#supposed to be my reflection about death

[milamurart]

Carrion Comfort - aeseaes

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

None of our hands are clean

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[ccbatman]

actually so evil how much of hal's internal world gets obliterated with the rewriting of his relationships with jessica and martin.

[krbkss]

mha 395

has anyone brought this up yet </3

[yellobb]

I just love that I can think about something a little too hard and it suddenly feels like it’s real.

I’m sobbing uncontrollably over my grandma dying when she’s literally fine. Girl let’s not do this yet please

[eggmeralda]

just woke up from the best film I've ever watched in my life only to realise it was a dream

[a-third-attempt]

iv,

My grandmother Janet is 96 years old. The last time I visited, while drinking the traditional after-dinner gin and tonics, we got to talking about the treasures lying around her house. Somehow we settled on a particular needlepoint hanging on the wall.

She asked: Who made that one, does it say?

And I said: It says "Deedee".

And she laughed: I didn't remember making that one!

My brain wasn't working as fast as my tongue that night— perhaps on account of the gin— and I said: Wait, who is Deedee?

She laughed again, and explained. It was what her parents called her, and the name that she used until she went to high school. All her best friends, everyone who knew her from back in the day, they still call her Deedee.

And then she said to me: You know, Janet is not my real name either. Nobody calls me by my real name, because nobody alive remembers it. And I'm not telling anyone now. It is just for me.

iii,

I was studying abroad in Budapest when I received a facebook message from Rob. A friend, not quite 21, from college back home, saying: I have a secret to tell you, but I do not want anyone else to know. I don't even want to write it here.

I replied, Here is my address. Write it down and mail it to me. I will read it, and then I will burn it; and he agreed.

I left the house, went all the way to the end of the metro, found a convenience store, bought a pack of matches, and sat down in the nearby park.

The three sentences at the start of the letter were: I am transgender. I am a man. My name is not [what we once called him], it is Rob.

This much is no longer a secret, but the three pages that followed are not my stories to tell.

(Have you ever tried to burn a letter? With a match. It is harder than you’d think.)

It is common now for a trans person to refer to their "old" name, the one assigned to them that they no longer use, as their deadname. Rob did not use this language in the letter, probably only because he did not know it yet.

Some of the debris from the letter made it into a trash can. But most blew away into the Hungarian landscape, white flecks scattered in the wind.

ii,

I set my father into the ground in October. He would have been 71.

It was a whirlwind of a weekend, of a week, really. Gatherings every night, friends and family buzzing in the house all day, as if the collective strength of so many silent prayers might summon him, Christ-like, into our midst.

Flying was my dad's first love. I was born near the end of his distinguished career as a fighter pilot in the Air Force. He continued flying, commercially, for as long as I lived under his roof.

A fighter's call sign is what the other fighters call them over the radio when flying together. Pragmatically it is a mask for when enemies intercept communication. But to the squadron, there is nothing secret about this identity; it is more a name than their name is. My dad's call sign is— was— Bear. At the memorial gathering, that was the name that rang long after sundown, that echoed in the still desert air. 

Bear was rowdy, gregarious, and virile. Stories about his after-work antics sprang readily to the lips of the guests. Boozy, shirtless memories of he and his fighter friends, boys who aged but never grew up. And then, after the laughs and a moment's pause, they would add sincere praise about Bear the professional. Thoughtful. Whip-smart. Straightforward. Generous. Passionate.

This man they described was familiar enough, but deeply unrecognizable. He bore little resemblance to the temperamental and stern authority of my childhood memories. Even less to the man I knew on equal footing, after several medical emergencies brought an early and unceremonious end to a lifetime in the cockpit.

I would have liked Bear, I think, but I never met him— I knew him too late.

i,

There are many stories to tell of my father, the man-who-was-not-Bear. I never know which one to start with.

I once asked my mom if I could paint my nails red. I don't remember my mother wearing colored nail polish, it must have been a neighbor who I saw, and the idea enchanted me. And yet somehow, there was the bottle, right underneath the phone. It would have been so easy. But mom said no, dad would be furious. And we both knew that was the end of that.

I liked my hair long. My parents did not. They tolerated it, in the way that one tolerates such inconsequential teenage lashings-out. But the frequency of snide remarks would increase in proportion with its length, and roughly every 6 months I would give in.

(When I was older, I discovered that my hair actually would not get much longer than that. After about 9 months, I shed.)

And if I could see you, I would see these stories fall lighter on your brow than on they lay on my psyche. And I would be suddenly tempted to strike cheap, to scowl forty-five and let sympathy roll in. But it’s too… it’s dehumanizing, and it’s not even narratively right— it doesn’t describe the heft of the uncertainty he left me with, any more than a dumbbell thrown at your face conveys the weight of a blanket.

The household I grew up in was reductivist when not mechanistic, and my childhood gave but scant framework to understand the impact of a thousand unremarkable moments. Still, human, I could not divert myself from the creation of my personal mythology, grasping at any explanation for those forces of parental nature. Nor from this private, shameful conclusion: that this love is, perhaps, conditional. Not necessarily. But the threat was there, and I, conflict-shy, colored inside the lines.

Dharys was 29 when my father died. Or maybe he was 2. (...let's not think too hard about that one.) In any case, my father never met Dharys, and for this alone I still grieve. In the dark I wonder if he ever had these feelings about Bear— this bridgeless chasm between us, etched in time. The quiet, tugging sadness that I would never know him as he was.

Perhaps he never could have, I reason, hopefully. Tieflings learn young, after all, how to hide. Perhaps Dharys can only live because not-Bear has died.

Or perhaps he knew me too early.

* * *

A/N: The picture in this post was drawn by @parziivale; I'll be posting about it separately.

[illdothehotvoice]

ouuugh thinking about the Death Note OST again

[the-art-cave]

College homework. It's a vanitas still life contribution to my grandfather. I have little painting experience so forgive it's watery botched look.

[pepprs]

god my throat is raw from yelling / panicking. And part of me is wary wondering if it’ll happen again. omgggg

[thessaralka]

art isn't supposed to make you comfortable, but if it does tht's ok

[ame-to-ame]

anyway realizing i share the same indignation towards things that feel senselessly wrong but unlike nina i just run away from it point blank 🤠👍

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? PT 1

All I could do was stare at my reflection. This had to be a joke. I was going to wake up in my bed, right this instant.

“FUCK!”

Ok, so, pinching myself hurts. That’s fine. This is like. Some sort of lucid dream. What do they say to do if you’re lucid dreaming? Oh, that’s right, put your finger in your palm, it’ll phase through!

I resist the urge to scream as my finger meets solid flesh.

You see, I’m not in the right body. Or the right world from what I can tell. No, I’m supposed to be back home, waking up in a panic as I realize my alarm didn’t go off cuz my phone died after I stayed up way too late reading manga.

But of course, I’m not late to work, I’m in a lavish bedchamber right out of the latest webcomic I’d been reading! And by the looks of it…. I’m the crown princes crazy fiancé! As much as I love reading about the Isekai trope, I never wanted to be in one! And come on- as the Yandere Villain!? Couldn’t this at least be original? There’s hundred of stories just like “my next life as a villainess,” why couldn’t I be like… a stable hand or something? Ugh. Ok. Think!

I need to get home. Do the protagonists ever get back home in the stories I read? I pace around my room and rack my brain over every webcomic I’ve ever read, every manga I waited in line for, every anime I binged, even the unfinished manhwas! I can’t think of a single fucking one where they get home?

Well this isn’t going to stop me. I have a cat who’s going to absolutely flip if she’s not given fresh kibble in the morning. She has enough in her bowl for another 2 days but she needs it topped off ok! She’s a princess! I can’t be stuck here! Who’s going to throw her pompom toy for her if I’m not there???

What did all these have in common? What’s the barebones trope layout? Ok let’s see

1) person either died or falls asleep and wakes up in a new world…. Check

2) person is the villain!…. Check

3) to avoid the characters terrible death, person tries to change the story, ends up being new protagonist…

Ohhh… hey…. Do these Isekai characters ever just…. Play along? Even the “reincarnated as a baby” ones, they only play along till they’re old enough to try to run away or rework the political structure of the entire city. Maybe that’s it. Make it to the books natural end, and you’ll wake up where you belong. It’s like when you get part of a song stuck in your head. Play the whole song, and it’ll get out.

Ok, I’ve trained most of my adult life for this- I can totally ace this trope! I just have to stalk the crown prince, act totally in love with him, and be a bitch to the female lead. Then my finance will leave me, I’ll do some crazy dramatic act to try to kill the female lead, and then I’ll be exiled or executed, and wake up to feed my cat. How hard can it be?

Hard. It’s very hard.

Where the hell did he go!? My fiancé, the crown prince Eric, was JUST HERE. I swear! He turned that corner back there and then went down this hall… at least I think it was this hall? Ugh! This is impossible! For someone with such loud shoes and an armed escort, you’d think he’d be easier to follow! Now my feet just hurt. They don’t make these fancy shoes to run around the castle all day. They’re meant to daintily peek from beneath my many skirts as I host a tea party or some shit.

Ok. I’ve got this! I’ll just peek into each room until I find him, maybe I can get a better feel for the layout, or maybe find his office and see if he has a schedule or a day planner or something I can use to make this whole stalking thing easier.

I begin snooping, and it’s a bit of thrill to be honest! Back in my real life, I’m the kind of person to hide a wrapper deep in the trash can if I’m babysitting, sitting on the floor playing a game on my phone after the kid goes to bed rather than “making myself at home” the way the parents insisted as they showed me how to access Netflix. I’ve never been a snooper. Now…. Well. It’s totally on brand for this character! I’m not me, I’m a psycho lovesick fool! I giggle a bit at that as my fingers trail over a shelf of beautiful pottery in some sort of sitting room.

“What’s so amusing dearest?”

I practically screech as my heart leaps to my throat and I whirl around, and see the very person I’d been searching for has snuck up on ME…. That’s so unfair!

“W-what? O-oh! Nothing! I was just- uh, admiring the pottery?”

I stutter out as I try to recall how to act like a human being while simultaneously trying to stop feeling my own pulse in my ears. The idiot has the nerve to LAUGH! Full on snort and everything!

“What are you doing in this wing anyways? Weren’t you meant to be out riding today?”

Shit. I was so busy trying to figure out his schedule, I didn’t consider maybe the body I was shoved into had a schedule of her own. Ok. Play it cool- I’ve got this!

“Yes, well, I decided I wasn’t in the mood and wanted to stay in today instead.”

His brows furrow

“Oh, but you love riding? Are you feeling ill? I can fetch the royal physician for you if you-“

“No! That’s- that’s quite alright! I simply wanted a change of schedule, that is all. Um… what about you? What are your plans for the day?”

He looked a bit surprised at that, and a small smile danced on his lips.

“I was just going to the library to do some paperwork, boring stuff really, and then of course our dinner at its regular time.”

I nod like that means anything to me. Ok think, if I were crazy in love with this man, what would I say?

“Would you like some company? Reading in the library sounds really nice, maybe we could have some tea as well?”

Ok. I’m already fucking this up. He looks confused…. God damnit …. I knew I shouldn’t have skimmed over those early chapters- but the translation was shit ok!?

“Well… I’d actually love that. But are you sure? You haven’t exactly shown interest in reading, and you’ve never requested something like this before…. In fact I don’t think I can recall the last time we’ve interacted outside of dinner or a scheduled social event in… well. Ever.”

Wait…. What? Isn’t my character like goo-goo-ga-ga over him? Are you telling me she never asks to just… spend time with her lover? They only talk during dinner and parties or whatever?

“Of course, I think it’ll be relaxing! Just lead the way!”

My brain is working overtime as I smile politely at him as we reach the library and I pretend to browse for books. I’m missing something here. What is-

Oh. Shit. That’s right. I’m supposed to be really insecure and awkward about him. That’s why she stalks him- she spends all her free time obsessing over this man from the shadows, threatening the competition…. Yet chokes up when it comes to how to act natural. Her inferiority complex is what drives her entire character. And then to him, they’re just two nobles in an arranged marriage who speak on dull subjects like the weather and horse rides…. And who barely interact.

This must have been a real big shake up, she always stays out of sight, they never run into each other by chance. And she certainly never would ask to sit and read with him…. Maybe watch him do his work from a hidden keyhole somewhere, but that’s right…. She IS more of a traditional lady with her hobbies. She was raised to be the perfect noble wife, so naturally, her hobbies include things like dancing, needlepoint, and horse riding. The only studies she’s interested in are etiquette and things that noble ladies are supposed to know.

Well…. Shit. That’s so like me to already have fucked this up. But that’s ok. That’s ok- he’s going to meet the female lead and fall in love and so I just have to be the obstacle they need to overcome. Surely the details don’t matter too much…. It’s my first day in the job ok? Not everyone’s perfect!

I find a book that honestly actually sounds interesting, it’s historical, but it’s giving Hellen of Troy, the closest to a dark romance I think I’ll get from an academic personal library like this. I settle into what looks like the comfiest chair in the central area, and begin reading. The prince and I exist comfortably, the only sound being the scratch of his pen, and the occasional rustle of paper as he flips a document or I finish a page. We continue like this for several hours until he puts down his pen and clears his throat, getting my attention.

“I know it’s a long way from dinner…. But I was thinking I’d grab something light for a mid day meal and then take a walk about the gardens …. Would you care to join me?”

Honestly, some lunch and pretty royal gardens sounds like so much fun, so I agree. As we begin walking, I ponder how I can recover from all this.

You know what.. this can totally still go to plan. This is just me being the evil villain and sinking my claws into him! The female lead will appear, and I’ll reveal my true, nasty side to her! She’ll have to fight to save the prince from his marriage to me!

*insert evil laughter!*

“You’re smiling.”

“W-what?”

“A smile. It suits you. You’ve been doing that a lot today….. I like it.”

Ok and now I’m blushing. I go to reply when I suddenly find myself weightless for a moment, and then hit the ground with a hard thump.

“Ow! What the-!?”

My eyes snap up and glare at this pretty blonde girl who just rammed into me, and sent me flying

“Do you not know how to watch where you’re going!? Owww…. Ugh.”

Ok I’m sorry I’m usually a nice and understanding person but I’ve never been literally knocked over before! Who does that to a person?

Eric helps me to my feet and sends a reproachful glare toward the girl, asking me if I’m alright with most concerned look…. And the girl gasps and says,

“C-crown prince Eric! I apologize! I’d didn’t recognize you!”

She drops into a curtsy and lowers her eyes all demure and modest as if she hadn’t just bulldozed me. I send an incredulous look toward Eric…. She… didn’t see HIM? I’m the one she took out? He gives me an equally puzzled look and so I decide, you know what, fuck it. I’m this evil person in this world…. I need to act like it!

