s not like you didn’t have a bad feeling from the start. When your husband told you about the mission in an abandoned mall with only one grade 1 curse to defeat, you simply couldn’t believe it at first.

“Don’t worry about it, Gojo-sensei! Toge and I have everything under control!”

“Salmon”, Toge added with a friendly grin.

You hated to let them go on their own. But after all, it’s not a secret how skilled your students are, their abilities might even surpass your own in a few years. Why would you have to be worry?

“Hey, still sitting here, handsome?”

A weak smile forms itself on your lips when none other than your husband sits down next to you and begins to draw small circles on your sensitive back.

“You’re worrying way too much babe, I’m sure both of them are fine. After all, Toge is with Yuji and proved often enough that he’s able to fulfil missions on his own.”

Deep down, you know that your husband is right, that you probably worry about nothing. But still, that bad feeling in your guts…

“Are you sure this was a grade 2 curse? Maybe the elders lied about that as well…”, you grumble, memories of your last encounter flooding your mind.

Would they really be so stupid as to pass you over again? You thought you made your point of view very clear when you threatened a whole room of elders back then…

“Nothing else was reported and the extent of destruction wasn’t bad enough for anything stronger than a grade 2 curse. Hey, look at me.”

Gently, your husband cups your face with both hands, staring at you intensely with his bright blue orbs.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, okay? You trained them so well, just relax a bit”, he purrs against your lips.

Your heart pounds against your ribcage in an instant, the way he looks down at you making your mouth water. How is it even possible for a human being to look this delicious?

“Maybe you’ll be able to distract me”, you mutter, arms wrapping themselves around your husband’s neck.

Oh, the way he presses his warm body against your aching one makes your crotch throb and breath hitch. Despite the fact that you are married for over 5 years by now, he sweeps you off your feet like on day one.

“I wonder what you wear underneath that uniform today…”

“(y/n), you need to-“

Megumi stops in his tracks, eyes widen in pure horror while he desperately tries to shove Panda and Maki out of the room.

“What are you doing here?”, you breathe out in utter surprise, cheeks still hot and pink by the way your husband touched you just seconds ago.

Oh god, this is so uncomfortable. Especially Megumi is like your very own child since Satoru decided to raise him. And the disgusted face Maki makes…

“Get yourself together Fushiguro”, she hisses while clearing her throat.

“Ijichi informed us about the fact that something seems to be off regarding Itadori’s and Inumaki’s mission. He couldn’t reach you himself, so he sent us to let you know you should support them.”

“Well, at least now we know why she didn’t answer her phone…”

“SHUT UP PANDA, THIS IS SERIOUS!”

Your heart nearly stops, all the desire you felt just moments ago dies in an instant. Did you hear that correctly? Something seems to be off? You’ve had a bad feeling about this right from the start, didn’t want both of them to go on their own. And now…

Now their lives might be in serious danger.

“I’m leaving right now”, you reply in an instant, already on your way to the door when your husband grabs your hand.

“Wait, we don’t even know what’s going on. Normally I’m the one who jumps into conclusions.”

“They are my students and it is my responsibility to make sure they’re safe, Satoru. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror tomorrow if I let them down now. Yuji is still in his first year and unexperienced when it comes to fighting. And while Toge is very skilled and thoughtful, even his abilities have their limits. I’ll do whatever I can to protect them if I have the chance.”

With a small smile he lets go of you, looking after your confident walk out. Oh, whatever is responsible for that mess will definitely pay for it.

-at the curtain-

“I came as fast as I could. What is the problem?”, you ask Ijichi the minute you get out of the car.

“Even though I’m not entirely sure, there might be the possibility that another curse appeared within the curtain…”, he slowly begins.

That fearful look on his face paired with the sweat on his forehead…No, this isn’t a speculation. Another curse appeared in there for sure.

“Who was responsible for investigating here before? How careless”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Ijichi swallows hard. You are a true sweetheart, everyone’s favourite back at Jujutsu High. But when it comes to your students, you change drastically. Your eyes harden, usual so kind face turning stone cold. You shove what looks like an asthma spray into your pocket.