“And not recognizing his highness is an excuse for taking out the princess consort, soon to be crown princess? Are you blind or just daft?”

Oh my god I really just called someone daft! This feels like when you stay up late thinking all the witty comebacks you could’ve used against your high school bullies, except actually using them in the moment!

And Eric is being a sweetie and letting me handle this, waiting expectantly for blondie to answer me, just prompting her,

“Well?”

“Forgive me…. Princess consort…. You are right. My oversight in inexcusable. It appears neither of us were looking where we were going. I hope we can start fresh!”

I scoff- that’s it? Who does this bitch think she is? Yes, I was looking at Eric, but I was going a walking pace, who rounds a corner with so much force that you knock someone over?

Suddenly something clicks- oh shit! This is the female lead!!!! This scene happened in the story, just without the prince here. This is good, that means this is on track. Although I gotta say- I was much more on the female main characters side when reading it. Now, I just feel like she’s one of those mean girls in high school who’s not *technically* doing anything mean. Anyways- what was I supposed to say? That’s right.

“Yes…. Well. I’m sure we won’t be seeing much of each other anyways. If you’ll excuse me-“

Nailed ittttt…. Now her line?

“Well, actually…. My name is Lady Cressida, and I’ll be staying in the place for several months as my father is a foreign ambassador overseeing trade agreements with his highness the king. So I imagine we will be seeing *plenty* of each other. That goes for you too your highness! So please- forgive me, I look forward to getting to know each of you better!”

Oh that’s so cool, seeing her recite the lines from the story. But ok- I have a role to play as well. I scoff and grab Eric’s arm, pulling him behind me as I storm off, playing the part of entitled lover, stuck up and irritated at this ambassadors daughter who DARED to speak to my love.

Yea, this will work, Eric will think Cressida is a genuine sweetie, and see me as being the unreasonable bitch who’s refusing to accept her apology, or apologize for not looking where I was going either. And now I’m manhandling him- totally unlady like. God I’m killing this aren’t I? Minimum wage job and demanding cat, here I come!

What I don’t see, as I lead Eric by the arm, is the cold glare he shoots towards Cressida, before smiling down at our connected hands, an unreadable look in his eyes.

Part 2

[hoshigray]

𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - implied fwb relationship - catching/awakening feelings - oral (m! receiving) - ball massaging + sucking - sex in a shared room; college dorms (alone) - cowgirl position on a chair - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, pretty, princess) - heavy depiction of a blowjob - cameos: Haibara and Ijichi - fluff + angst; misunderstandings - humor bc i'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: second part, let's goooo!! i loved ur support and comments from the first story, so hope y'all are excited for this part :DDD and ty so so so MUCH for 5.5k like??? i kiss you on cheek, every single on of you, hehehe~

prev story » ❤︎ « next story

“If you’re not gonna help, then leave my dorm!”

“Ehhhh, hell no! It’s cold as fuck outside; you want me to freeze to death?”

“They’re…still going at it.”

“Yeah…give it a minute, and we’ll just go to the library without them?”

It’s coming down to the last week of January; university students are finally settling in with their new schedules and getting used to the groove of the spring semester. Or some run around trying to keep up with the new semesters and the change of weather already getting on people’s nerves, wanting nothing more than spring to come quickly.

Three weeks in, and you already have stuff to do, one of them being an argumentative presentation assigned by Professor Yaga in your Contemporary Issues class. You and three other people are tasked to find sources for a topic issue you find interesting and then present a discussion-based presentation on two sides of the topic (two people in favor and two people against).

Unfortunately, the groups were to be randomly assigned. Luckily, two friends you knew in the class, Haibara and Ijichi, were picked to work alongside you! However, the bad part was that another person you knew was assigned to work with you, and he happens to be the guy getting on your last nerves right now, sitting on your couch while clicking through the television channels with the remote. 

Your roommates weren’t home today. The club fair was occurring at the quad, so Mei Mei and Utahime had to go out and represent their clubs for the afternoon. Shoko is having an intense study session with Geto for an exam on the first of February, so they’re at the library now. 

That leaves you alone at your dorm, using this as a perfect opportunity to invite your group over to work on the project. 

“You can freeze your nuts off and become the next Jack Frost for all I care; if you’re not going to do your part of the work, get out!”

Well, minus you yelling at your partner, who clicks his teeth before turning to you. His round sunglasses shone from the light reflected from the living room windows.

Satoru Gojo was your number one nemesis within these campus grounds; this was a known fact to everyone, especially the other group members who nervously examined you two bicker. Being in the same space as him is enough to make you wish you could pull your hair out or put him in the nastiest headlock you could do. Worse, being assigned to the same group as him for your project almost made you want to rip your ears off. 

But you had to suck it up; at least you were the first group to start a presentation. Better now than worry about it later, right? 

“Pssh, fine, I’ll get up and—Oh! Wait, you guys have Digimon on Hulu? Ahhh, sick!” 

Nevertheless, you can’t say that when your supposed partner acts like a child glued to your TV screen instead of doing the work he promised to do. You grit your teeth with a twitching brow, “Why you…”

Across from the common area was the kitchen, where Haibara and Ijichi sat at the dining table. The two sophomores could do nothing but feel the tension between you and Gojo grow with every passing second, suffocating the younger duo. Haibara eyes Ijichi from across the table and whispers, “Wanna make a run for it now?”

The black-haired second-year didn’t reply, only a hurried nod before the two grabbed their coats and stuffed their laptops back into their backpacks. The sound of their zippers alerts your ears, turning to them to question, “Huh? Where are you two going?” 

Haibara takes it upon himself to deliver a half-lie as he zips up his jacket. “On second thought, Ijichi and I are thinking of taking the shuttle to the library to work instead.”

Huh? The library? Were they leaving because of the belligerence between you and Gojo? God, you hoped not. “Wait, you guys don’t have to do that. I already made you guys walk all this way here; it’d be rough to have you leave for somewhere else…”

Ijichi comes with the assist after putting the sling of his messenger bag around his shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/n. We found material from the library we could use as sources, so we’re heading up there to take some notes while they’re there.” 

“Yup!” Haibara exclaims in agreement, and the two walk past you to put on their shoes by the front door. “Maybe you guys can find sources of your own while we’re gone, and then we can converse and share what we found when we come back. Sounds good?” 

“I suppose so…” you couldn’t shake the feeling that they were leaving to avoid being in the same room as you and Gojo. The guilt is hard to endure since you didn’t mean to make the younger boys uncomfortable. “See you guys, then.”

“Cya!” And with that, the door closes on their way out, leaving you and Gojo alone in your apartment. 

Well, this is just great; you’ve driven your group members and friends away and are now stuck with the nuisance of a partner who still keeps his attention on the television. It takes everything in your power not to pop a vein. But with one calm breath, you steady yourself and stand tall. 

You walk in front of the TV, blocking it from Gojo’s view. The white-haired boy throws his hands up in exasperation, but you couldn’t care less. “What’s the big idea?” He questions you as if he has a right to at this moment. 

You cross your arms across your chest with narrow eyes. “Haibara and Ijichi just left.”

“Uhh, yeah, I heard the door,” he maneuvers his body to try and see the children’s show blocked by your figure. “Doesn’t have to do with me—“

“It does have to do with you.” You interrupt him, taking two steps and bending to stare him down. Your face is a foot away from his. “You’re supposed to be here to work with Haibara on the ’no’ part of the argument while me and Ijichi do our part. You’ve only been here for thirty minutes, and the only thing you’ve done successfully is take off your shoes at the door and read your manga books on the couch. 

Gojo chuckles – oh, how you hated his laugh – as he puts his hands behind his head, spreading his long legs from their crossed form. “You heard them, no? They’re going to research on their own and then come back. Besides, you know I’m not one to start stuff right away. I’m a procrastinator, remember?”

“You’re annoying; that’s what you are.” You straighten up with a heavy sigh.  God, I wish Utahime and Shoko were here. They’d help me out with this white garbage…

“Ahhh, lighten up, Y/n. It’s not like the presentation is on Monday; we got until Friday to come up with everything.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, smartass. And you’re right: I do know you. And I know you tend to do things at the last fucking minute. But not this time!” You watch him try to put his feet up on the coffee table, and you quickly intervene by kicking them off. 

“Tch. Look, you knew what you were getting into being partnered with me. And relax; those two said they’ll be back to discuss the material later. They already left – nothing I can do about it.”

Your hands rest at your hips, tapping your foot with visible frustration. “Oh? And I wonder why they left in the first place, Gojo. Mind telling me how?”

He quirks up a brow with a smug grin — a telling sign that you’d get ticked off with whatever he’s about to say. “I don’t know, Y/n. Why not ask the nagging control freak talking to me right now, huh? Maybe their short height and angry temper are affecting the mood of those around them to be miserable like them.” 

You almost did it — your hands nearly gave into your intrusive thoughts and were about to lunge at the snow-haired guy’s neck to wring around like a rag doll. But you played it off with a clap, rubbing the palms together to distract your temporary violent thoughts.

You sucked your teeth and turned on your heel. “Forget it. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

He scoffs, “Good, maybe your tiny brain needs it to calm down.”

“Choke and die, Gojo!” You say down the hall, already at the door of your shared bedroom. Before slamming the door shut, Gojo’s patronizing laughter can be heard to your dismay. With gritted teeth, you march to your bed to throw yourself on the mattress. 

“Ughhh. That Satoru Gojo,” you curse his name under your breath as if he’d hear you through the walls. “So unserious…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

To be quite honest with himself, Gojo doesn’t necessarily hate you.

The white-haired boy lies on his side on Utahime’s bed, watching you nap. He did knock on the door – believe him, he did. He even gave you the good old ten-second rule, waiting for your response. But then you didn’t, which gave him the initiative to waltz in and see you in your slumber.

You slept so peacefully; your face at peace, and your faint snores were the only things his ears picked up on. It was as if your little nagging show from earlier was hard to comprehend when seeing your tranquil state in front of him. It used to be rare to see you like this. Keywords: used to be.

For the past two to three weeks, your relationship with Gojo has become more…intimate. Ever since he took your first kiss and drew your virgin curtains, the two of you have gotten a little closer than before — both platonically and physically. Something that Gojo never thought he’d experience with you, his tiny, cute frenemy. 

Gojo has known you since freshman year; you were two in the same enrichment group to prepare you to transition into college life. Personally, he wasn’t much for the program; he found it a waste of time, a mandatory prerequisite that he felt he didn’t need. He’s all about experience, wanting nothing more than to get on with his day, go to classes, hang with friends, and repeat. 

“Hello, my name is Y/n. It’s nice to meet you all!”

And then came you, the person sitting across from him at the round table your group would always meet at. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enamored by you the second he saw you. Gojo rarely finds someone who could easily pull his eyes to them — not saying the girls who’d usually crowd and admire him weren’t pretty. There was something about you that kept him wanting to know more – to engage more – about you. 

One thing he knew from you was that you carried your character with pride. Your achievements, your personality, your kindness, and your mannerisms — all of which were displayed elegantly and were a breath of fresh air to look at. You stood out to him more than all the other kids in the group, his eyes always finding a way to steer from the professor’s advice to your alluring, listening face. 

Another thing Gojo liked about you was that you weren’t afraid to stand your ground, especially when discussing with your peers or him. Sure, you were always respectful and would respect other people’s arguments. But, God, the way you said things so constructed and nuanced, it had the tall other glued to you whenever you spoke.

He’s not going to lie; he’ll admit that he’d try to tick you off and get you to get a little angry with him when it came to arguing. He couldn’t help it. He just liked the thought of you layering out of your poised appearance to the point you’d glare at him whenever you saw him in the halls. And it had him giddy knowing he’s the one that made you angry because you looked cute. 

And that was the other thing he really liked about you. The more you two interacted, argued, hung out with his friends, or attended classes together, the more Gojo’s fascination for you turned into that of a school-boy crush. He wouldn’t admit to anyone of this (minus Geto and Shoko if his life depended on it) because it certainly wasn’t something to be known. He was okay with what you two had right now, being the friend who loves to push your buttons to see you nag at him. 

That was until you two started sleeping together. Because holy fuck, the past weeks you two have been sneaking time to have each other’s bodies close made Gojo’s mind go crazy. So fucking crazy like the feeling of you on him is borderline addicting. Your whiny cries calling out to him when he scrapes your sweet spots, your nails scrape on his chest, your half-lidded eyes when you look at him, or how you whisper his name only for him to hear.

This was the kind of relationship you two brewed, a secret thing only between you two. And Gojo was satisfied keeping it like this because it was what you wanted. No need to flaunt it around; it was no one’s business. Besides, he likes having you to himself, seeing a side of you that only he could imagine and experience.

The sensations of your body under his touch, the various tunes of your voice, and the beauty exhibited in your gaze. It was all addicting. You were addicting.

“Who told you to lie on my roommate’s bed? You know she’ll kill you if she ever saw you.” 

It was so addicting that he didn’t even notice you awake until you spoke to him, the erotic memories of you clouding his brain dissipating at the indication of your voice. He smirks, “Oh, I’ll be fine; not like she can hurt me with her tiny self.”

You’re too groggy to roll your eyes, sighing as you turn to your side to face him from across the room. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost an hour,” he replies, switching to sit criss-cross on Utahime’s bed. “I got bored watching TV and knocked.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“Maybe twenty minutes?”

“Just watching me sleep?”

“Yeah.”

You let out a scoff, shaking your head. “Weirdo.”

He snickers at you for recognizing his silliness. “Whaaat? There’s not much to do aside from looking at you. I got bored of the TV.”

“What about your manga?”

“Got bored of that, too.”

“Anyone on your socials that you’d wanna talk to? Girls? Friends? Your teammates?”

“Mmm, nah, none I’d wanna talk to right now.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you mean ‘right now’? You make it seem like I’m keeping you from interacting with your outside life. If you’re bored, talk with whoever you want. Maybe bother Geto…No, nevermind, he’d probably be annoyed since he’s studying.”

Gojo examines you, silently removing himself from your roommate’s bed and treading towards yours. He takes off his sunglasses and places them on top of your dresser before sitting on his knees on the floor. He rests his hands and chin on the edge of your bed, his sky-blue eyes locked in with yours. God, you were so beautiful to look at. 

“I meant that I don’t want to talk to anybody.” Now that he’s closer to you, his voice dials to a whisper. “Not when I got you here to myself.”

He notices your brows drawing upward at the sentence. “To yourself?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, bringing a forefinger to trace your brow. A sensual touch not to startle you. “Just you and me.”

You give him a look as if you think he’s trying to pull something. “Don’t tell me you were making me mad at you earlier just so Haibara and Ijichi could leave, and I’d be stuck with you.”

His smile broadens with every word, his dimples out to see. “No, although I hate that I didn’t think of that myself.” His hand goes to your cheek for his thumb to stroke gently. “Would it have been a bad thing if I did?”

You don’t reply, only placing your hand on his. Your eyes are still on his blue orbs, and – you don’t know this because Gojo has the perfect view of you – the light from the window made them shine charmingly as it highlighted your face. 

“No…I don’t think so,” you murmur, gaze gradually venturing down to his lips. “I like being around you…Satoru.”

He heard his name leave your lips, an invitation to what he wants to do, his eyes fixated on your lips before closing them and drawing in closer. “Me too…”

The kiss was soft and gentle like he always starts with, waiting for you to give him the okay to kiss you again. And when you meekly lick his bottom lip, he gives in to your request and claims your lips again. 

Your moans were so sweet to his ears — his favorite thing to hear — especially when he becomes a little devilish and sucks on your tongue to make you whimper a little louder, turning him on even more. It serves as the perfect distraction for him to snake a hand into your shirt, his hand already making itself home and cupping your breast in your bra. 

You break the kiss with a gasp, and massages to your mound make your breath shaky. “Mmmah…you sneaky pervert,” you name-call him sweetly. 

“Can’t blame me; I just know that you like to have your tits played with.” Gojo sneers, tweaking your nipple to hear you gasp again. “Hey, remember you said you’d suck me off next time?”

“Huh?” The question threw you off before you could fall deeper into a euphoric haze. 

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, you promised!” He whines to you like a hurt puppy. “After I ate you out for twenty minutes straight last time, can I just have your mouth on my dick once?”

“I never told you to eat me out for twenty minutes!”

“You crying and telling me not to stop said otherwise!” He stands his argument, even if you warn him with a glare. “Just suck it, please. I haven’t felt your mouth in a while.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t expect to deal with his childish tendencies, but it is Gojo we’re talking about. You sigh, “…Fine, Satoru.” And then the white-headed boy beamed at the confirmation, immediately standing up and heading to your desk. It was an abrupt change of pace for a second until he brought your desk chair out. 

With glee, Gojo flings his jeans and boxers with ease, his half-hard cock out for you to see. He sits on your chair with spread legs, “I’m ready~.”

You roll your eyes, yet the smile on your face sneaks without you knowing while leaving your bed and crouching between his legs. “You’re such a big baby sometimes…”

Your hand finds its way to the body of his dick, gliding it up and down to feel the veins under your palm and fingertips. Gojo hums to your cold fingers, hitching his breath when you tease him with a blow of air. 

Your free hand comes to his balls, massaging his testicles in a way that has his leg jerk. He tries to fight it, but the squirm on his legs says otherwise. “Hahhh, fuck…quit it…”

“Hmm? What, you don’t like it when I tease you?” You peer up at him with a smug grin before using your tongue to lick on the glans slowly, and he covers his mouth before a gasp comes out after lapping on his frenulum. “But when you do it to me, it’s not a problem, huh?”

“Mmmph, shiit, Y/n—Ohhh…!” Another jolt of the hips after you lick and kiss one of his balls, teasing the skin with a kiss and tiny chews that would have him choke on his breath. “Jesus, fuck! Y/n, baby, you’re driving me crazy….Aishhh!!

“Oh, really?” God, you were such a fucking tease. But he fucking loved that so much. “What should I do?” You ask him before sucking on his balls again, and a hand comes to your shoulder to grip. 

“Mmmm…Blow me off, princess,” shivers crawl up his spine as you place kisses from the base of his cock towards the tip. “Please, I wanna feel you…” 

You giggle at his reply, finally taking in his cockhead to your pretty lips and sighing through your nose as you hollow your cheeks to take in more of him. 

Gojo sighs at your licks and sucks on his girth, his erection becoming accommodated to your oral cavity wonderfully. You unhurriedly prompt yourself to take in more of him until your lips reach his pubes, your throat now full of him, and the warmness of your gummy walls makes him squirm more. 

Bobbing your head at a moderate pace, you suck him off to that of a pleasurable cadence. You still use your hands to stroke him, Gojo melting to your touch even more. He throws his head back when you attack his tip again with the onslaught of licks and laps, the hand on his balls roughly kneading them jerks him to moan aloud. 

Fuck, it feels so fucking good having you suck him off like this. How your tongue moved up and down on him was so dangerous, prompting him to place a hand on your head for support. As if that would help, you don’t show him mercy when you suck him harder and faster. The noises coming from your mouth sounded so erotic and pornographic, the heat on his face brewing out more. 

“—Khhmm, fuck, man, I can’t…Ahhh! Y/n, I’m gonna cum if you keep licking it like that. Stop, st—Ahhaaa!!” 

But like he said before – you’re a tease (if not worse than him). You remove Gojo’s dick from your mouth and throat at once, the groan he exerts fueling the fire in your body. You stand to withdraw your shirt, bra, and panties to the ground, knowing Gojo’s watching every move. “Don’t get mad at me; I know how much you wanna cum inside.” 

You pull out the condom from the pocket of your skirt, placing the rubber on his cock after removing it from the wrapper. He couldn’t help but laugh, “Seems like you’re more of a pervert than me if you had that ready while those two were here earlier.” 

“Shut up,” you playfully kiss him with a sneaky bite to his bottom lip. Then, you mount and align your cunt on his dick, the glans kissing your wet labia. “Hmmm, fuck…”

“Relax, cutie,” he kisses you on the cheek while his hands fondle your breasts. 

You slowly descend your slit onto him, the tip of his cock pushing into the entrance of your vagina. A couple of exhales and inhales keep you steady when inserting him into you, not letting the pain distract you from the task at hand. And the both of you moan in unison when it makes it in, your hips leisurely coming down on him until your ass rests on his thighs. 

You grind on him with the roll of your hips, evoking choked intakes of air from him as a hand goes to your ass with vigor. His face to your chest while the other hand plays with one mound. His lips found a nipple to pop into his mouth to suck on. 

With a slow pace, you rock your hips onto him. Your legs bent for your feet to be on his knees, the chair solid enough to withstand you bouncing on Gojo’s dick with repetition.  

“Hoohhh, ohhhh, mmmm,” your hums are expressed in tunes. The curve of his cock is so fucking good, scraping your insides with precision. You couldn’t help but increase the speed just a little bit. 

Gojo keeps sucking on your nipple; the grazes of his teeth and pushing the bud up to the roof of his mouth only fuels more quivers to travel down your bouncing figure. Both of his hands now under your skirt to feel the flesh of your ass under his hungry grasp. He kneads your asscheeks with every thrust to your chasm, and your shrieks get louder by the second. 

“—Mmmph! Shit, shit, you feel so good, pretty,” he finally lets go of your hardened nipple, burying his face to your chest. “So fucking good for me…fuhuuuucck!

You could feel your cunt contract around him; every graze to your sensitive spots prompted your walls to grip around him. He hisses, looking up to see your expression as you ride him out. Fuck, you looked so good on top of him like this. He’ll add this position to the list of things to do again with you.

You peer down to see that Gojo is staring at you, and you quickly bring a hand to cover his eyes. “—Ahhahhn, d-don’t look at me like that! Yer soo embarrassing…!” 

He only chuckles at your shy demeanor, especially during this. But he humors you, not fighting your makeshift blind for him to see you wholly. He’s seen it all already — felt it all, too. And he could never get enough. 

“Ooooh, Satoruuu—Nnaaahh!” He loves how you say his name, your hand traveling to his hair to grab in tuffs. “Oh, fuck, ‘toruuu, I’m gonna cummm…!”

“—Hnngh! Yeah, baby?” Oh, he knows. The way you’re grinding to and fro on his pelvis tells him so. “Go ahead, princess. Clench on me and ride it out.”

And with that, your hips go to an erratic pace that has the both of you holding for dear life. The squeeze of your inner walls clenching on him almost makes him choke on his spit, the nails of his fingertips forming crescents on your skin. And you scream at it, slamming your ass onto him as you both climb up to orgasm. 

Within seconds, it hits the both of you like a train. This had to be Gojo’s favorite part of the entire thing, experiencing having your folds clamp and flutter around him as you cry for him. It took everything in his power not to come with you because he wants to have you on him a little longer. You just felt too good to let go — too addicted to your body to be done with one round.

When the contractions subside while your slurred howls get quieter, Gojo gives you a few minutes to let your body be free from the aftershocks. He knows your body is extra sensitive now, rubbing circles on your back and placing chaste kisses on your clavicle. You hum under his lips, letting the wave of your crescendo exude out from you quietly. 

However, since you wanted to be such a tease, why not be a tease back? At least, that’s what Gojo thought before he threw your cunt another snap of the hips, his cock jabbing into your delicate walls that haven’t recovered yet. A sharp cry comes from your puffy lips, the hand covering Gojo’s eyes finally freeing him to see you. 

He grins with hooded azure eyes, “Sorry, cutie, but I didn’t get to finish. Wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t get to have fun of my own, right?” 

You chew on your lip with trenched brows before bringing your face to his. “Don’t you get carried away like last time, Satoru.”

“No promises, princess~” he sings to your ear before humming into your lips. 

As mentioned before, Gojo doesn’t hate you — he just hates that he can’t fully express liking you. 

But having you on top of him like this, in his embrace, is a nice change of pace he’ll happily get used to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Okay, everyone, class dismissed! Thank you for your time, and see you all on Friday.”

Professor Naga closes up the last class for today, and the students all get up from the seats of their elevated rows to pack up and leave. The clock is ten minutes before seven o’clock, the winter darkness already claiming the sky with a sheet of night. Students are either famished and heading to the dining hall for food, going straight to their dorms or homes, or staying behind for last-minute conversations.

Gojo was one of the latter, deciding to stay behind to chat with the group for a bit. After packing his backpack and putting on his coat, he slings from the table to jump to the row below him, where you were talking with Haibara and Ijichi. 

You watch his stunt, ready to lecture, “Jesus, Gojo, what’s all that for? You could’ve just walked around.”

“Ehhhh, why would I do that? That’s so lame.” He comes and bends close to you enough to slang his arm around your shoulders. 

But you click your teeth and try to maneuver away from his tall figure. “You’re lame,” you mutter under your breath.

However, Gojo’s ears perked with furrowed brows. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, you lame white furby!” You repeat yourself with a huff and the snow-haired student gawks at your brazenness. 

The two of you argue again; students passing by silently exit the class, others stand and watch, and Professor Yaga can only sigh at yet another altercation between you two. 

However, it quickly dissipates when Haibara laughs from his seat. “You two, there’s never a dull moment.”

You and Gojo blink at the dark brunette before removing Gojo’s hand from your shoulders. “Hmph, it’s not like it’s my fault; he’s the one who starts it.”

“Oh, what could I possibly do to make Y/n so upset with me this time?” He pushes up his sunglasses, snickering at the scowl you send him. 

Ichiji, being the passive second-year he is, meekly changes the topic from the row below you three. “On some brighter news, at least we did well on the presentation.” 

“That’s right!” Haibara happily agrees with the statement, leaning against the chair with his hands behind his head. “Professor Yaga seemed really pleased with our arguments; I don’t think he intervened even once. Plus, he said many good things about how we handled the topic. Nice one, team!” 

The raven-haired one hums at the other’s exclamation. “I think most of it goes to how Y/n and Gojo bounced off each other’s arguments. How you two pulled up examples from the articles yet remained dignified with your viewpoints was cool to witness. I even saw some students be engaged with the conversation, many amazed with how Y/n refuted Gojo’s arguments elegantly and respectfully.”

But most of all, what the two sophomores wanted to mention was that there was no yelling. To them, the professor, and all the students of this class, you and Gojo presented your presentation without a single tone of malice, no pointless teasing, no name-calling, nothing! It was a civil conversation between two opposing sides. To everyone’s surprise — and thankful stars — today was a success.

You chuckle nervously at the praise. “Oh, come on, you two, don’t let me and Gojo take all the credit. You guys did your part. Especially you, Ichiji; you were an exceptional help for my side and finding sources I could build off from.”

Gojo, on the other hand, rolls his eyes. “Psssh, don’t butter them up like that; without us, they would’ve failed this presentation big time. No offense.” He was forced to say that when you called him by his last name and hit him with your elbow.

None taken, the two younger friends say to themselves unbeknownst to each other. 

The tall one continues, “Besides, you were the one who did most of the work. I slacked off until the last minute when you whipped me into shape.” Gojo brings his hand on top of your head for a pat. The action surprised you enough to flinch a bit. “Nice work like always, Y/n.”

Were the stars aligned differently, or did Gojo just compliment you? It certainly took you aback, especially the two others who silently kept their observation to themselves. 

You could only look at his complacent look for a few seconds before you realized the warmth of your cheeks became stronger. Averting your eyes, you remove his hand from your head. “Thanks, Gojo…” you express gratitude. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

A cheeky smile, his dimples prominent to blind you. “Awww, would you two look at that? They’re complimenting me, too~” Another bump to the chest has him cackling like a child, and you shake your head with rolled eyes.

The two younger students observe the scene before Haibara forcibly stretches and yawns to catch the two’s attention. “Man, I’m so hungry; I skipped lunch to prepare for this presentation. Me and Ijichi are gonna meet up with Nanami at the dining hall. You guys wanna come?”

You instantly beam at the proposal; who are you to refuse a dinner with your friends? “Sure! I’d love to…Oh! Wait, let me use the restroom and fill my water bottle.”

You rummage through your backpack for your water bottle before exiting the classroom. The boys watch you descend from row after row, and Gojo says, “Don’t take too long; I’ll convince them to leave without you.”

“Hmph, go ahead and try! They invited me; I don’t know who told you to invite yourself.” You stick your tongue out at him before opening and closing the door behind you. 

Gojo watches you with a smile still plastered on his face for a few seconds before Ijichi makes a tiny cough to catch his attention, the sunglasses-wearing junior turning to look back down to the other two. He notes the albeit cheesy-smiling faces they harbor, and he lifts a brow. “The hell are you two smiling for?”

The raven-haired sophomore squeaks at the sudden firm tone, “N–Nothing!”

“Pfft, oh come on, Kiyo; let’s not act like we didn’t see what we just saw.”

Gojo catches the nuance of Haibara’s comment. “Saw what?”

“You’re over here talking about our faces, but you’re the one who’s smiling at Y/n as they leave the door?” The brunette sophomore sends a wink to his junior, whose face doesn’t change at the comment.

“And your point is?”

“Well, it seems — to me, at least —  there might be something going on with you and Y/n?” 

Gojo was prepared for that, opening his mouth to interject quickly. However, the dark-haired other beat him to the punch. “Now that you mention it, Gojo and Y/n have been kind of…stable? There's still the usual arguments, but those haven't happened as much since last week…”

“Right!?” Haibara points at Ijichi with exclamation, making the other second-year flinch. “For some reason, things seem to be a little quieter with the two of them now, not to mention them hanging out way more often. Everyone’s been talking about it; even Geto and Shoko asked if Gojo had done anything that made Y/n passive?”