“Whatever, this is not the right time to search for whoever screwed up. My students need me.”

With fast and confident steps, you walk through the curtain with ease.

Only to be greeted by pure chaos.

Only to be greeted by Toge, who lays in front of you unconscious.

Fuck. Your heart hammers against your chest, hands clenching into fists in an instant. No, this wasn’t a grade 2 curse. This has to be something bigger, something that shouldn’t be here.

“Gojo-sensei!”, Yuji screams on top of his lungs while being chased by a grotesque creature.

You can tell by one look that this is a grade 1 – strong, but not unbeatable especially for both boys. So what caused this chaos? What is going on here?

Without thinking twice, you sprint towards the pink-haired boy, crushing the curse behind him with your bare fist.

“Yuji, are you alright? Did you get hurt? What happened to Toge?”

You scan his body for visible injuries, a wave of relief washing over you when all you are able to detect are a few bruises and scratches.

“There…There…Are…So…Much…M-more…”

He can’t catch his breath, completely exhausted by the fight that has to be on for hours by now.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here now. Would you please hurry to Toge and give him this medicine? I will take care of whatever is left here”, you ensure him gently, your hand running up and down his back.

“Gojo-sensei, watch out!”

Just in time, you position yourself in front of Yuji. Just before he gets hit by the merciless attack of another curse, just before a whole wave of monsters rushes towards you.

“Do what I told you. I have your back.”

And again, you dash forward. These fuckers have some nerves, injuring both of your students so badly. Why are they here? How was it even able for them to stay in the shadows with no one noticing their presence?

“You have some nerve”, you hiss towards them.

“Hurting two of my students. I’ll make you regret even existing.”

Slash after slash, fist after fist you tear them to the ground, body almost swallowed by purple blood that soaks through your uniform without mercy. No one is able to hurt your precious students without paying for it. No curse, no elders, no jujutsu sorcerer.

“Are you here to protect those boys? Pathetic, all of you will die right here”, a distorted voice behind you barks.

“I’m here to kill everyone who gets in my way. Especially fuckers like you.”

You sprint forward, sight completely numbed by the thick rage that runs through your veins. The way your fists fly through the air at neck-breaking speed leaves Yuji speechless next to Toge’s unconscious body, eyes not even able to follow your rapid movements. He has never seen you like this, so full of fury with your face distorted by hatred. Of course, it was never a secret to anyone at Jujutsu High that you are strong, rumours saying you even threatened the elders for your student’s sake. But at this very moment, you look almost possessed, slaughtering curse after curse until nothing except for purple rain is left of them.

“Hey, are you okay?”, you request towards Yuji softly, your hand placed on his shoulder.

There you are again, the (y/n) he knows and admires, the kind woman everyone at Jujutsu High talks so highly about. The only thing revealing what you did earlier being the purple blood still sticking to your whole body. Otherwise, your face looks as flawless as ever, eyes gleaming in kindness while you inspect Toge’s body.

“It seems like he’s worn-out, but otherwise fine. Did he take his throat medicine? His cursed speech demands a lot from him and sometimes, Toge seems to be unable to assess his own situation.”

Yuji just stares at you shamelessly, how you caress Toge’s cheek with as much care as usual. Was that really you who just slaughtered at least 50 curses within the span of a few minutes? Was it really you who spoke to one of the curses earlier with your voice frightening cold?

“Is something wrong, Yuji?”

“It’s just…I’ve never seen you like this, Gojo-sensei. You were so badass”, the boy next to you breathes out.

“Let me tell you something: No one on this earth is able to hurt my students without backlash. Whoever hurts any of you will get hurt by me. Or killed.”

“Gojo-sensei is really lucky to have a wife like you”, Yuji suddenly blurts out.

You can’t help but giggle, carefully lifting Toge’s numb body off the ground and through the disappearing curse.

“Oh, please tell him exactly that when we’re back.”

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