“I asked Nanami about it on Monday; he thinks maybe Y/n finally knocked some sense into Gojo’s childish brain to have him be so civil to engage without yelling their head off.”

“Pffthaha, I wouldn’t go that far. Y/n did just kick him in the shin yesterday for scaring them from behind.”

“Ahh, yes, well, that was deserved.”

“You two realize I’m still standing right the fuck here, right?” No, they hadn’t because the two discerned the twitch of Gojo’s brow after conversing about the tall, white-haired boy. 

“But it’s true!”

Another voice enters the set, making Gojo raise his head, and the other two turn to their left. It was some girl and her friend. Gojo knew of her; she sat next to him during class. Again, he knew of her, meaning she had no significance to his knowledge.

And yet, she speaks to the three boys. “You and Y/n have gotten a lot more close these past weeks compared to previous semesters—“

“Real close, too!” Their friend adds on from behind. “It’s as if you two are like a couple.”

“So…Are you two….a thing?”

Gojo could tell from a mile away what this was. Obviously, the first girl has a thing for him — he can see the anxiousness from the twiddle of her thumbs and avoidant eye contact. Although he wasn’t interested, he couldn’t even answer the question the way he wanted. What the hell could he say: that you two are in a secret relationship? He knows you’d have his grave ready before he could finish that confession.

And he can’t say the two of you are in any relationship either; it’s not what you would’ve told them. To everyone else, you and Gojo are friends who would preferably be caught dead rather than lying in bed together. So, might as well keep that facade up.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he starts with the push of his sunglasses. “Y/n is a pretty good friend, and I’d like to keep it at that.”

Haibara and Ijichi turn from Gojo to look at each other and shrug. Before turning back, something caught their eye that caused the two sophomores’ skin to turn white.

Ijichi tries to prevent Gojo from speaking further. “G-Gojo—“

However, the tall one doesn’t listen. “I mean, sure, they got a nice personality and are independent…Kinda pretty, too, not gonna lie. But they’re not really my type. I mean, have you seen them? Just a little person who likes to find trivial stuff to yell at me over. Angry at the world around them, I’d say.“

“Go. Jo.” Haibara says the junior’s name through gritted teeth, bringing his hand up by his neck and drawing an imaginary horizontal line back and forth — a gesture for Gojo to not say anymore. But unfortunately, the sign wasn’t seen, and the words kept pouring out.  

“And to be honest, can you imagine? Me and Y/n, a couple? Jesus Christ, that would be fucking exhausting to deal with, especially with someone so boring and too uncute like them. I’ve seen prettier, been with better. I feel sorry for the poor bastard who does end up with them—“

“SATORU GOJO!”

Now — that sudden burst of yell from a loud, masculine voice — that was what got Gojo’s attention. It’s what got the attention of everyone else in the room. The snow-haired student jerks to look at the professor standing at the front, the older man with a deep frown. “What?

The professor doesn’t answer him. Instead, he points to the left of him with his chin with a huff. With common sense, Gojo turns behind him to see where the older man points. And at that moment, he felt his very being drop to the soles of his feet. Haibara and Ijichi took a slow breath in unison at the immediate tension.

Behind him stood you, a lone figure holding their water bottle within three arm’s length away from the group. But that was sufficient enough for you to have heard everything said. 

Breathing suddenly felt impossible for Gojo; his entire body was stiff under your gaze. His shades could hide his eyes, but he wasn’t sure it could shield the instant shame that slapped him across the face from you. 

And that was another thing: the look you harbored was indecipherable — the true definition of disengagement. There were no widened eyes, quivering lips, or shaky hands. You stood plainly and looked as though you were detached from the entire situation. And that was what scared him the most.

This was strike one.

He dared not move when you began walking up, and your eyes then shifted to ignore his presence. “Hey, Yu,” the brunette straightened his posture at the use of the first name. “I think I’ll have to decline on that dinner offer. I’m a little tired and have a paper I need to work on…Maybe next time?”

“Uhh, yeah, sure, no problem.” He answers with a sweat.

Wait a second. Gojo tries to call for you, “Y/n—“

“Ijichi,” but you immediately shut him down and directed your attention to the other sophomore friend as you put on your coat and stuffed your water bottle back into your bag. “Be sure to submit the presentation template and sources to the course site before the end of the day, please.”

“U–Uhh, already done, Y/n.” He squeaks while reassuring.

Wait, please. The tall one tries again, “Wait, Y/n—“

“Good.” You sling your backpack on, refusing to look at the person trying to talk to you. “Well, I’ll be seeing you, then.” And with that, you turn on your heel and head down the row to leave.

No, wait, stop— “Y/n, wait!” This was strike two. 

Gojo doesn’t hesitate to call out to you. At that moment, he follows you to the class steps where you were a row down left from the door. He grabs your hand without thinking, the size of your palm captured by his slender fingers. He knew it was a risky move, but he had to — he had to get you to talk with him right now, if not ever. Because the latter is something he isn’t ready for, something he didn’t think would be a possibility.

And yet, he will learn this lesson of being prepared for the impossible when you rapidly turn to him. Strike three.

SLAP!

Have you ever seen someone get smacked in the face so hard that their sunglasses come off? The remaining two girls who witnessed it know for sure now. Haibara and Ijichi won’t admit to it as they immediately turn to the other side of the room when they saw your hand move. But please believe they winced at the sound of the impact. The same goes for Professor Yaga, who was too stunned to speak, yet it was a valid outcome. 

Gojo didn’t move a single limb, allowing the stinging feeling on his cheek to course through his facial muscles. His eyes were glued to the carpeted ground; he knew that’s where they were supposed to be. And you snatched your hand away from his grasp, leaving his fingers to suffer in forced loneliness.

“You…you think it’s all fun and games to say stuff like that when I turn my back for a few minutes, huh?” He can see your hand palpitate from his peripheral; the anger depicted alone was enough to interpret. And the tremble in your voice? It felt like an arrow to his being. “…Look at me.”

He’d be a fool to have you repeat yourself; he has lost that right to toy with you now. With a slow inhale, Gojo rotates his head at you, azure eyes tracking up your figure to your face. And when it lands at that destination, his heart is shot down.

Tears stream down vexed, watery eyes. Your brows furrowed, and your bottom lip chewed in a terrible attempt to stop it from quivering. The rise and fall of your shoulders as you moderate your breathing, trying so hard not to let your temper dwell into a deeper phase of ugly. It was bad enough you’re crying in public, in front of your peers, your teacher — and it was because of him. 

“From this day forward,” you fight your sniffles to say your statement as clearly as possible. “Don’t you ever talk to me, Satoru Gojo. Enjoy your life without something as boring as me.”

And with that, you dismiss yourself from him and the class altogether, the room silent even after the slam of the door closed. No one says anything, too shocked from the event to utter a letter. 

The silence aids the ringing in Gojo’s ears, his breathing still having trouble maintaining a balanced front. The cheek you slapped burned with pain; he’s sure the skin is as red as a cherry. 

Oh, fuck.

He brings a hand to his face, his body fighting the trembling. The ringing in his ears worsens, along with the pounding in his head that beats like a drum. His eyes stuck to the ground below him, choosing to focus on something inanimate and not living. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

All he could think of in this time and place was you. Memories flashing right before him, of you and only you. He can hear the way you say his name, both in vexation and in sweet tunes. Your smiles, your frowns, your huffs, your whispers. When your eyebrows scrunch whenever you express worry for him, how you’re never afraid to stand up against him when making a point, the smile that’s been blinding him for many days and nights — the smile he wouldn’t mind seeing for eternity.

All those memories were one stab to his heart after another. And every time a recollection ended, a flash of your crying face would return to haunt him. Tears that weren’t meant to be there but were, and warm feelings you expressed with him were gone the moment he saw your eyes void of feelings for him. At least, that’s what he saw.

He hurt you. That was the only revelation that haunted him where he stood, making his voice falter from confidence. It was a revelation he never meant to bring about. And now that it exists and he sees the damage, nothing would be better for him now than the ground beneath him swallowing him whole.

“What…the fuck…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[chosok-amo]

SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS: GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

“suguru, help!” he sounds, pathetic. gojo satoru is a pathetic man when it comes to you. “ . . . there are so many kisses to have, soul and bone for you to crash and swear that how stars are born, so please. . ., believe me, you have to believe me,” he cries, holding your hands, begging for you to love him— love him enough to stay.

warning : age-up! satosugu, depressed! fem x reader, drug mention, trauma mention, suicide, self-harm, death mention, drowning, blood, heavy angst.

w/c : 6,2k | [☆] MASTERLIST

𝜗𝜚 . . . . i had to stop so often writing this because i can't stop crying and think that i shouldn't continue because it hurts me so bad that i have to take a cold shower and think about my life. and honestly, i wasn't supposed to write the last part but yeah..

A MINUTES AFTER YOU TRY TO KILL YOURSELF

it was too quiet. . .

gojo satoru never screams so loud in his entire life, so loud. . . the world shaking beneath his feet, ready to swallow him whole and rotten. so loud . . . he sure he can no longer hear. he ran, slipping on his way until he broke his knee on the puddle of the red, transparent liquid that spill from the bath-up.

the starling sigh, you were there. . .

“no, no, no, baby— no.”

the water, tinged with a haunting crimson, surged and overflowed, cascading into the bathroom with relentless force. it climbed steadily up gojo's legs, as if the liquid itself sought to ensnare him, to drag him down into its suffocating embrace, or just. . . mock him.

a dark mockery that seemed to whisper that it alone held the power to drown him, to swallow your trembling breaths and the last echoes of your voice. it wasn’t him, or geto suguru who was to be your executioner, but the merciless water, eager to claim your final, stutter breath.

“i-i —sorry, i’m sorry..” you stammered.

your voice stammered between choke, barely a murmur beneath the frothy waves, struggled to be heard amidst the tumult. your eyes, devoid of warmth, reflected a chilling detachment. the coldness in your gaze was almost tangible, a stark contrast to the chaotic, drowning world around you.

“suguru, help!” he sounds, pathetic.

gojo, even on the verge of your death is still so gentle, as if he's afraid you are going to die than you already are. dropping on his knees as he tries to pull your warm bodies out of the bath-up.

gojo shook his head, a soft whisper escaping from his trembling lips, “shhh, it's alright baby, it's alright, you're alright,” his mumble, each word a fragile promise against the storm of his own emotions— words and voice shaking, his bones and soul shivering. his strong arm wraps around your body, pulling you closer to his chest, feeling everything, even as his flesh trembling.

tears cascaded from the corner of your eyes, tracing silken paths down your skin, while his embrace, though trembling, sought to cradle and calm you, a sanctuary against the turbulence of your anguish.

“suguru, please help!” again, this time he shouted.

geto runs upon hearing the horror howling, and his purple irises about to peel from his face and his lungs lose air— ragged gasps, as if each inhale were stolen from him. the scene before him struck with a painful clarity: you nestled within gojo’s embrace, your body wracked with distress.

foaming at the mouth, you appeared trapped in a tormenting grip of anguish, while the open scars on your wrist bled stories of suffering and desperation. in that moment, the sight was both heart-wrenching and surreal, a vivid tableau of fear and pain, painted across the canvas of his deepest fears.

“i'm sorry— i-i'm so sorry,” you whisper between choking gasps as geto kneels beside you and your body shaking. tears cascade uncontrollably, each dropping a shimmering testament to a sudden, overwhelming regret. it is as though a profound realization has swept over you, too late to mend the wounds that have been inflicted.

the regret feels like a bitter aftertaste of the sorrow you can no longer escape. the eyes of those around you, trembling with the weight of their own anguish, are bloodshot and haunting, mirroring the crimson that flows from your wrist. in that agonizing moment, the world feels irrevocably broken, and the fleeting desire to be alive seems like a distant, unreachable dream.

they burst from the bathroom, gojo's arms wrapped tightly around you as he dashes through the chaos. your lifeless feet and hands dangle, a heavy, haunting reminder of the blood seeping steadily onto the floor. each drop forms a macabre trail, like the relentless shadow of death that clings to you, a grim companion refusing to let go.

the crimson stains splatter and pool in your wake, an anguished testament to the finality that now seems inevitable— each red stain on the ground is a haunting reminder, a stark declaration. as they run, the blood's mournful descent weaves a sorrowful narrative of moments slipping away, each drop a poignant echo of what might have been, a stark and unyielding declaration that time has run out, that it is too late.

and suddenly, everything feels like a slow motion.

6 HOUR AFTER YOU TRY TO KILL YOURSELF

the doctor spoke with a grave tone, his words laced with concern. “it appears,” he began, looking at gojo who's just sitting there with his eyes focusing on the floor, meanwhile geto standing beside him. “that she intentionally tried to overdose. we've had to act swiftly to pump the substances from her body, working to counteract the severe effects of her actions.”

geto's hand gently gripping on gojo's shoulder as they listen. his expression was one of solemn seriousness, reflecting the urgency and gravity of the situation. “we've done everything we can to stabilize her, but it's crucial that you two understand the seriousness of what she has done. this was a life-threatening situation, and we're only beginning to address the underlying issues that led to this crisis.”

the doctor continued, his voice carrying a mix of relief and concern. “fortunately, the cut on her wrist wasn't too deep,” he said, his eyes scanning the notes before them. “it seems that the severity of the injury was somewhat mitigated by her weakened state from the drugs. if she had been stronger, the outcome might have been different.”

his tone softened, acknowledging the fragile balance between the danger of the overdose and the mitigating effects of your physical condition. “we've managed to address the immediate threats, but it's crucial to understand that this is a serious wake-up call. we need to work on her recovery and the emotional struggles that led to this moment.”

if she had been stronger, the outcome might have been different,’ the words echoed repeatedly, hauntingly through the air, like a broken record stuck on a painful refrain. once, twice, three times, they reverberated through their minds, each repetition a stark reminder of how close they came to losing you, how dangerously close the edge of despair was.

even the notion of ‘almost’ carried a weight too immense to bear, a heavy presence that pressed down on their hearts. the silence that followed was thick with unspoken guilt and anguish; none of them could find the words to bridge the chasm of their shared grief. they avoided each other's gaze, unable to escape the silent blame that hung heavy between them, a suffocating testament to their collective sense of failure.

gojo stared at his hands through the thin veil of his blindfold, his fingers trembling as they traced the dried blood staining his pale skin. the sight of it was a brutal reminder of you. with a strained effort, he clenched his hands tightly, hoping to meld the dried blood with his own, as if to erase the haunting evidence of what had transpired— his last hope trying to be with you.

each breath felt like a desperate gasp, a small gap forming between his lips as he struggled to draw in air. the sensation of suffocation gripped him, a relentless pressure squeezing his chest, making each inhale a battle. despite his efforts, the air seemed insufficient, leaving him feeling as though he were on the precipice of life, teetering on the brink of an abyss that threatened to swallow him whole.

geto felt an overwhelming tide of guilt and anguish, a heavy weight pressing down on his heart. the scene that unfolded before him replayed in his mind like a relentless, agonizing loop, hunting him down like he is some kind of a fucking prey. he was haunted by the sight of your suffering, the image of your blood-streaked hands and the anguished cries that pierced the air. each moment of his own reflection, seeing the remnants of your blood on his skin and his white shirt, deepened his torment.

the sense of responsibility gnawed at him, a constant reminder of how close he came to losing you. he felt suffocated by a profound sorrow and helplessness, as if the very air around him was too thick, leaving him gasping for breath— like the death itself pointing its ugly fucking finger to his face and laugh at him, at them.

what a fucking pathetic man’ the death must be said.

the weight of the situation settled heavily on his shoulders, and the silence between him and his companions only amplified his inner turmoil. the unspoken blame and the aching realization that he couldn't undo what had happened created a chasm of despair within him, making each moment feel like an eternity of unbearable remorse.

both of them are buried in profound sea of grief, guilt, shame because a thousand moments with you that they take for granted— shame, for thinking, assume that there would be a thousand more. is it too selfish to be here?’ they thought.

that curse must be laughing at them, the higher-ups, everyone— pointing their finger from all directions. look at them, ’ they thought, those two who called themselves the strongest can even save a single soul,’ again they must be laughing, let alone a soul who is to be called the love of their life.

but nobody knows, none, not even a single soul that, oh, how your presence evokes such selflessness in them— even amid their silent, tormented reflections. they are consumed by an incessant questioning of the selfishness of their own sorrow, wondering if it is wrong to cling to their grief while you teeter on the precipice of loss.

the haunting thought persists, a cruel reminder of time's fragile nature and the profound depth of their remorse. in their heartache, they are acutely aware of the contrast between their own suffering and the delicate balance of your existence, each moment of their anguish a poignant testament to the sorrow they feel for having taken so much for granted.

is it okay to feel sad? ’ they thought.

even the very sensation of sadness and grief feels like an indulgence they do not deserve. i can't even protect her, what rights do i fucking deserve to be sad?’ they thought. to them, these emotions seem an opulent luxury, an extravagant gift they are not entitled to. in their hearts, the depth of their sorrow feels almost excessive, a poignant reminder of how their suffering pales in comparison to the magnitude of the almost loss they face.

each wave of grief feels like a grand, unwelcome opulence, an unjust reward for the pain they have caused and the moments they have squandered. the luxury of their sadness seems a cruel irony, a stark contrast to the profound emptiness of the reality they must now confront.

people passing by in front of them, throwing them a glance or two. seeing their red eyes and tears-stain cheeks, blood in their hands, in shirts, in pants, in their soul, laid bare. everyone wants to give them both a pat on the back, telling them that they are good at handling grief; howling, crying, and blaming each other. that's the proper way to handle grief.

18 HOUR AFTER YOU TRY TO KILL YOURSELF

your hands are warm, a stark contrast to the pallor of your pink lips, which have lost their vibrant hue, your eyes open still so retain their gentle softness, a quiet testament to the grace you still hold.

as you lie upon the hospital bed, draped in the drab, floral-patterned gown that clings to you, it feels woefully inadequate. the gown, mundane and worn, seems too insipid and shabby to encompass your beauty, too faded and forlorn.

“i'm sorry. . .” you mumble.

you can’t bring yourself to look at them as they sit beside your bed, their eyes red and swollen from sleepless nights, their uniforms crumpled and disheveled, their hair falling in untamed disarray. their faces have lost their vibrant hue, a stark contrast to their usual vitality.

gojo satoru’s once-brilliant blue eyes, which used to shimmer with an unyielding light, now seem dull and lifeless, even when the golden sunlight spills over them. the sunlight, which once might have enhanced the beauty of his gaze with its warm orange tones, now only serves to highlight the emptiness that has replaced his once-sparkling eyes— it's dull, it's dull, it is fucking dull.

geto suguru's strikingly handsome face is graced with a smile, tender and achingly gentle, as though he is pouring all his effort into offering you a sliver of solace. his lips tremble with a subtle quiver, betraying the deep sadness that lingers beneath his calm exterior. his once-vibrant purple irises have dimmed, their former brilliance faded to a shadow of their former selves.

you fear that they might darken further, losing their hue altogether, slipping into a void of despair where even color seems to vanish. the sight of his sorrowful eyes, so devoid of their usual spark, reflects a profound sadness that pierces the heart, a silent testament to the emotional toll of the moment.

oh, what i have done. . .’ you thought.

“don't, please don't,” gojo pleads, his voice trembling as he clasps your unharmed hand with a desperate grip. his blindfold has been removed, revealing eyes that are filled with raw, unfiltered emotion as he gazes at you. beside him, geto's hand rests gently at the back of your head, his touch tender and soothing. he caresses your hair with a featherlight motion, his thumb brushing softly over your scalp.

“we are so sorry for taking you for granted,” he murmurs, the words heavy with regret and sorrow. “we are sorry for offering you only a lukewarm love, when you deserved a love that was fierce and all-consuming, a love that burned brightly and fiercely. i'm sorry,” his voice wavers, each word an echo of their deep remorse, as they both grapple with the weight of their unspoken apologies and the profound realization of what they failed to give you.

they do not seek to question why your soul bleeds, nor do they dare to unravel the dark tapestry of your pain. the blood, flowing with a steady, silent, and disturbingly deliberate pace, engulfs you in its relentless embrace. it seeps into every corner of your being, a somber tide that threatens to consume you entirely.

they find themselves unable to confront this harrowing reality, their hearts too burdened to bear the weight of such a painful inquiry. the sight of your suffering leaves them paralyzed, unable to utter the questions that linger in their minds, as they grapple with the profound helplessness of watching you slowly succumb to the encroaching shadows.

“i love you, baby,” gojo whispers, “i'm sorry that you're in so much pain so to think death is the only salvation,” he stopped for a second, cocooning your hand with his large one before resting his cheek against. “i'm sorry i didn't notice your rage for the world and too busy loving you. does my love scare you, love? that's why you decided to leave, hm?” his voice shaking, lips quivering.

“if you are angry, stab me a little so you can feel better, make it hurt, i don't care. a little suffering would be worth it if it's by your hands, by your pretty little hands,” he murmured against your skin, his breath a warm whisper that sent shivers across your body. each word was a soft plea, wrapped in a tone that trembled with both desperation and tenderness.

his trembling lips pressed gently against your hand, each kissing a fleeting starburst of warmth against your cool skin. him— no they, stood ready to endure your pain, inviting you to inflict upon them the hurt you felt.

they stand poised to let you sink your teeth into them, to delve into their very flesh. to let you open them up, laid bare and vulnerable, just to offer you a chance to heal. just so they can love you a little too much, starving even— like a flesh begging to be knitting together over a wound. ruin me, ruin us, and we will let you.

“i love you, i love you, i love you,” he gave you stars in each between. they fucking love you like a rotten dog. “believe me when i said this. . . there are so many kisses to have, soul and bone for you to crash and swear that how stars are born, so please. . ., believe me, you have to believe me,” he cries, holding your hands, begging for you to love him— love him enough to stay, “we love you.”

he finally said we’ geto thought.

at first glance, people might assume that geto suguru’s love for you surpasses that of gojo satoru, that his love is somehow greater. yet, the truth remains that it has always been gojo satoru who harbors the most profound and boundless love for you from the very beginning. his love is vast, immense, and utterly astonishing, stretching beyond the horizons of understanding.

gojo’s devotion is a vast expanse, a love so deep and wide that it seems to defy the very limits of emotion. even geto suguru, who himself is capable of immense love, finds himself awestruck and somewhat intimidated by the sheer magnitude of gojo’s feelings. no one can truly grasp the depth of gojo’s love—not even gojo himself—such is the overwhelming, almost incomprehensible nature of his heart’s boundless devotion to you.

and sometimes it scares the shit out of geto.

but maybe, just maybe, they have a little too much love for you more than for each other, even more than for themselves— as if you make a space in their ribs, and call it home country.

30 HOUR AFTER YOU TRY TO KILL YOURSELF

geto stirred from a restless sleep, his head resting gently against your hospital bed, nestled close to your side. as he slowly opened his eyes, he was met with the soft, gentle sight of you gazing at him, a faint, tender smile gracing your lips. the serene moment, bathed in the quiet of the hospital room, brought a flicker of warmth to his weary heart, a small but profound comfort amid the lingering shadows of their shared sorrow.

“hey sunshine,” geto whispered in a hoarse croak, reaching a hand to brush your hair away from your face, “how long have you been awake?”

“long enough to notice the dark circles under your eyes and the tear stains on your cheeks,” you replied softly, your fingers brushing gently against his cheek, your thumb tenderly caressing the worn skin. geto hummed, his hand capturing yours and guiding your palm to his lips, where he planted a gentle kiss.

the touch of your skin was like a salve, soothing the ache in his weary soul. he chuckled weakly. his eyes were tired and his skin pale, but your touch made him feel alive. “you’re too observant for your own good,” he teased, his lips curving into a weary smile.

geto shifted in his chair, wincing slightly as his body protested the movement. he settled into a more comfortable position, still holding your hand in his, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your knuckles.

he studied your face, taking in every detail, from the delicate flutter of your eyelashes to the subtle flush in your cheeks. the sight of you, even in this vulnerable state, filled his heart with a mixture of tenderness and protectiveness.

“how are you feeling?” he asked, his voice low and gentle, his gaze fixed on your face. he knew it was a question he had asked before, but he couldn’t help himself. he needed to hear you speak, hear your voice, just to reassure himself that you were still with him.

“like shit,” you answer.

your hand is still gently cupping his cheek, thumb running low across his skin in a loving manner. at your blunt response, geto's lip curled into a soft smile. even in your weakened state, you still had a defiant spark.

he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the sensation. “i thought we agreed no profanity,” he teased, his voice laced with affectionate humor, opening his eyes to meet your gaze. he turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against the palm of your hand in a tender kiss.

“you’ve always been a bad influence on me,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and ticklish. he chuckled softly, his eyes softening as he studied your face.

he took a moment to compose his words, his expression growing serious. “there was a moment,” he began, his voice a hoarse whisper, “a moment when i thought i lost you.”

your smile faltered, and your eyes softened with concern as you listened to the gravity in his voice. you reached up to gently touch his cheek again, your thumb brushing away the remnants of his sadness.

“i’m here now,” you whispered, your voice steady but filled with warmth. “you haven’t lost me.” you looked deeply into his eyes, trying to convey with your gaze the depth of your presence and the promise of your unwavering support. “and i’m not going anywhere,” you added softly, hoping to soothe the lingering fear in his heart.

his hand covers yours, holding it against his cheek as he closes his eyes, relishing in your soothing touch. for a moment, he just allows himself to bask in your presence, letting the warmth and comfort wash over him.

“i was afraid i wouldn’t get to hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice growing thicker with emotion. he opened his eyes, the raw vulnerability in his gaze bared to you, his heart laid bare.

your heart ached at the sight of his vulnerability. you gently squeezed his hand, your voice trembling with sincerity as you spoke. “i’m so sorry,” you said softly, your eyes filled with compassion.

geto’s thumb traced gentle, small circles on the back of your hand. “you have nothing to apologize for,” he assured you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “it was my responsibility to keep you safe, and i failed.”

the guilt and regret in his voice were palpable, the weight of his self-imposed responsibility clear. he lowered his gaze, wrestling with emotions that were etched deeply into every line of his weary face.

he lifted your hand from his cheek, bringing it to his lips and pressing a lingering kiss against your knuckles, his gaze never leaving yours. “i just need you to know how much you mean to me,” he added, his voice cracking slightly. his grip on your hand tightened, as if he was holding onto you for dear life.

geto’s lips continued to brush against your knuckles as he spoke, soft and gentle. his eyes held yours captive, the depth of his affection bared for you to see.

“you are my everything,” he confessed, his voice hoarse with the weight of his honesty. “the thought of losing you, of living in a world where you don’t exist…” he trailed off, a pained expression crossing his features. he was torn between the love that engulfed his heart and the fear that threatened to consume him.

geto drew in a shaky breath, composing himself as best he could. he lifted his gaze from your hand, meeting your eyes once again. his expression held a mixture of love and devotion, but also a hint of desperation.

“i need you to know that no matter what, i will do everything in my power to protect you,” he vowed, his voice steady despite the turbulent emotions raging within him. “not just because it’s my duty, but because i love you more than i thought it was possible to love someone.”

you met his gaze with a warm, reassuring smile, the depth of your gratitude shining through. “thank you,” you said softly, your voice imbued with genuine appreciation. your smile was a reflection of the profound comfort and reassurance you felt, a silent promise to stand together through whatever lay ahead.

geto’s eyes softened at your smile, a flicker of relief passing over his weary face. he squeezed your hand gently, his touch both appreciative and protective.

he studied your face for a moment, his gaze lingering on each contour, each freckle and line, as if to further commit them to memory. “don’t scare me like that again,” he murmured, mostly in jest, but with an underlying current of seriousness.

gojo entered the room, his expression a mix of relief and lingering concern as he carried a bag of your belongings. upon seeing the tender moment between you and geto, his eyes softened, though they carried a hint of the exhaustion and worry that had shadowed him. he set the bag down and approached, took a sit at the edge on the other side of your bed, his voice catching slightly as he spoke.

“don’t scare me like that again too,” he said, his tone gentle but tinged with the weight of his emotions. his gaze met yours with a blend of earnestness and relief. “i know suguru’s been holding on tight, but i’ve been right here, too. seeing you like this... it’s been hard on all of us. please, don't leave us.” his words were a heartfelt plea, an echo of the concern and love he carried for you, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the strength of his devotion.

geto’s grip on your hand tightened momentarily at the sound of gojo’s voice, his eyes darting towards his best friend. he could hear the exhaustion and worry that laced gojo’s words and knew all-too-well the weight of the responsibility they shared.

he turned his gaze back to you, his expression a mix of worry and relief. his thumb resumed its gentle, soothing circles on the back of your hand. “yeah,” he said in agreement, his voice gruff with emotion. “please, don’t scare us like that again.”

gojo’s presence brought with it a sense of familiarity, a comfort that was both grounding and reassuring. he reached out and placed a gentle hand on your arm, his touch a silent expression of his affection and concern.

he studied your face, his eyes tracing every contour, every line, as if to commit the sight to memory. “how are you feeling?” he asked, his voice softer now, though still tinged with worry. “i wanna say like shit but suguru said no profanity,” you puff a little chuckle.

geto gives a little scoff at your comment, his expression laced with a mixture of annoyance and affection. he rolls his eyes playfully and mutters, “you’re such a bad influence.”

gojo’s lips curled into a small smirk before he turned his gaze back to you, the lines around his eyes creasing with a mix of amusement and relief. “can’t have you talking like that,” he teased, his words light but carrying a hint of genuine concern.

gojo studying your face carefully before speaking ever so softly, “well, apart from the obviously crappy mood geto’s been in, you look good. your color is better.” he noticed a faint crimson crushed on your cheeks, a little pink on your lips.

he reached his hand out to smooth a strand of hair away from your forehead, his touch light and tender. his gaze wandered from your face to where geto still held your hand, his eyes reflecting a subtle hint of appreciation.

geto watched gojo's gentle touch, his grip on your hand unconsciously tightening a little bit in response. his expression was a mixture of protectiveness and vulnerability, his eyes betraying the fear and worry that still tugged at his heart.

he took the moment to observe the soft interplay of emotions between you and gojo, the easy familiarity and the deep bond that existed between you all. he could sense the weight of gojo's concern as he studied your face, the care and attention in his touch.

gojo's voice was soft as he continued, his gaze still fixed on your face. “so, how are you feeling, for real?” he asked, his tone a gentle echo of geto's earlier question. “any pain? any discomfort?”

geto looked at you, his eyes silently pleading for you to be honest. he was hanging off your every word, each response a small insight into your well-being.

you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their concern pressing down on you. meeting gojo’s gentle gaze and then turning to geto’s silent plea, you spoke with a mixture of remorse and honesty. “i’m sorry,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “i’m sorry for how i handled things. i know i should have talked to you both, but i didn’t—i tried to take matters into my own hands without thinking it through first.”

your eyes reflected a deep sense of shame and regret as you continued. “i actually feel like absolute shit right now, and i’m ashamed of myself for thinking i could find a quick solution without considering the impact it would have on you both.” you looked at them, hoping your words conveyed the depth of your remorse and the sincerity of your apology, wanting them to understand that your actions were not a reflection of your feelings for them, but rather a moment of misguided desperation.

gojo's expression softened with understanding, his eyes filled with compassion. he knew the weight of your words, the regret and shame that clung to them. he reached his hand back to your arm, his touch gentle and reassuring.

geto's gaze was a mix of surprise and relief as he processed your apology. his hand around yours tightened slightly, his thumb tracing reassuring circles on your skin. “it's okay,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “we all have moments of weakness. what matters is that you're here, safe and alive.”

you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you at their responses, their understanding and compassion a balm to your wounded spirit. “thank you,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “thank you for not being angry with me and for not questioning me right away. i know i made a terrible mistake, and i’m grateful you’re here, supporting me instead of condemning me.”

geto's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes filled with a complex mixture of emotions— relief, love, and a hint of lingering fear. he shook his head gently, a reassuring smile on his lips.

gojo chuckled softly, his eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and playfulness. “we can save the anger and lecturing for when you’re not looking so terrible,” he joked, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “and trust me, baby, i had a lot of choice colorful words for you when the right time comes,” he lean in to kiss your forehead, “but right now, we just trying to be here for you.”

geto nodded in agreement, his grip on your hand still tight. he couldn’t help but roll his eyes a bit at gojo's playfulness, but there was a hint of fondness beneath the feigned annoyance.

he leaned in, reaching out with his other hand to gently brush a strand of hair off your forehead. “you are a stubborn, reckless, and stubborn pain in the ass,” he scolded lightly, his tone a soft but affectionate mix.

gojo chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners with humor. he settled himself closer, his hand still resting lightly on your arm. “he's right, you know,” he chimed in, his smile wide. “you're very good at pushing our buttons and getting under our skin.”

geto's lips curled into a small smile, his expression a mixture of feigned anger and affection. “and you're even better at making us worry,” he added, his tone light but underlined with the gravity of their concern. “but we care about you more than anything,” he added, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “so you better not do something like that again, you hear me?” his voice held a hint of authority, but mostly it was filled with love and concern.

geto's smile grew a bit wider, his eyes crinkling endearingly at the corners. “yeah,” he said, his voice firm. “you better listen. we don’t need anymore of these near-death experiences from you.”

gojo chimed in enthusiastically, leaning in a bit closer. “yeah, cause let me tell you, i can’t handle any more gray hairs than i already have.”

geto's grip on your hand tightened again, his expression a mix of sternness and vulnerability. he looked at you intently, his gaze locking with yours. “he's right,” he echoed, his voice firm but filled with warmth and care. “no more reckless decisions. no more putting yourself in danger. you hear us, my love?”

gojo nodded in agreement, his expression serious but eyes softened with concern. he added, “yeah, we can't keep having our hearts in our throats like this. it's not good for our health, you know.” geto's hand caressed your arm gently, a silent plea for your understanding. “we just want you safe and sound. that’s all we ask.”

a hint of vulnerability flashed across geto's face, his expression betraying the weight of his words. he locked eyes with you, his gaze filled with a mixture of pleading and sincerity.

“we just want to know that you're safe,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “that you're not recklessly endangering yourself anymore.”

gojo leaned in closer, his hand resting on your arm lightly. “we can't bear the thought of something happening to you again,” he chimed in, his tone carrying an undercurrent of worry.

they continued to exchange tender words and earnest pleas, their voices overlapping in a chorus of concern and affection. each spoke fervently about their love and the lengths they would go to ensure your safety and happiness. their words, though filled with their own fears and frustrations, were underscored by a deep, unwavering care for you.

as you watched them, a soft smile touched your lips. their earnest devotion, their refusal to let you face this alone, filled you with a profound sense of comfort and gratitude. you could see their love in every gesture and hear it in every word, and it warmed your heart. despite the gravity of the situation, their caring presence made you feel cherished and supported, giving you strength even in the midst of your own turmoil.

after a few moments of their heartfelt declarations, the room fell into a short silence, the weight of their words lingering in the air.

gojo ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of nervous energy. “and just so you know, suguru here basically took a week off work to sit by your bedside like a damn watchdog, he even almost made the rainbow dragon eat gakuganji because that fucker won't let him leave.” geto, caught off guard by the sudden revelation, flushed faintly and shot a glare at gojo.

geto, taken aback, shot a sharp look at gojo before retort, “you clearly about to hollow purple the higher-ups and the entire school because they won't let you stay here with her.” gojo's expression darkened for a moment, “you know i would do it in a heartbeat, if i could.” geto's grip on your hand tightened, his gaze still fixed on gojo. “i know you would. and i'd be right there with you.”

gojo and geto turned their attention back to you when they heard your soft chuckling, their expressions a mix of relief and amusement at hearing you laugh.

gojo chuckled as well, “you find that funny, huh?” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. geto rolled his eyes a bit, but his own smile betrayed his true feelings. he couldn't stay serious when you laughed. “just the thought of us going rogue and taking down the entire school system for you is amusing, i guess,” he said, his tone laced with sarcasm.

you hummed in satisfaction, “they are shit anyway.” a gentle smile lingering on your pale lips.

gojo chuckled warmly, his eyes sparkling at your comment. “ah, and there’s that signature wit of yours coming back.”

geto, still feigning annoyance but struggling to hide a grin, shook his head slightly. “still as blunt and unfiltered as ever,” he said, his eyes soft.

you glances at both of them, the comforting silence lingering between you, and with a tender smile, you mouthed softly, “i love you.” your cheeks flushed a delicate crimson beneath your pale complexion as you kissed their cheek.

gojo and geto exchanged a brief glance at your sweet words and soft kisses, their hearts swelling with warmth and love. gojo's hand reached out to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and loving. “we love you too,” he said softly.

geto's smile widened as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “always,” he breathed, his voice filled with tenderness.

the thought of you coming back to them is warm.

TAGLIST :

@junni-berry @fortunatelyfurrygiver @soraya-daydreams @diorzs @dancing--devils @iloveboysinred @bounie1 @nina3871 @ohnotheusernameisbroken

[theostrophywife]

devil eyes.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: devil eyes by hippie sabotage.

author's note: this spicy fic is in collaboration with my darling @writingsbychlo. make sure you check out hide and seek. we've been scheming for weeks and i'm so happy to finally share this fun little story with all of you. keep an eye out for some cheeky cameos 👀

The cardinal rule of Gryffindor House was plain and simple—never ever make a bet with the Weasley twins. 

Anyone stupid enough to do so either found themselves out a pocketful of galleons or worse, owing Fred and George a no questions asked favour that the pesky redheads could cash in at any time. 

Unfortunately, you were a little more than tipsy off of a bottle of firewhisky and bet one of the twins, Fred? George?—you couldn’t remember which ginger you’d sold your soul to—that you could easily outfly him on the pitch during a quidditch after party. After a violent hangover, the annoying git actually showed up outside of your dorm with a Firebolt in each hand. 

“Let’s see those skills in action then, Y/N.” 

On a normal day, you might’ve managed it. You were smaller and lighter than Fred, which gave you an advantage in flight, but as your head pounded and your stomach churned, you knew there was no way you were getting on that bloody broom. Though your house motto was all about being bold and brave, you weren’t reckless enough to risk it. 

Instead, you settled for a favour. 

In hindsight, you probably should’ve just stuck to death by eating shit on the quidditch pitch. It would’ve been a hell of a lot better than trying to squeeze yourself into a stupid tiny little costume that bordered on exotic dancer more than scary witch, but it’s not like you had much of a choice. You had a debt to settle. Fred made sure to remind you of that.

While the rest of your housemates headed to the Forbidden Forest, you were busy preparing for the vital role that your ginger overlords had assigned to you for the night. Since it was Fred and George’s last year, the twins were determined to solidify their status as Hogwarts legends. What better way to leave their mark than throwing a huge rager in the forest? Thus, the All Hallow’s Eve Fest was born. 

As far as your professors knew, it would be a small festival to celebrate the season complete with carnival games, enchanted rides, and cornfield mazes. All harmless fun. But the student body knew that the Weasley twins had something far more devious up their sleeves. 

From what Fred told you, the night would be full of secret passages, elaborate tricks, and actors and actresses who would add to the whole allure. You were to be one of them. Tonight, you were playing the part of a seductive sorceress who ripped out the hearts of unsuspecting men. 

You were practically made for the role, Fred joked. 

You threatened to resort to method acting and grabbed at the front of his shirt with every intent to rip his heart out of his chest. Luckily for him, George came to his rescue and tore his twin from your grasp before you could inflict damage. 

“See you at the Forbidden Forest at seven sharp,” Fred called as he tossed the costume at you. “Don’t be late, Y/N!” 

At half past six, you almost considered skipping the event altogether, but that would mean owing the twins yet another favour. It was best to get this over with as quickly as possible. Sighing, you tugged on some fishnet tights and slipped into a pair of high-heeled boots that laced all the way up to your thighs. You placed a hand on your hip, frowning at your reflection in the mirror of the prefect’s bathroom. 

“Are you trying to scare the masses or seduce them?” 

You turned around to find your friend Chloe perched up against the sink, smirking as she raised a brow at you. 

“I’m supposed to be a bloodthirsty sorceress,” you said as you snatched her tube of lipstick and painted your lips with a fiery red shade. “Know any men who wouldn’t mind having their hearts ripped out?” 

She chuckled, swinging her legs in the air. “A few. The boys will be in skull makeup tonight, so aim for them first. Save the curly one for me, though.” 

“You’ve sent Riddle out on that wild goose chase of yours, then?” 

Chloe smirked and blew on her freshly painted nails. “He’s got until midnight to find me.” 

“What happens when the clock strikes twelve?” 

“Let’s just say that I’m fully prepared to live up to my house’s name and let him slither in.” 

“At least one of us is having fun tonight.” 

“Who says you can’t? You may owe Fred a favour, but that doesn’t mean you can’t cause a little trouble.” 

You smirked in the mirror as you put on the final piece of the costume. The gold mask fit perfectly over your eyes and truly completed the sinister seductive sorceress part that Fred cast you as tonight. 

“I like the way you think.” 

The promise of mischief and chaos helped to put a little pep in your step as you and Chloe parted ways. You didn’t even recognize the Forbidden Forest as you stepped foot into the haunted woods. There were colourful tents set up all around the clearing, some containing mirrored mazes and others promised fortunes readings. The combination of red lights and creepy fog gave the demented looking carnival an eerie feel. As much as you hated to admit it, the twins have really outdone themselves tonight. 

After running through the spell that conjured a hyper realistic heart that you’d be ripping out of unsuspecting victims all night, Fred directed you towards the east side of the forest. 

“Remember, it’s not a good night unless someone’s pissed themselves out of fear,” Fred reminded you for the thousandth time. 

“You’re a sadist, Forge.” 

Fred placed a hand over his heart. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Y/N.” 

“Piss off, yeah?” 

He chuckled. “I’d tell you to act scary, but you’ve got that down pat.” Fred cocked his head, examining your costume. “Although, would it kill you to show a little more leg?” 

“It won’t kill me, but I might kill you.” 

Fortunately for Fred, George plucked his twin away from your murderous clutches to start greeting their guests. By the time it was half past seven, the clearing was full of your fellow students. Despite your initial reluctance, scaring the absolute piss out of people was actually a lot of fun. As Fred predicted, you had a natural talent for it. 

The first group that wandered into your neck of the woods consisted of your fellow housemates. Dean and Seamus led the pack while Ron and Harry followed close behind. The Chosen One was as pale as Peeves. Weasley, on the other hand, looked as though he might vomit at any moment. Leading the rear, Hermione shook her head and marched forward. Neville matched her pace as he nervously darted through the twisted roots choking up the forest floor. 

You waited until their group passed through the twisted willow tree before jumping out. Dean screamed in surprise while Seamus scrambled away from you. Thanks to Fred’s little trick, your hand went right through Finnigan’s shirt which caused him to shriek in terror. With a twisted smile, you yanked the hyper realistic heart out of his chest and cackled in delight. 

At the sight of the beating organ in your hands, Neville nearly passed out. Dean hauled Seamus to his feet while Ron and Harry hightailed it out of there. Hermione chuckled, shaking her head at the boys. 

“Well, they lasted longer than I thought they would,” she said. “Stuck out here for the night, Y/N?” 

“Unfortunately,” you replied as you vanished the dry blood with a quick spell. “Anyone you want me to scare the absolute wits out of tonight, Mione?” 

She chuckled, shaking her head. “No, I don’t have any scores to settle.” You nodded, wishing her a good rest of the night. 

Hermione bid you the same and started to follow the direction that the boys fled to. Before she disappeared through the thicket, a familiar, drawling voice called her back. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the golden girl.” 

Draco Malfoy appeared in the clearing. There was skull makeup on his face, but the shock of platinum blonde hair gave away his identity almost instantly. He stalked towards Hermione with that arrogant aristocratic smirk, completely oblivious that you were lurking in the dark. 

“All alone in the woods, little lion?”

Hermione’s gaze flickered towards you. A smile curved against her lips as her honey eyes glimmered with mischief. “On second thought…” 

The golden girl hadn’t even finished the rest of her sentence before you yanked Draco by the wrist and pushed him up against the weeping willow. The blonde blinked, his silver eyes full of surprise and terror as you raked your nails along the column of his throat. The red varnish looked like blood against his pale skin.

“All alone in the woods, little serpent?” 

Draco steeled himself. “And who are you supposed to be?” 

You smirked. “I’ll be whoever you want, darling.” Malfoy shivered as you pressed a palm against his chest. He leaned into your touch, his heart beating erratically underneath your fingertips. For Godric’s sake, he was truly making this way too easy. “As long as you give me your heart.” 

Never in his life had Draco Malfoy looked so terrified. The colour drained from his face as you reached through his perfectly tailored button down shirt, fingers slipping through the expensive silk material. You laughed maniacally and caressed his cheek. 

“Brace yourself, sweetheart. This might hurt a bit.” 

Without warning, you yanked his heart out of his chest. Draco stared in utter horror as blood dripped from your fingertips. The tell-tale heart pounded in your palm,  the mess of flesh and tissue covering your arm with carnage. To Malfoy’s credit, he didn’t scream or flee like your housemates. Instead, the Slytherin appeared rather impressed. 

“The spell work’s not bad.” Draco said with a smirk. He lifted your palm and examined the heart. “A word of advice, though. I would’ve turned the heart black. It would’ve been more realistic.” 

Just as you rolled your eyes, a deep, husky voice pulled your attention away from the blonde. 

“Who even knew Draco Malfoy had a heart?” 

You turned to find a gathering of serpents in the clearing. They were all wearing matching skull makeup, but you could clearly tell who each male was. The gang of Slytherins were pretty infamous and easily recognizable. The curly headed one had to be Mattheo Riddle. His gaze darted through the trees as though he expected someone to appear out of the thick fog. You had to hand it to her, Chloe had the Slytherin eating right out of her hand. 

The one beside him stood a little bit taller and though his face was smeared in the same white and black paint, there was no mistaking Enzo Berkshire’s lopsided grin and soft hazel eyes. Flanking either side of him was Blaize Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, the it-couple of your year, which only left one other serpent to account for. The male that had spoken earlier had to be none other than Theodore Nott. 

You turned your attention back to him, squinting in the faint light as he prowled towards you. Theodore was considerably taller than the rest of his friends, but not in the awkward scrawny way that most boys his age were. He was slim yet strong, sculpted by years of playing quidditch. The makeup only accentuated his high cheekbones and his ridiculously sharp jawline, but it was his eyes—those dead, cold eyes that had half the school swooning over him that gave you pause. 

Theodore grinned as you released your hold on Draco. He cocked his head, arrogance and swagger radiating off of him in waves as his eyes roamed your body. There was something unsettling about his gaze—Theodore’s eyes were neither green nor blue, but rather some undiscovered shade that reminded you of watercolours bleeding into each other. 

The manner in which he ogled you was shameless. He drank in your tight corset, the fishnet tights, and the thigh high boots like you were a painting on the walls of a gallery, pinned up for his viewing pleasure. You held your head high, completely undeterred by his stare. Besides, two could play that game. 

You schooled your features into indifference. “Who are you supposed to be? The Pumpkin King?” 

Theodore flashed you a charming smile that you had no doubt made the rest of the student population swoon. “I’ll be your Jack if you agree to be my Sally, sweetheart.” 

As slowly as possible, you dragged your gaze from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. Theodore smirked as you surveyed him just as he had done to you a few moments ago. Staying true to his Slytherin roots, Theodore wore a black suit and matching freshly pressed trousers, but the silk shirt underneath was maroon—Gryffindor colours. Your house colours. 

“Brave of you to wear rival colours.” 

“I thought you’d be happy,” Theodore drawled. “Better to hide the blood when you rip my heart out, darling.” 

“You think I care about making a mess?” you said with a smirk. “That’s half of the fun.” 

Theodore flashed you a smile that spelled nothing but trouble. “Oh, I think you’re just my kind of witch.” 

“Oi, Notty boy! If you’re done flirting, we’re heading to the mirror maze.”

Blaise was regarded with a wave of dismissal. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.” 

Hermione lingered by the edge of the clearing. She raised a brow in a silent question. You merely shrugged. Theodore Nott wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. 

“Give Longbottom my apologies, Mione. And a calming draught,” you added as an afterthought. “The poor bloke will need it.”

Your friend smiled. “Sure thing. Shall I tell the twins that you’re…indisposed?” 

“No, let my wardens sweat it out a bit.”

Hermione chuckled and waved you off. The rest of the Slytherins followed shortly after, leaving you alone with Theodore. You locked eyes for a moment before you spun on your heel and walked off in the opposite direction. The brunette stared after you in stunned silence before you looked over your shoulder and smirked at him. 

“Well, are you coming or not, Theodore?” 

The sounds of the leaves crunching below his boots indicated that Theodore had snapped out of his stupor and was catching up to you. He did so rather quickly, thanks to those long legs of his. One of his strides was equal to three of yours. It took little to no effort on his part before the two of you were walking side by side. 

“You know who I am, then?”

You shrugged. “It’s not hard to tell you and your cronies apart.” 

Theodore grinned lazily and cocked his head at you. He squinted against the faint light, no doubt trying to ascertain a hint of your identity from underneath the gold mask. 

“It hardly seems fair. You know who I am, but I have no idea who you are.”

You smirked at him. “I’m Sally, remember?” 

“Does that mean I’m your Jack?” 

“For the night, at least.”

He seemed content with that answer. “Where are we headed now, little witch?”

“The Graveyard.”

Theodore appeared slightly baffled, but brooked no argument as you led him through a thicket of trees. You chuckled at the sight of him following you blindly. “A strange girl just told you she was leading you to a graveyard and you didn’t even bat an eyelash. I thought you Slytherins were all about self-preservation?”

“I have no intention of preserving myself tonight,” Theodore drawled. “Feel free to ruin me, Sally.”

“I suppose you think you’re rather charming, don’t you Jack?”

“I don’t think, darling. I know.” 

You rolled your eyes and walked toward the lone tombstone in between the weeping willows. Theodore watched as you waved your wand and muttered an incantation. The ground rumbled beneath your feet, clearing the leaves until an ominous set of stairs appeared in front of the grave. 

Theodore peered over your shoulder. “I suppose you won’t be telling me what’s down there, will you Sally?” 

“Don’t worry, Jack. I’ll hold your hand in case you get scared.” 

It was meant to be a joke, but Theodore took the jest to heart and slipped his hand into yours. You smirked as you intertwined your fingers. If he thought a little hand holding would bother you, then Theodore had no idea what he was in for tonight. 

“Lead the way, love.”

You led him down the steps, plunging into darkness the lower you went. Theodore took the opportunity to press up behind you and kept a hand on your waist as the two of you descended. He was so close that the scent of his expensive cologne mixed with cigarette smoke assaulted your senses.  

A red hazy light flashed up ahead. The pounding music and excited chatter of your fellow classmates grew louder as you and Theodore were transported into the speakeasy. The bar was stocked with alcohol, shots and cocktails floating mid-air with themed drinks like Merlin’s Mourge-a-rita, Witches’ Brew, and Cauldron Colada. You hailed Parvati down who was apparently serving as the bartender tonight along with her twin sister. 

“We’ll take two El Diablos.” 

Theodore raised a brow, but didn’t protest as Parvati presented the shots in front of you. Your fellow housemate also floated a salt shaker and a bowl of limes on the counter. You sprinkled salt on the back of your hand and grabbed a lime wedge in preparation. Theodore did the same, minus the lime. 

“Bottoms up, Jack.” 

“Cheers, Sally.”

After licking the salt off of your hand, you clinked your glass against Theodore’s and knocked the drink back. The El Diablo certainly lived up to its name. The drink was a combination of tequila mixed with pepperup potion and topped off with a hint of cayenne. Needless to say, it had a bit of a kick. 

With a slight grimace, you bit down on the lime, which helped with the unpleasant aftertaste. Theodore caught your wrist and held your gaze as he directed your hand up to his mouth. He mimicked your move and sucked hard on the lime, his lips brushing your fingers as he licked the juice from where it had dribbled onto your palm. 

A shiver snaked down your spine. You may be a shameless flirt, but Theodore was definitely matching your energy. 

“I can’t believe the twins built a speakeasy down here,” Theodore said. He leaned in close so you could hear him over the music. “I’m almost impressed.” 

“I’ll tell my wardens you said that.” 

“You keep calling them that,” Theodore said, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You wouldn’t mean that one of the weasels is your ball and chain in a literal sense, right?”

“Are you jealous, Jack?” 

He smirked. “I just want to know which twin I’m sending to the infirmary tonight.”

You chuckled. “I’m not dating Fred or George. I just owe them a favour. Speaking of which, I’ve got some men to scare. Be a good boy and wait for me here.”

Theodore shook his head. “Oh, I’m not letting you out of my sight. I’m yours for the night, remember?” He toyed with the laces on your corset and pulled you towards him, your breasts pressing against the hard muscles of his chest. “I have a proposition for you, little witch.”

You quirked a brow, which made Theodore chuckle darkly. “Not that kind of proposition, principessa.” He twirled the lace between his fingers. “I say we terrorise the student body together.” 

“You want to help me do my job?”

Theodore shrugged. “Why not? We can be partners in crime.” 

You cocked your head. It certainly would be more fun to have someone else partake in your chore. Curling your fingers around his maroon tie, you pulled Theodore down to your level. His gaze flickered to your mouth and you couldn’t help the thrill that buzzed in your veins as you watched him swallow thickly. 

“You’ve got a deal, Jack.” 

As it turns out, Theodore was an excellent partner in crime. The two of you concocted a rather effective formula to inflict fear upon your classmates. The Red Room soon became your hunting grounds. In the creepy blood soaked maze, Theodore chased groups through the enchanted room while you lurked in the shadows. As soon as they thought they were safe from skull face, the groups were then led right into your trap. 

You could hardly count the amount of people you scared shitless tonight. 

Eventually the two of you returned to the bar for more drinks. You ordered another round of shots, which Theodore accepted without question. By the time you were six shots deep, the tequila had annihilated any sense of personal space between you. Theodore leaned down to take a sip of your drink. 

“Trying to get me drunk, love?”

“That depends,” you quipped back. “How many drinks do I need to plie you with until you agree to dance?” 

“With you? I’d say yes while stone cold sober.”

You grinned. “Come on, then.”

Theodore allowed you to guide him away from the bar and into the throng of your fellow classmates. It was total debauchery out on the dance floor. The music pulsed seductively as bodies writhed to the hypnotic beat and the red light bathed the crowd in a sinister glow as the alcohol loosened both limbs and lips. 

The warmth of the tequila made you feel flushed, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Theodore’s hands on your waist. With your back pressed against his chest, you swayed your hips to the beat of the music. You rocked side to side and grinded against him, which caused his grip to tighten. Theodore’s fingers dug into your sides as you wrapped an arm around his neck and arched your back against his chest. 

His dark lashes fluttered as your lips brushed against the column of his throat. Theodore shuddered when you nipped at his skin. A low groan escaped his mouth as he tried to chase your lips, but you dropped low to the floor and left him in a daze. 

Theodore caught your wrist and pressed you flush against him. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s not polite to tease?’ 

“Do I look like someone who gives a shit about being polite?” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “You should know that I have a terrible habit of playing with my food.” 

Theodore smirked and fisted your hair between his fingers. “And you should know that I have no qualms about being toyed with. As long as you promise to devour me later, little witch.”

You brushed up against him and felt his hardness rub against you. “Cross my heart and hope to die. I’ll get my taste of you tonight.” He inhaled sharply as you tugged him down to you. His eyes fluttered, fully expecting a kiss. “But before that, would you be a dear and get me another drink? I’m absolutely parched.”

A pained expression dawned on his handsome features. Theodore was fully aware of the little cat and mouse game you were playing, but he seemed keen to play along. If only to please you. 

“You’re killing me, bella,” Theodore said with a sigh. He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss on your cheek, a promise of what was to come. “I’ll be right back. Stay here, yeah?” 

“Don’t take too long,” you said with a wink. “I might get impatient.”

With that, Theodore hustled back to the bar. You chuckled at the sight. Your amusement only grew as Chloe approached. As soon as she was within reach, you tugged your friend onto the dancefloor. She happily obliged, the moves flowing naturally. The two of you were known to bring the whole house down at countless parties. 

“I take it Riddle hasn’t found you yet?” 

“No, but he’s close.” Chloe shouted over the music, motioning to the bar where her boyfriend was currently standing. Mattheo, Theo, and Draco were talking in hushed whispers, looking rather serious. 

“Gettin’ colder, he and Draco are heading toward the exit.”

The poor Slytherin was chasing after some unsuspecting blonde girl who looked a lot like Chloe from behind. A mischievous grin curved against her lips as she watched Theodore weave his way back to you, toting a drink in each hand. 

“Is that Theodore Nott you’re flirting with?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” you replied with a coy smile. “He doesn't know it’s me, though, so if he asks you, you have no idea who I am tonight.”

“My lips are sealed.” 

With a wink, Chloe slipped away just as Theodore returned. He handed you a drink and watched as you sipped it slowly. Theodore downed his cocktail in less than a minute and tossed his cup into the nearest trash can. 

“Impatient, aren’t we?” 

“You promised a taste.” 

You smirked, chugging the rest of your drink and wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. Theodore watched intently as you set the empty cup down. “Come and get it, then.”

The words had barely left your lips before Theodore kissed you. There wasn’t a hint of timidness in the way that his lips crashed against yours, a soft moan escaping his mouth as he tilted your chin up to gently bite down on your lower lip. You gasped when he nipped at you, leaving your mouth open for his tongue to slide into. 

The taste of him was intoxicating as he massaged your tongue against his, licking the roof of your mouth before he kissed you sloppily, open-mouthed and positively obscene despite the crowd dancing around you. What started out as a kiss turned into a full blown make out session in the middle of the dance floor. Neither one of you felt a hint of shame as you shared another filthy kiss. With a groan, Theodore’s hands roamed along your back and squeezed when he reached your ass. 

“Fuck, you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.” 

You smirked, already equipped with a salacious response when your gaze caught on the clock behind the bar. It was nearly midnight and the twins had instructed all the actors and actresses to gather in the main entrance for the grand finale. Fred and George would have a fit if they found out you had abandoned your post. The twats would probably demand another favour out of you. There was no way you were going to shackle yourself to the Weasleys a second time. 

“Shit,” you hissed under your breath. “It’s almost midnight. I have to get back.”

“I thought you were my Sally,” Theodore drawled. He looked slightly dazed, his curly hair dishevelled and his lips swollen from your kisses. “Not Cinderella.”

“I’m being serious, Nott. If I’m not back before the clock strikes twelve, I’ll have to owe the twins another favour.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you back in time. Besides, if we’re playing into this whole Cinderella fantasy then let’s skip to the good part and see if it fits and by it I mean me inside of you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. Before you knew it, you were dragging Theodore out of the speakeasy. The two of you climbed the steps three at a time, nearly tumbling over one another as you raced up the stairs. The woods were dark and foreboding, but provided plenty of cover for your illicit activities. 

You tugged Theodore along by his tie and he pressed you against an oak tree, the bark biting at your exposed skin. You were kissing again in no time and the sounds the two of you made were downright lewd. Theodore reached for your mask, but you swatted his hand away. 

“The mask stays on.” 

He smirked. “I didn’t think it was possible to get any harder, but you seem to be an overachiever.”

“I aim to please.” 

Theodore smirked against your neck as he hiked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist. His hand wandered underneath your skirt and those deft fingers of his teased along your soaked core. 

“You’re so fucking wet, little witch.” You groaned as he plunged his fingers between your folds. “Such a pretty cunt too. Will you clench this tightly around my cock when I fuck you?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” you whispered huskily. 

A stream of curses fell from Theodore’s lips, but not in a language that you understood. Italian, perhaps. Whatever it was, it sounded sexy as hell. You unbuckled his belt and slipped your hand into his trousers, feeling his hard length twitch in response. A choked groan rumbled through his chest as you pumped him between your fingers. 

You swallowed thickly. Theodore was long and hard, his cock almost too big to fit inside of you. But you always did like a challenge. 

Those watercolour eyes that had been pinned on you all night turned positively dark. The strange blue and green shade that you had grown familiar with was now swallowed by darkness, leaving Theodore with a gaze that would’ve rivalled Medusa’s. You felt it searing into your skin as you sank down on his length, biting your lip as he stretched your walls. 

“Merda,” Theodore cursed. “So fucking tight. C’mon pretty girl, that’s it. I know you can take all of me.” 

You shuddered a breath as he pushed inside. Theodore watched with hungry eyes as you took him inch by inch. It seemed never ending. “Fuck, you’re so big.” 

Tears pricked the back of your eyes. The stretch was an equal measure of pain and pleasure. You could feel every ridge and vein on his cock and your pussy hugged around him as he throbbed inside of you. 

Theodore caressed your cheek. “It’s alright, little witch. I know you can take it. I’m yours, remember? Your partner-in-crime. So use me, dolcezza. You’re in charge tonight. Just set the pace and I’ll follow.”

The reassuring words encouraged you to slowly grind against him. Theodore hissed as you lifted your hips until only his tip was inside of you. His mouth was hot and needy against yours as you grinded down to take all of him again.

“Che cazzo,” Theodore murmured as he bottomed out.

The drag of his cock was delicious. He filled you to the hilt and pressed his hand on your stomach to feel his length buried deep inside of you. The tightness it caused made the both of you groan. You rolled your hips and set a steady pace, lowering onto his cock over and over again while you whimpered.

“Oh, fuck. It feels like you’re splitting me apart.”

Theodore groaned as he sucked and nipped at your neck. The heat of his tongue was everywhere, leaving marks on your skin in his wake. It would be a pain in the ass to cover, but you didn’t care as you continued to ride him.

“Salazar fucking save me, your pussy feels like heaven.”

Theodore chuckled darkly as you clenched around him. He untied the laces of your corset impatiently, freeing your breasts from the constraints. Theodore brushed his thumb over your hard nipples before taking one into his mouth. He watched with eager eyes as you moaned, sucking and swirling his tongue while you picked up the pace. 

“You look so pretty when you fuck me,” Theodore hummed as he flicked his tongue against your stiffened peaks. “Ride me harder, little witch. That’s it. Yeah, roll your hips just like that. Good girl.”

“Gods, I didn’t expect you to have such a filthy mouth,” you said with a low laugh. “You’re always so quiet in class.”

“So we have a class together,” Theodore said as he thrusted upwards to match your pace. “I thought you sounded familiar.” 

“Is that so?” 

“It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite grasp it. I guess I’ll just have to pay extra attention to all the Gryffindor girls in my classes.”

“I’m a Gryffindor? How do you figure that?”

“Besides your entire personality? You seemed friendly with Granger and though you complain about the twins, I’d wager that you’re mates as well.” 

“Smart and handsome,” you said with a smirk.  “You’re full of surprises aren’t you, Jack?” 

Theodore smirked and thrusted sharply inside of you. “You have no idea, Sally.”

“I thought I was in charge tonight,” you said in a stern voice. 

“You are, but I think you could use a little encouragement. You’re holding back.” 

You circled your hips before lifting them and slamming back down. Theodore’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

“Does it feel like I’m holding back?” 

“I’m a patient man, but if you keep toying with me like this I might just have to fuck that attitude right out of you, little witch.” 

You tilted your chin up and smirked. “So do it.” 

All that bravado left your body as Theodore rutted into you. He drove his cock deep within you, stretching your walls until you were clawing at his back. Theodore grunted as you squelched and squeezed around his length. His pace was relentless and punishing, guiding your hips to bounce on his cock while you moaned in pleasure. 

“Oh gods, right there.” You cried out, burying your face into his neck. 

You inhaled his scent greedily and sank your teeth into his flesh. Theodore slowed his pace and chuckled darkly when you whined. 

“What’s the matter, little witch? Can’t take a dose of your own medicine?” 

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered. “Keep going. I’m so close.” 

“Beg me, darling. Tell me how desperate you are. I want to hear those pretty little words.” 

Theodore halted his movements, his tip barely inside of you as he teased along your folds. He held your hips in place so you couldn’t sink down to take more of him. Usually, you were used to taking charge, but the way he put you in your place had you creaming all over him. Needless to say, you weren’t above begging at this point. 

“Please, I need you. Fuck me harder. Give me everything. I can take it. Every fucking inch.”

“Merda, you’re fucking filthy. Begging for my cock like a good little slut. Brace yourself, bella. Remember that you asked for this.”

A whimper fell from your lips as Theodore bucked into your cunt. His cock impaled you, splitting you apart and knocking the very breath from your lungs as he fucked you roughly against the tree. He squeezed your ass, keeping a firm grip to secure you in place as he jackknifed into you. 

“Oh gods,” you sobbed, raking your nails underneath his shirt and dragging red lines all along his back. Theodore hissed as you clawed at him, thrusting so hard that your teeth rattled every time he drove into you. “Fuck, it’s too much.” 

Theodore grabbed your chin harshly. “No, it’s not. You begged to be fucked, now take my cock like the perfect little whore I know that you are, yeah?”

You nodded. Words escaped you at the moment. The filth coming out of Theodore’s mouth aroused you in more ways than one. Who knew that the silent Slytherin fucked like a god?

A stray tear rolled down your cheek. Theodore licked it away and chuckled as you whimpered. “Are you crying, sweetheart? Such pretty little sobs. Don’t worry, you’ll get your reward. You’ve been such a good girl for me and good girls get to cum.”

At that, Theodore rubbed your clit and pushed you over the edge. His fingers were magic against your sensitive bundle of nerves and it wasn’t long before you were clenching around him, making his hips stutter as the orgasm blindsided you. A scream echoed through the woods and it was only when Theodore covered your mouth when you realised that the sound had come from you. 

“Fuck,” Theodore cursed, dropping his forehead to yours. “Merda, I’m not gonna last much longer. Not when that pretty pussy of yours is milking me dry. Oh gods, I’m gonna cum—“

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist as his body seized underneath you. Theodore bit into your flesh as he came, leaving a bruised purple mark on your collarbone. You had never seen anyone look as beautiful as he did when he lost control, lips parted, cheeks flushed, devil eyes rolling back as the orgasm thoroughly rocked him. 

The stillness that settled over the Forbidden Forest was almost eerie. The two of you looked at one another, dazed and confused as though you weren’t even sure who or where you were at the moment. Through all your romps, no one has ever put your body to the test like Theodore has. You could tell by his intense gaze that he likely felt the same. 

Theodore set you down gently. Compared to how rough he was a few moments ago, the contrast almost made you laugh. You heard the chime of the clock echo a beat later. 

Fuck. That only gave you a minute to sprint through the woods and make it back in time before the twins reached your clearing. You frantically re-tied your corset and straightened the skirts of your dress. Theodore was busy buckling his belt. 

“I have to go,” you said as you shrugged your robe back on. “I’ll see you around, Jack.”

“Wait, you never told me your name!” 

But Theodore was too late. You were already gone by the time he looked up. He sighed and started making his way back to the festivities. The last chime of the clock indicated that it was midnight. He could only hope that you’d gotten back in time. 

Theodore paused as something crunched underneath his feet. He peered down at the forest floor and found something golden peeking out amongst the leaves. With a smile, he picked up the golden mask. 

It looks like his mystery girl left him a clue after all. 

Theodore would find his Sally. 

He’d make sure of it. 

Theodore couldn’t remember the last time he was this excited to attend class. 

After the All Hallow’s Eve party, he’d done everything he could to dig up information on his mystery girl. Theodore had even gone as far as to interrogate the Weasley twins, but as usual, the redheaded menaces were unnecessarily difficult about it. 

“Sorry, mate, but we don’t reveal the identity of our actors and actresses,” George said with a shit-eating grin. 

Fred nodded in agreement. “Confidentiality and all that. We wouldn’t want to go around spilling trade secrets. It’s bad for business.”

The weasels stayed mum even after Theodore offered them a ridiculous amount of money to reveal his mystery girl’s identity. Unfortunately, his desperation only served to intrigue the twins and the sadistic little gits seemed to derive pleasure in seeing Theodore grow more and more frustrated. 

“Best of luck to you, Nott,” Fred said with a little smile. “If you do end up finding her, you’ll need all the fortune you can get. She’s a feisty thing, that one.” 

“I know,” Theodore said with a glare. “That’s exactly why I want to find her.”

George chuckled. “Godric bless your heart.”

If the twats weren’t his main weed suppliers, Theodore would’ve punched their teeth in. Despite Fred and George’s general uselessness, he was in a good mood when Monday rolled around. Equipped with the knowledge that his mystery girl was in one of his classes, he made sure to pay extra attention to every Gryffindor girl. It was only a matter of time before he found her. 

“You’re smiling,” Enzo commented as he caught up to Theodore in the courtyard. “What’s happened? Did my cousin fall down the moving stairs again?”

Theodore snorted. “Even better, Berkshire. I’m going to find my mystery girl today and you’re going to help me.”

“How?” 

“You’re friends with literally everyone. Someone has to know who she is.”

“Hmm, come to think of it Mattheo’s girlfriend is good friends with a lot of the Gryffindor girls. I bet she’d know who it is.” 

“Good, let’s start there. Where is Chloe anyways?” 

“Probably in the Great Hall with Mattheo.”

The two of them headed over to where the rest of the castle was currently having breakfast. Enzo made a beeline for their usual table where Mattheo, Blaise, and Draco were seated, but Thedore didn’t follow. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Chloe seated with a girl who looked vaguely familiar to him. Theodore was sure that you had Charms together. More than that, you were wearing a red and gold tie. A Gryffindor. 

Theodore inched closer, skirting around the edges to listen in on the conversation. 

“How was your weekend?” 

Theodore froze. He knew that voice. It was husky and seductive and sounded exactly like how his mystery girl had when she’d whispered in his ear. 

It was you. 

It had to be. 

“It was good,” Chloe responded with a grin. “Really good.” 

“Mattheo found you after all, then?” 

“He did and suffice to say he liked the second part of my costume more than the first.” 

You laughed in response. Chloe leaned in and lowered her voice. “What about you? You disappeared from the speakeasy, so I’m assuming I’m not the only one who had an eventful night.”

“It was fine.” 

“Just fine?” 

You flushed, biting your bottom lip. “It was the best lay of my life.” 

Theodore smirked. So it wasn’t just him, then. The sex had truly been something else entirely. He had been confident that you must’ve felt the same way in the moment, but doubt crept in since you’d run off so abruptly. Now he had confirmation and it was satisfying as hell to hear you say it. 

“There you are,” Enzo said from behind him. “I brought Mattheo, so we can ask Chloe about your mystery girl.”

“That little witch of yours really put a spell on you, huh, Nott?” Mattheo teased. “Let’s go, then. Maybe my girl can help.”

Chloe looked up and smiled as Mattheo leaned down to kiss her. You glanced up at the exact moment that Theodore came into view. He clocked the way your cheeks flushed as your gaze landed on him.

“You know my boyfriend,” Chloe said. You nodded at Mattheo who shot you a polite smile back. “That’s Enzo and Theo. Boys, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet the boys.” 

Theodore took your hand and brushed his lips against your knuckles. “Hello, Sally.” 

You smiled back in return. “Hello, Jack.”

Chloe’s eyes widened, immediately taking stock of the situation. Mattheo and Enzo were slower to catch on, but luckily she ushered the boys away. 

“We’ll give you two some privacy.” 

You tried not to laugh as Chloe winked behind Theodore’s back. 

“I found you.” 

“So it seems.” 

“I guess you won’t be needing this anymore,” he said as he pulled out the golden mask from his backpack. Theodore’s intense gaze swept over you, cataloguing your features. 

“You kept it,” you said with a small smile. 

“I would’ve returned it sooner if you hadn’t left in such a haste after we—“

“Fucked in the woods?” 

You were amused to find Theodore blushing. “I was going to say hooked up, but I suppose that’s another way to put it. Anyways, you left in such a hurry. You didn’t even give me your name.”

“Didn’t really think you wanted me to stay.”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t been about to think about anything else since that night. You’ve taken over my thoughts. It’s fucking maddening.” Theodore caressed your cheek and tilted your chin so he could look at you better. “My mystery girl. You’re more beautiful than anything I could’ve ever imagined.” 

“Well, you have the real thing now. It’s your move, Jack.”

Theodore shook his head. “No, not Jack. Theo. That’s the name you’ll be screaming from now on. After I take you out on a proper date.”

You raised a brow. “What makes you think I’ll say yes?”

The devilish grin on his face sent shivers down your spine. “You’re really going to turn down the best lay of your life?” Your eyes widened, which made him smile even wider. “That’s right, sweetheart. You’re not the only one who can sneak up on people. So, what do you say?” 

“Pick me up at eight. Don’t be late, Theo.” 

Theodore winked. “It’s a date, Y/N.”

TAGLIST

@annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover @bubybubsters @moony-artemis @natasha887 @lucyysthings @criesinlies @bunnymallowo @niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl @wordsarelife @clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar