#tw: n*sfw | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

romantisized · 18 days ago

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bounce back ── gojo satoru (m).

pairing ⋆ basketball player!gojo satoru & journalist!reader.

professional athletes have the tendency of being cocky over their talents, gojo satoru is the most notorious for it. you decide to knock him down a peg.

genre & word count ⋆ angst & smut | 11.5k words.

fic tags & warnings ⋆ fem-bodied!reader (they/she), basketball!au, enemies to lovers, gojo is a conceited asshole, petty bantering, social media elements, near-death experience/accidental attempted murder, one (1) face slap, unprotected sex, pull out method, hate(-ish) sex, sub!gojo & dom!reader, fingering, one (1) pussy slap, squirting, slight degredation, crying, etc.

sticky notes ⋆ this ended up so much longer than i anticipated, but i will slobber all over your cocks if you read. it's good for the brain, give it some stimulation. [ crossposted on ao3 ! ]

Sweat beading off his head, he drowns out the noise of everyone around him. Sapphire eyes fixate on the hoop that towers across the court as he dribbles the ball, sprinting towards another win. On the score post, fifteen seconds are flashing on the clock as the points are nearly neck and neck. Tokyo versus Kyoto, 34 and 32. With just enough time on the clock, Gojo can give his team a few more points to lengthen the gap.

And when he’s determined, he gets a look in his eyes, where his dazzling blue seems to only shine more, the light beaming inside of his pupils as his white eyebrows course into a frown. He blocks out the entire world— the audience, the buzzers, the screeching of shoes against the wooden ground, the opposing team and his own team— just for his own ambitions. He moves untouched, something like a sixth sense telling him when and where to go as the sounds of his dribbles only get louder. His force caused the ball to hit the ground harder and harder.

Gojo Satoru held such a high power in the world of basketball, a force to be reckoned with, and seemingly going untouchable. When in this state of mind, it told everyone to back off as he made himself into a brick wall, hogging the ball for himself and forcing his opponents to create a path towards the basketball hoop. Those who dared to approach him in such a state risked injuries that the referee couldn’t save them from, they’ve learned their lesson nth many times. So, instead of approaching the beast head on, they waited for possible failure.

Ten seconds on the clock. Like tradition, the crowd began to count down. Their voices were so loud that passersby could hear their chanting as they stomped on the bleachers. They got louder with every descending number. Ten . . . Nine . . . Eight . . .

The ball was now in the air, flying right inside of the hoop before the crowd could cry out “Seven!” His pink lips contorted to a smirk as the opposing team reached for the ball and ran in the opposite direction in hopes to make a comeback with the little time remaining. However, it was no use. It seemed as though time had quickened in favor of Gojo. FourThreeTwo… The obnoxious blaring of the alarm sounding and the game is over.

Gojo’s chest comes to a steady rise and fall, but he’s not exhausted as much as the other men are. No, he still feels enough energy to keep on going. Turning his back to the court, he goes to the bench as his coach gives him a curt nod. “Excellent job, as always.”

The only man viable for his respect, Gojo bows his head in acknowledgement as the older man throws him his water bottle. Catching it with ease, he throws his head back as he squeezes the content in his mouth. His skin glistening from the sweat as flashes hurdle his way, a crowd starting to form around him. The camera shutters seem to get more silent when they surround him, capturing Gojo’s figure, his black jersey hanging outside of his baggy shorts, an inch past the elastic hem. No undershirt underneath it as his muscle and bicep seem more prominent tonight. Leaning his weight on one leg, the cameras perfectly capture the vein on his right calf. On his knees, mismatched knee sleeves. One black and another a deep and dark red to match the accent colors in his team uniform. And his shoes, blue— his signature color.

The professional athlete is expecting the typical post-game questions— How do you feel after another win? What’s your secret for staying on top for this long? Do you ever believe that you’re going to fall back down to the bottom? He has all the typical answers, short cut and dry as he keeps that habitual smirk that he’s gained so much compliments for. Beauty and brawns— a multifaceted man, he calls himself, as well as the press.

However, the questions he anticipates are replaced with different ones, catching him off guard.

“Gojo,” a female reporter calls out, auburn hair stopping mid back. “What do you think about the things said about you by the Career-Ender?”

“Yeah!” An older man shouts out, a buzz-cut with patchy spots. “They say that in a matter of a year or so, your basketball career is bound to fall apart. What do you have to say about that?”

“Is it true that you pushed them out the way after they were just asking for help?” Accusations being thrown at him left and right, questions that he didn’t have the immediate answers to. He was being thrown into a whirlwind that he didn’t have sly remarks to make. Furrowing his eyebrows, he shook his head as he had to think of something quick and make his way towards the locker room. A light bulb flashes in his mind, remembering the name the first reporter stated.

“Career-Ender?” he scoffs. “If anything, I’ll be the one making sure they don’t have a job after this—” he chuckles as the mics are shoved in his direction. Propping his hands on his hips, he takes a breath to collect his thoughts. “— Listen, all those presumptions in that article were false. We’ve seen it time and time again, people with no time in their lives fabricating stories in hopes to tarnish successful people’s careers. This is one of those times. I suggest that the Career-Ender find another line of business to work in and possibly some therapy to help seal whatever hole is inside their heart. My team and I just garnered another win under our belt, let’s talk about that instead.”

Gojo never had any intentions of looking into what the paparazzi was referring to. He chalked it all up to this new day and age of performative activism through the use of cancel culture. How social media liked to heighten situations that at the end of the day, will all end up being nothing. He did what he did best, at first, ignoring the comments and snide remarks he started getting early on.

However, people started coming out with stories and recalling negative encounters that they had with the basketball player. Each story detailing his nasty personality and actions that started alarming his manager, Higuruma Hiromi, and PR Team, requesting him to meet them to talk about the potential results that could happen. Gojo made sure to hire a team that could tackle anything, that could keep him out of situations like this. So, part of him was shocked that Higuruma actually wanted to call a meeting over this… this— this petty deal.

Calls and buzzing of his phone become exhausting that curiosity eats him and he’s clicking on the link that started this all.

─────

GOJO SATORU, MOST TALENTED BASKETBALL PLAYER OF THIS GENERATION, SOON TO SUCCUMB TO HIS ATTITUDE AND BAD BEHAVIOR

By Your Name | March __, 2025 | 12:00 PM

Gojo Satoru, a twenty-nine year old basketball player, has certainly made a name for himself in the past ten years. From his outstanding athletic performance as a college freshman attending Tokyo University to being drafted to the basketball team, Tokyo Jujutsu, he’s certainly proved time and time again that he’s the next biggest thing. No one can lie about his achievements and the potential that he holds and has yet to unlock. He has so much potential within himself, yet… I can only see it coming into a downward spiral. Why? All because of that nasty attitude of his.

On countless of times and occasions, the popular and professional athlete has shown his true colors on camera. Earlier in his career, plenty of reporters and spectators had believed his conceited personality would call for an early retirement, but by some greater God, here Gojo Satoru still stands on his mighty horse, thinking he can continue going on his selfish rampage and continue to reap the benefits that society has offered him with open arms. And I have come to ask when will we stop turning a blind eye to the ruthless and abhorrent behavior that men continue to display? When will we stop excusing their disgusting acts because of the power that they hold and do what needs to be done— nip their career right in the bud.

Read More . . .

─────

Gojo scoffs by the end of it all. Pages upon pages of what seems to be a butthurt journalist who didn't get the attention they were hoping for. Why were a few negative encounters causing such an uproar? However, in the tabs linking to “Articles Like This” list a row of newsletters all revolving around Gojo and his apparent “Worst Moments.” Ultimately falling into a rabbit hole of reading people's opinions about him and watching videos relaying just how much of a nasty and unlikeable person he is.

For the first time in years, he feels his stomach tighten at what’s being said about him. How people have found him so appalling and their alleged experiences about him, he can’t recall any of those said events. However, he usually has the habit of forgetting things that don’t matter to him. It’s the reason why his days seem to be blurred and conjuncted together. However, that quick second of his heart being ripped to shreds dissipates as he tells himself not to care about. In a few months time, he’ll win for his team and once again, be the apple of the people’s eyes.

But, for the time being, your name rings aloud in his mind. Something, no— someone— worth remembering.

─────

Gojo can’t remember the last time he has ever been nervous for a game. Honing in his skills and talent, he feels like he’s near perfected becoming the best basketball player this generation has ever seen. However, in the locker room as his teammates pile out in a jumbled line, his feet tap against the tiled floor as he tries his best not to reveal his nerves. Across his social media accounts, the numbers and views are dwindling down as people keep to their promise of cutting ties to their now ex-favorite basketball player. Articles upon articles revealing things that he’s done.

On top of that, Higuruma and his PR Team truthfully believed that he needed to take a break and step outside of the limelight for a while. They said that they needed him to reflect on his character and consider partaking in selfless acts to start painting a better picture for himself. It further struck a nerve because they didn’t need to outright say it. They believed the articles and the stories being reported about him. They, too, believe that he isn’t a good person. And in a matter of seconds, those nerves turn into rage and the hand towel that he’s been holding onto is being thrown across the room. White eyebrows knitting together in anger and cerulean eyes darkening, his footsteps sound through the small area before heading towards the stands and the courts, where people were still cheering for him and calling out his name. Not some bitch that people dubbed the Career-Ender.

Gojo didn’t partake in his team’s pre-game ritual, didn’t join in for their prayers and chants. No, he stood on the sidelines and waited for the referee to announce the start of the game. People saw it in his eyes— that look. He was all in for this game. He had something to prove in this game.

So, when the ball was in the air, he didn’t give the referee much time to take a step back, jumping up to heights that his opponent couldn’t even fathom touching as Gojo sent the ball hurdling straight to the ground with a loud bounce that called for silence inside the arena. Gasps echoed as everything fell silent, eyes glued onto the tall figure, the beast that is, Gojo Satoru.

Starting off strong from the jump, everyone can feel the hunger and presence of him. The first half of the game, he's a dominant force, scoring majority, if not all, the points and leading such a seering start that people believe the opposing team could never catch up to. When halftime is called, he casts an invisible force field around himself that people wouldn't dare to intrude on. However, his coach had never been just people. The man had wedged his way deep inside the young boy, being the father figure that he never had and always needed.

“Son…” the superior sighs, meeting Gojo in his eyes. “I understand that things have been rough for you lately. The things that people are saying about you are enough to rile anyone up, but you have nothing to prove. You've already done that by making it this far. Now, Satoru, you need to take a breather. I'm going to bench you until you get yourself under control.”

“No!” Gojo shouts, pushing the man he had always admired, using more force than intended. It all happens in slow motion, Gojo sending his coach to the ground and everyone watching. Eyes widening as people come to crowd him, but the coach shakes his head, bringing himself to stand up, with a limp, however. He catches his breath before sending Gojo a stern and hardened limp.

“You can get back on the court,” he sighs. “But you better get your shit together before you fall right into their hands.”

And the coach doesn't need to elaborate for Gojo to know exactly who he's talking about─ you. For once, Gojo feels a sense of normalcy running back into him. His body relaxes, but that heat still runs in his body. Instead of using your name as a crutch, haunting him, it now fuels his fire.

When the timer runs out and players are being switched in and out, Gojo goes to his position. Ball thrown in the air, again, he sends it searing back to the ground and his team’s possession. That same hunger and fire running through him as he dashes across the court and leading his team to victory. A one-man show, overworking his body over the years, he does it without question. Unknowingly, his body is deteriorating at this moment.

He's moving slower and that barrier he's built is slowly falling apart. His opponents are catching up to him, and for a first, he notices them. They're meeting his steps with ease, gaining up on him and threatening to overpower him. It only hardens Gojo as he’s determined to hold himself together. Intaking a harsh breath, he dribbles faster and forces himself forward.

In no time, the fifteen second mark is trusted upon everyone. Tokyo led with 75 points and the opposition with 15. The gap is large, but not large enough. One, no! Two more shots! he thinks to himself. I can do it!

Within the first five seconds, he's able to make another three pointer. However, his head becomes too big when he aims to get his team to 80. He's never felt the same exhaustion that his team has, building so much endurance, that despite sweat beading his forehead, he always felt that he had the energy for more.

But, his vision is getting dark and grainy. His calves are stiff and he feels like if he took one more step, he's going to fall. With every trial he's faced in his life, he was always able to power through, but when will he realize that this isn't a trial nor is it an obstacle that the universe has thrown at him. It's a warning that he's choosing to ignore.

The crowd is counting down and Gojo was never one to disappoint. Already halfway across the court, he aims for another three-pointer when an opponent obstructs his path, colliding into him and making the taller individual lose his footing. A twist, so subtle but not much longer when Gojo lets out a strangled cry and a loud thud sends the crowd silent after their sudden intake of breath. Medics coming out to remove him from the court, the entire arena watches in horror while the athlete watches them in pain and trepidation. With so much running inside his mind, one thing stands prominent. You, your name tied down to that damn article.

This entire time he had been trying not to let your words eat him alive, but he's afraid that he's fallen right into your trap. He's afraid that this entire time, you had been right.

He was the reason for his own undoing.

─────

You don’t think you intended for the nickname, Career-Ender, to ever be bestowed upon you. You don’t think you ever intended to be the type of journalist that people feared or felt intimidated by. You wanted an image that truly reflected who you were. You wanted people to see— to read— how passionate you were about sports and to read the love you invoke in your words. However, one drunken night led to another, where you poured your heart out into venting out your feelings about a baseball player and how distraught over your first encounter with him on social media that one thing turned into another and people took it upon themselves to put the man on the sidelines.

You truly didn’t mean for your reputation to be someone who took pleasure into ending talented people’s careers, but after that first instance, where people shared their negative experiences with the professional baseball player to the point he was put on trial for domestic violence accusations, you found power in your drunken rage.

Earning a significant following and continuing to write the articles that you intentionally sought to publish, you garnered the title of a well-endowed journalist as people started to see your potential. Your boss, while first enraged with your actions, had opened up the doors to more opportunities and endeavors for you, seeing how people saw you as the pinnacle of sports. People trusted your word when you said a young athlete had the potential to make it big; people trusted you when you called into question the attire for female volleyball players; but, most of all, they trusted your word when you didn’t like an athlete.

You didn’t put your notorious nickname into action often. Truthfully, the title was thrusted upon you the moment your drunken rant had disproportionately blown up, and you’ve never written another article showing distaste for another athlete again. There were a bunch of rude and cocky athletes. If you nitpicked at every little thing, it would question your credibility.

However, you had purpose in your critiques. A fluster of emotions sitting on your chest about it, you had every intention of posting it when you did. Though you didn’t take pride in the nickname that people coined you for, it has its perks as it calls for people’s attention.

With your admiration and love for basketball, you oftentime spent time and energy in keeping up in the scene. Attending basketball games and when you couldn’t be at every one of them, you had them saved up on any device that you had on you. Your eyes beamed watching the athletes play at their best (or their worst), it sent blood pumping down your spine as everything was happening before your eyes. However, you hate the fact that you have to say that all of your most prominent negative run-ins were from the Tokyo team. Moreso specifically, from Gojo Satoru.

You chalked up the first one to exhaustion and running on short time; you considered the rather harsh shove to be an accident— the bad press ruining it for the few good eggs out there; and you tried to excuse each and every moment for something that it wasn’t. However, you couldn’t excuse what he said. “How does it feel to know that you’re writing for a sports column because your life could never amount up to mine?”

It took that comment to make you realize that he was just a horrible human being, a self-proclaimed prodigy despite never showing any true potential until his late teens. It took you a while to realize that the man just had too much of an ego on him. You figured that at some point in time that people would come to that revelation that while he had the talent, his nastiness would unravel in his own career. He just needed a push.

(And you needed something groundbreaking.)

However, you didn’t expect your nudge would lead him to an embarrassing fall as news articles come out revealing how much he’s been overworking himself. You just needed something to call for attention, and for something that would make your boss believe that you still had that edge in you. With significant time passing from your initial post about aforementioned baseball players, your boss believed your potential was running thin, egging you to steer back into the path of career-ending blog posts. Falling into the bait, all your intentions of posting that article had been for selfish ones, but never had you been a liar.

Just as quick as people were able to call Gojo a dying flame, they were just as quick to put the blame on you for his downfall. Noting that this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t fabricated such lies to tarnish his name. People pulling up old clips to note your supposed harsh encounters with Gojo Satoru, and calling out each and every one of your “lies.” Just as you had tried tarnishing his name, people were now trying to ruin yours, and calling for Gojo Satoru back on the court, praying for a speedy recovery.

And with shoulders slumped as you hold a cardboard box with your most prized possessions inside.

“Your name has led this company under a lot of backfire for what you’ve been releasing,” your boss’s eyes holding no remorse as he sends you on your way. “I’m sorry, but we’ve got to let you go.”

With a heavy sigh, you can only call this your karma.

─────

After contemplating for a week, Gojo finally pulls out his phone and dials Higuruma’s number. It only takes his phone two rings before he hears the deep and gravelly voice of his manager answering his call, “Hello?”

“I’ll take the position,” Gojo’s straightforward, his voice trembling as he’s accepted the conditions that his team has given him. After being bedridden in the hospital, doctors telling him that his body was shutting down due to years of being overworked and his body succumbing to his self-inflicted suffering, it gave him time to reflect. Racking through his mind, he remembers some of the occasions that people spoke ill about him. It made him realize that you were right and instead of the rage that he underwent, he should’ve been doing self reflection.

“Huh?” his disoriented manager hums in confusion. Gojo sighs, rolling his eyes as he throws open his front door. The doctors had told him to take it easy, to not work out and just… rest. However, would a quick jog kill him? With his smart watch on his wrist as he steadies to speed walking before finding a gate to lean against.

“That coach position at that basketball camp,” he further clarifies. “You’re… right. It’ll do a lot of good for me.”

Maybe I’ll actually become the role model that I thought I was. There’s a pause, where Gojo believes that the call has disconnected. However, when he taps on the watch screen, his manager’s name still blares brightly. “Uh, hello?”

“Sorry, no, I heard you,” Higuruma collects himself. “Truthfully, I didn’t expect you to accept so quickly—” his coach chuckles in between “— I thought you’d need more convincing.”

Am I really such a stubborn ass? Gojo didn’t realize that he had voiced his thoughts out loud, shocked when his manager responded bluntly, “Yes.”

A vein starts protruding his temple, eyebrows knitting together in momentary annoyance. However, he catches himself before he could flip. Inhaling and exhaling as those self help articles and apps have been instructing him to do, closing his eyes as he calms himself gradually. Instead of anger, a dry laugh falls from his lips. “Just send me the details— please.”

─────

You were a coach when you weren’t a journalist. Something that you did per diem when things were slow at the office, but now that you had been fired and no other company seemed to want you after your tremendous fall, you had to take up more hours to pay the bills while you considered the possibilities of how you could fill the void in your journalist heart.

Tik Tok was oversaturated with opinionated people, but would they accept one more person? Did you have anything to offer on the ex-dancing app?

You heard your name being called, another one of the coaches, but the head of the camp within itself, Masamichi. “Yo, I need to speak to you for a second.”

Nodding, you call for your aspiring basketball players to take a ten minute break as you step to the side. Masamichi sighs as his hands prop on his hips, his head hanging low as he glances towards you. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m toying with you. Please understand that.”

“What’re you on about now?” You furrow your eyebrows, a little snort of air leaving your nose as you try to stay lighthearted. However, with the seriousness of his voice, you know that whatever he’s going to tell you won’t be anything to laugh about.

“We’re getting a new coach this Friday,” Masamichi says, bouncing on his heels. Your eyes beam, trying to understand why exactly this would hold any detriment towards you. A new coach was always a good thing in your eyes.

Seeing that flicker of light in your eyes, Masamichi inwardly grimaces when he adds, “it’s going to be Gojo Satoru.”

Oh. “Apparently it’s to help clear his name. At first, when Higuruma called me and proposed the idea, we both thought it would be an ordeal where he would completely decline. However, Higuruma called back and said that he actually accepted the offer. After a week, mind you, but—”

“It’s fine,” you interject Masamichi’s ramble. “It’s fine. It’s fine.”

You think you’re trying to convince yourself that more than you are him. He knows it, too. Grabbing a hold of your upper arm, the older man looks you in your eyes. “Listen—” When his voice deepens, you know he’s taking on that role of a father figure. “—If he gives you a hard time, let me know. You’re an asset here. You work well with the kids and I’ve seen so much improvement ever since you joined us full time.”

Masamichi knows you well. Really well that he knows that you use humor to deflect how you’re truly feeling. “He won’t be a bother. I’m the career-ender after all.”

The hefty sigh that falls from your lips accompanied by the awkward and shifty laughter lets the older individual beg to differ. However, he knows that if he pushes any further, you’d only get snappy with him, so he puts you to the challenge. “If he makes you break, I’m giving him your trainees.”

You gasp, “For him to tarnish? That’s under your jurisdiction.”

“Then, do what you do best. I’m counting on you.”

─────

Gojo really did have all intentions of bettering himself. To leave his selfishness and conceit in the past. He always thought he worked well with adolescents, believing that despite still having so much to learn, he could also help them unlock what makes them so different from the rest. However, the moment Masamichi told him that he would be working alongside you, playing the role as your assistant coach, the sound of your name made his blood boil and the sight of you making his eye twitch.

Rummaging through his mind, he remembers your face. He understands why exactly you would react the way you did. He had no reason to treat you so woefully, but you were the one that seemed to nudge his domino pieces before fate had called it. When you greeted yourself, you tried to exude someone who was kind hearted and sweet, but Gojo wanted to unravel you the same way you did him. Also, what did you know about basketball and how to teach kids?

Inhale and exhale, Satoru, he reminds himself as he watches you instruct the students to take laps up and down the steps. You seemed so comfortable and in your element— more comfortable than him— and Gojo wanted to rile you up. It began with snide comments, statements that blatantly showed his resentment towards you. “I don’t know, guys. Your coach has been someone to end careers, why’d you want to listen to them?”

It made you tick the way he was evidently trying to get a rise out of you, but fortunately, your students spoke up for you before you could defend yourself. “We listen to Coach ___ because they help shape us into good people as well as good players. You’ll only teach us how to eat the court the same way you did.”

That snide remark made his ears turn red, quickly nipping that tactic in the bud. Instead, he became smarter, but in your eyes, pettier. Small pranks that were initially a nuisance— replacing your sugar with salt, water buckets over the door, and glitter bombs that went off at the right times. Small things that would momentarily get you annoyed, but ultimately have you moving on with your day. You played a big game online, but in reality, you were a measly ant along with the rest of the herd.

Masamichi tried saving you when he could, but you always batted off his attempts. You could handle a man-child. However, everyone had their line and Gojo found out where to cut it. He had heard that you didn’t like bananas, and completely detested them. Every time that Masamichi went out for a run, you’d always ask for a smoothie, but always put the emphasis on no bananas. He saw the perfect opportunity to fuck with you.

Your typical order that he had managed to memorize with the amount of times you recited it, but just with the addition of bananas. He learned that the drink was actually a simple Strawberry Banana smoothie, just with a few other unnecessary ingredients. He held the liquid delicacy as he walked into the building. Your vehicle parked out front notifying him that you were on work grounds today, early like you habitually are. He had the drink in a paper cup warmer to have a barrier from the condensation on it, and he had the worker write your name on the cup instead of his. He had added his own personal touch to it, writing ‘Just because’ on the side without actually letting you know it was from him. And when you weren’t looking, he set it down alongside your things and went about his day.

─────

“Ooh,” you hummed, spotting the drink on the counter next to your backpack. Picking it up, you read the sides. In a low voice, you repeated, “‘Just because…’”

Deducing it down to Masamichi, you pull open the fridge to slide the fruity beverage towards the back before stuffing your lunchbag right in front of it. While this wasn’t your journaling career, where your food and drinks have been stolen a bunch of times, you still had to be about your belongings just in case of the off chance. That off chance being Gojo.

You can only hope that he doesn’t make your day too difficult as you head around back. With the schedule changing biweekly and the forecast calling for an all-sunny week, your team will be instructed to use the outside court all week unless the weather decides otherwise. Adorned in a simple white t-shirt over your sports bra, you had it tied in the back as you had on sports pants. The sun was beating down on you. It didn’t even take five minutes for you to pull out your baseball cap and shove it on your head. A tall shadow started to overcast you and with one quick glance back, it’s the white-headed devil himself. Trying to keep it cordial as much as you could, you gave him your typical greeting for everyone, even a stranger. “G’morning.”

“Morning,” he yawns, crossing his arms. “Everything going swell so far?”

Quirking up an eyebrow, you give him a knowing look. “Swell? That’s been your weakest alarm so far. What is it so far? Distracting me before I realize that you’ve miraculously got the children to take your side and they’re going to start throwing water balloons at me? No—” you purse your lips, a finger on your chin. “—You’re not actually that smart.”

“No,” he scoffs. The kids still don’t like him enough to side with him. “I was genuinely checking up on you. I see my attempt has failed.”

“Like your career,” you remark.

“Because of you.”

“Because of your abhorrent attitude and personality.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten hurt if it wasn’t for you.”

“Do you ever accept accountability for your own actions?”

“Do you?”

The gravel under your shoes sounds as you turn to face him. You want to shout at him, to continue to throw insults at him. However, as you look up at the bastard. You let out a deep sigh, and your tough act falls. “I didn’t mean for you to really take my words to heart. I just—”

Gojo scoffs. “Like I’d believe that. You seemed to really love your little nickname a few seconds ago.”

“Only because you pushed me to—” You take another second. “Can’t you just make this easy for me?”

“No.”

“God, you’re so immature,” you breathe, before inevitably continuing, “I’m being honest, I really am. My boss— My old boss, he was hounding me that I lost my spark, and while I meant every word I said in that article, I didn’t actually think you would take it to heart.”

“What?” Gojo snorts, despite taking in your apology for what it's worth. He can hear the sincerity in your voice. “Think that all professional athletes are conceited and heartless?”

“No,” you scoff. “Just thought you were someone more thick-skinned. Didn’t really see the fragile little boy that you still are.”

You didn’t mean for it to sound the way it did. In fact, you didn’t mean to say it at all. Your eyes widen as realization strikes you, “Wait, I didn’t mean it—”

“No, you’re right,” he says uncharacteristically calmly. “You’re right. I’m still that fragile little boy, but you still amount to nothing, coaching a bunch of kids who might not ever truly make it. And if they do, they’ll still be leaving you in the dust, where you still amount to nothing.”

And it cuts this time as well, but at least you can convince yourself that you deserved it.

─────

“I don’t know why I said it,” you sigh, slouching across the booth seat from Masamichi, still reflecting on what you told Gojo and ultimately what he told you. With the smoothie in hand, you swirl the straw around as you mix the large ice chunks with the rest of it. “I didn’t really mean how I said it. I was just trying to say that I understand him— where he’s coming from. It just didn’t come across how I wanted it to.”

“Yeah,” Masamichi hums. “You always struggled with finding the right words to say. Somehow, your journalism career lasted longer than I anticipated.”

You playfully kick at his shin, gaining no reaction from the man as the two of you chuckle. “I deserve it, though. What he said.”

“Mmm,” the older man shakes his. “That’s a reach. I understand where you're coming from and his reasoning too, but at the end of the day, he accepted his position to help learn how to manage situations like this and to build a more kind soul. He needs to build tougher skin and learn how to react under weighty circumstances like this.”

“Yeah, but still—” You reach for the smoothie at last, taking a sip from the straw.

“‘Yeah, but still’ nothing,” Masamichi points at you. “You didn’t deserve it. End of the story.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “By the way, thanks for the smoothie. You didn’t have to, because now I feel like I have to pay you—”

“I didn’t buy you the smoothie.” You didn’t have the time to process what he was saying, feeling like your throat was clogging up and like you couldn’t breathe. Hives started covering your arms as you started to drown out every sound, including the panicked shouted of Masamichi as soon as he saw your skin.

“Shit,” he cursed, calling out your name and reaching for your bag. “Your epipen, where is it?”

He was trying to act fast, dumping out all of your stuff, but to no avail, he couldn’t find the device. Hearing the commotion, people that were passing by peaked in to see what was happening. “Masamichi, what’s—”

“Call the ambulance!” he shouts. “Fuck!”

─────

“Gojo!” he hears his name being called from across the court. A coworker he doesn’t know the name of, but from the hurriedness in his steps, Gojo doesn’t have the time or chance to try and remember. “Bring every student inside! It’s an emergency!”

He doesn’t have to rush in the kids himself, they do it without any further instruction as everyone rushes towards the double doors. Leading the kids inside of the auditorium, they’re all instructed as everyone’s updated about what has happened. (Your Name) had an allergic reaction to her smoothie. Masamichi had to call the ambulance.

Eyes widening as Gojo puts the puzzle pieces together. It was because of him. The sound of ambulance sirens bring him back to reality as Gojo curses under his breath. “Shit!”

He doesn’t think before acting, running in the direction of where people were saying she was, pushing open the doors to the lounge to see you on the ground and Masamichi hovering over her.

“I’m so sorry!” he immediately comes to apologize, not giving his boss a moment to hurry him out of the room. “I didn’t realize that she was allergic to bananas. I did it as an innocent prank! I didn’t know!”

“You what?” Forgetting about you on the ground, Masamichi comes to stand over your body and heads straight towards Gojo. “You fucking idiot! Are you aware that they could die because of your idiocy?”

Gojo’s done a lot of stupid things in his life, but he’s never felt the guilt the way that this act has him feeling right now. He nods, unable to choke out a yes as his eyes divert from Masamichi’s eyes. “I’m so sorry…”

“You better hope and pray that she lives through this, boy, because if she doesn’t—”

The EMTs burst through the doors just in time, asking where the victim lies as Masamichi diverts his attention back to you. Helping the men get you on the gurney as they treat you for your anaphylactic shock and getting your vitals back on track before leading you towards the big vehicle. Masamichi doesn’t bat an eye back in Gojo’s direction, and Gojo had not managed to make himself useful as he watched the entire act go down. In too much of a shock, realizing how once again, his selfishness and rage took over that he nearly killed someone because of it. The tears streaming down his eyes have now dried up and the ongoing looks from his coworkers don’t make him feel any better.

Again, his feet do the thinking as he heads straight outside and to his vehicle. He’s abandoning the kids, yes, but there are more capable adults inside the camp to know how to look over them. He knows that after this life-threatening ordeal, he’ll no longer be accepted back.

He also knows that Masamichi will probably beat him down for even trying to attempt visiting you, but he’ll take his chances.

─────

Masamichi had forced you to take two weeks of PTO the moment you had been discharged from the hospital. Establishing himself as your second father figure, he didn’t give you much choice in the matter the moment you immediately tried returning back to the camp. You don’t remember much about the incident, except the fact that one moment you were thanking him for the drink and the next, you weren’t able to breathe.

When you tried to ask for more details from Masamichi and the doctors, they could only tell you what you already knew— your allergic reaction to bananas nearly caused your death. It was evident that the doctors didn’t know the entire story as well and that Masamichi wasn’t telling you something. He chalked it all up to an accident, saying that he forgot to tell the worker to exclude the bananas. However, you could tell something was missing.

Was it really just a foolish mistake or was he keeping something out? You know that it was pointless to go back to the camp. Halfway into the first week of your break, you know Masamichi will do what he did to you the first time you pulled this stunt— drag you right back outside and to your car. But would a little visit hurt anybody?

Dressed in comfortable clothing, you wear a spaghetti-strapped top and a pair of sweats. With the sun beating down on you, a bead of sweat already threatens to drip down the temple of your forehead. You speed walk to the double doors, swinging them open to be met with the silence of the hallways. Checking the time, all the students should be on the court training right now. In the distance, you can hear the faint sound of balls bouncing and dribbling down the court.

There’s something restricting about the air when you walk down the hallway. Tension lingering from all corners of the building. Usually, there are more people sauntering around on the outside, filling out papers and documents and running quick errands. But, it’s empty. Turning a corner, you’re finally greeted by someone, Yuuji, one of the high school volunteers looking for hours.

“Oh,” he gasps, saying your name. “You’re not supposed to be back until another week or so.”

“Yeah, I’m just visiting,” you chuckle. “Don’t worry. Where’s everyone? Usually, there are more people out and about?”

“Well, we’re a little bit understaffed,” Yuuji squirms, rubbing the back of his neck. “With you on break and Gojo getting fired, Mr. Masamichi thought it was best that every adult got more involved until you’re back.”

“Gojo’s fired?” you furrow your eyebrows. “Why? What happened—” Before Yuuji could say anything more, you snorted. “— Don’t tell me that he pulled a prank on Masamichi instead of me?”

“N-no,” Yuuji stammers. “He, uh— Um… Actually, I think I gotta go. Megumi’s probably wondering where I am right now. I gotta head back.”

It’s evident that the boy’s hiding something, trying to fabricate a lie to get himself out of the situation. Before he could dash off, you grab him by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks. You can see him wince, knowing that he has no way to get out of the conundrum he put himself into now. You give him a look, it’s not stern, but a soft and concerned look. A look that has Yuuji melting before you can even ask him to tell you the truth. “Masamichi’s going to kill me, but—”

When the bell rings, you make a bee line straight for Masamichi. It’s lunch time, meaning that he’s heading straight for the cafeteria with his students in line. Yuuji’s long run off to find Megumi, heading in the opposite direction of you. When you spot him, his back is turned to you as he guides the students inside, barking at two trouble makers who refuse to follow orders the first time. “Get in line! Don’t make me say it again!”

You don’t notify him of your presence until his entire class is inside the cafeteria before you’re blurting out. “Why didn’t you tell me that it was Gojo?”

Shoulders stiffening, Masamichi’s head swivels to see you shocked. Trying to deflect from your question, his gaze immediately turns stern as he points a finger at you. “I told you not to come back until your break’s over.”

“Answer my question,” you frown. “Why did you lie to me?”

He sighs, knowing that he can’t run from this discussion with you. After all, you had a right to know. “Let’s speak about this somewhere more private.”

He leads you inside of a vacant classroom, gesturing you to sit down at any of the available desks as he leans against one himself. He sighs, holding his head down. “Apparently it was supposed to be a prank. Heard you talking one day and thought it would be funny to give you a drink with bananas.”

You tut out a breath of air, keeping your head down as you digest the information. “He had the audacity to try and visit you in the hospital. They had to rip me off before I could do any proper damage to the boy. Tried sending flowers after that, but I threw them all away.”

“But, didn’t you think I had a right to know that he tried to kill me?”

“Yes, but—” Masamichi knew that he didn’t have a good enough reason. That his choices were all fueled by anger. “His people offered payment. Enough to cover your medical bills and enough to say that he’s sorry.”

“So, they’re giving me hush money basically,” you scoffed.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but if you want his manager’s number, I’ll forward it to you and hopefully, you can find some equal grounds to agree on.”

“I wish you told me this from the jump,” you say.

“And I’m sorry for not,” Masamichi confesses. “I thought I was doing it to protect you at first, but I was just angry that he took it this far.”

“I’m just a fool for thinking that you’d buy me a smoothie so early in the morning,” you try to laugh it off, but Masamichi keeps those same frown lines on his face.

“I’m a fool for even allowing him to work here,” he sighs. Before you can say anything about the comment, Masamichi stands to his feet and grips you by the shoulder. “Time to send you back on your way. I’ll forward you the number to his manager and hopefully after that, you’ll get some peace back into your life.”

“I really just came to visit, you know,” you sigh. “Let me stay a little longer. I miss the kids.”

“They’re not going anywhere,” he says. Nudging him, you let Masamichi lead you right back out to your car. When you’re driving home and waiting at a red light, your phone buzzes and you receive a message from him— Gojo’s Manager (Higuruma Hiromi): xxx-xxx-xxxx.

─────

You and Higuruma come to an agreement that you’ll take the hush money— which he claims isn’t— if you can meet with Gojo himself. However, the only way you can meet Gojo is through you signing a nondisclosure agreement about the entire ordeal. You reluctantly agree because you really want some closure, and you had no intentions of going to the police about it. After the entire situation, you’re just tired and want this all to just go away. The authorities would only add to your stress and that might kill you quicker than your allergic reaction.

Higuruma sets up for the two of you to meet at a hotel, booking a room for the two of you to speak in private— accompanied by the manager himself, as well. It’s an extravagant and luxurious place with architecture that made you believe that you had actually stepped inside of a museum. You beam in awe, but it’s all cut short when a man approaches you, and calls your name. “That’s you, correct?”

You nod. “Yes, you’re Higuruma, right?”

“Yes,” he answers. You didn’t know what to expect of the man, thinking he’d be some older man— bald— and not a man with sunken brown eyes and stringy dark hair. His eyes clearly reflect how he always sounded on the phone, exhausted, as he instructs you to follow him. The two of you walk side by side in silence before he’s clicking the ‘up’ button to the elevator and leading the way.

The room he’s booked is gorgeous, closely resembling a home within itself as you’re immediately greeted to a family and dining area. Vintage-style couches and rugs with intricate patterns on it. It’s gorgeous. “I will let Gojo know that you’re here,” Higuruma gestures towards the dining area. “Take a seat and I’ll be back in a second.”

It takes five minutes of you admiring the centerpiece before you hear the shuffling of feet and the creak of a door opening. Craning your neck around, you watch as a disheveled Gojo leaves the confines of the hotel bedroom to pull out a chair across from you, never once meeting you in the eye. He looks like a mess, white hair worse than it usually is, sapphire eyes that look lost as purple eyebags hang, and he looks like Higuruma just had to drag him out of bed, wearing a charcoal gray t-shirt that’s all crushed up and stained black sweats. When he slouches in his seat, his voice is more gravelly than you’re used to. “You can leave, Higuruma.”

“You know I can’t do that—”

“You can leave!”

He doesn’t have to say it again for a third time. Higuruma’s eyes flash from Gojo to you before heading towards the door, leaving the hotel room altogether. However, both you and Gojo know that the man still awaits right outside the door. When an uncomfortable amount of silence has passed, Gojo’s surprisingly the first to speak. “Go ahead. Yell and me, and tell me how much of a horrible person I am.”

“I—”

“I deserve it,” he whispers. “I— I’m a shitty excuse of a person.”

“I just—” You catch yourself. When you called Higuruma and asked to meet with Gojo, you never really had a plan or prepared anything for what you were going to say. You never did know why you wanted to speak to him. You just needed to see him, see how he was holding up. When Masamichi told you the truth, it was hard to digest and at first, you were in denial. However, when you got home, you were furious. You cried out your anger, you screamed out your anger, and you ripped out your anger. However, you could never really voice it out in actual words. But a vice inside of you just calmly told you to vent. Vent like you did the first time and the second time. So, again, you tried.

“I just—” you clenched your fists. “—Did you realize how stupid you were?”

You said it in such a calm and low voice that it made him shudder. He kept his head low, still not wanting to meet his eyes. “Do you realize how dumb and fucking stupid you are? For days at a time, pulling off ridiculous fucking pranks all because you had a personal vendetta against me to the point you nearly killed me!

“At first, I excused it, but you had every right to be angry,” you continued. “ But, I literally could not breathe. All because you thought I didn’t like bananas. You’re so fucking stupid!”

“I know…” he whispers and miraculously you hear him.

“I don’t think you really do,” you sneer. “You ran up and down that court like you owned it, disregarding anything and everyone because you thought you were the best. Treated your own teammates as collateral damage with the excuse of bringing home another win, then wanted to cry like a little bitch because you felt threatened about what I had to say to you.”

You continue to rant out your frustrations, feeling the tension leave your body as tears pool from the corner of your eyes. Never did you realize that Gojo’s finally mustered up the courage to finally look into them. “And you might be right,” your bottom lip quivers. “I might be left in the dust, my life amounting to nothing in the end, but I’m the person who turned you into nothing, so who really has the power, huh?”

You invade his personal space, reaching across the table to point a finger in his chest. He can feel your quick breaths against his face. “It was a shame that I couldn’t watch your soul die on that court first hand. I’d have loved to spit on your grave.”

You’re so close that he can see every speckle on your face, his eyes softening at the flicker of rage that runs rampant through you. He concludes it as a spur of emotions when his lips touch yours, tasting the faint touch of lip gloss against your lips and mint of your toothpaste. He feels the fleeting moment in which you reciprocate the taste of his supple pink tongue against yours before a sting to the face detaches his lips from yours. And he’s met back with that fiery gaze of yours before your eyes falter. “What— fuck—”

This one is more seering, sucking the breath from his lungs as he feels your fingers knot inside of his white locks. The two of you stretching across the piece of furniture, lips locked onto each other’s. His arms reach for your waist with need, pulling you to him and dragging you across the table, nearly sending the two of you flying off the seat. Catching each other’s balance, his grip around your waist tightens as a deep sigh falls from his lips.

He presses you against him hard, making you feel the growing ache of his cock, swelling up from lust as he latches onto you. The palpitating air thickens as he attempts to swallow you whole. He pulls away, chest rising and falling, as his pupils dilate. He breathes, “Tell me how much you hate me.”

Hands wrapping around his neck, your nails dig into his skin. “I fucking hate you. I wish we never crossed paths.”

Fuck, he curses inwardly, pulling back to his lips as his arms begin to wander the course of your body. You’re wearing a simple top and shorts that stop mid-thigh. Fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, his long and slender digits send the cotton material upwards, exposing your bare waist and up to your sports bra. The sage green elastic material hugs onto your chest as he throws your shirt off. You ground your hips to his pelvis, the denim rubbing against his covered cock and eliciting foreign sounds from his lips. And your lips tremble in hurt, eyes getting glossy as you pull away from him. You hold his face, caressing it and forcing him to see how hurt you are. “I could’ve died, Satoru. Do you really realize how fucking stupid you were?”

“I do…” His eyes flicker away from yours before he feels your fingers digging into his skin. “I do… I was so fucking stupid.”

Grinding your hips down, Gojo’s hands fall back to your waist, keeping you grounded there. “You deserve to rot in jail.”

He nods, this time mouthing the two words, I do. He goes to toy with the button of your jeans shorts, undoing it and pulling down the zipper. You grab onto his wrist, stopping him from continuing. “You’re forever indebted to me, y’know that? No amount of money can silence me.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he easily succumbs. “I’ll get on my knees for you.”

“Want to get that in writing?”

“Yes.” Guiding Gojo’s hand into the depths of your shorts and past the band of your underwear, he feels the curls of your pubic hair, playing with the tufts of locks before dipping down further. Your hips rise as you latch back onto his lips and tug down your pants, kicking them off when they pool at your ankles. All the while, Gojo’s hand is still stuck inside your underwear, playing with your clit and sliding his digits down your folds. Arousal pooling from your cunt that he can only imagine tastes sweet. He can only hope that you’ll give him the opportunity to try.

He rolls his thumb against the dark bud as his index and middle finger delve deeper, heart pounding against his chest as his back sinks into the back of the chair. Your slick is sticky, gliding against his digits as he feels your folds, dancing around your entrance. Legs spread as your hips are in the air, your spine shudders as you inhale deeply. Your nails dig into his biceps, certainly marking and bruising his delicate skin as it reddens under your harsh touch. Your hips gyrate and grind against his fingers, hoping for more friction than what he’s allowing you.

Everytime you leave the sweet taste of his mouth, Gojo feels his soul softly crying out as his sapphire eyes twinkle in need for you.

“Gojo,” there’s a dark look in your gaze, eyes hazy with lust that looks so good on you. Hands traveling to knot themselves back into his hair, you tug harshly. “Don’t you want me to feel good?”

Your eyes soften, feigning innocence despite the position you’re both compromised in. Still, Gojo can’t help but fall for the spell you have him under. “Yes, I do.”

You’re close, capturing his bottom lip in between your teeth as you bite down on it, nearly drawing blood before letting go. “Then, stop teasing me. Be good for me, yeah? Or, are you still that pathetic little boy I always knew you were— er, are?”

“I’ll be anything you need me to be,” he breathes.

“Then, fuck me with your fingers,” you say. “Make me feel good.”

Gojo Satoru really is a skilled and talented man whose potential died down with his continuously poor choices. You truly meant it when you said he had so much more to unlock and hone in on with his skill, but his selfishness and greed overpowered him. But, right now, you can only see a selfless man who wants to please. A man who’s finally using those skills and practice and putting them to good use. His lengthy fingers twist and turn inside of you, your arousal dripping out of you like the sweet sap from trees. They drip down between each knuckle, messing up his calloused hands, but he couldn’t care less. However, while you saw selflessness in this moment, he still thinks he’s a selfish boy as he finds himself greedy, needing you like never before.

With every thrust of his fingers, he feels the tips of them touch that spongy spot inside of you. And you make the sweetest of sounds, a noise that’d have sailors out at sea captivated. Your head’s thrown back, hair falling past your shoulders as your back’s arched and accentuating your breasts. He’s got your sports bra pushed up, revealing your round breasts as they gently bounce as you bounce on his digits. His lips have found home in the juncture of your neck, kissing down your jaw and to that sweet spot on your neck, making your juices continue to pour out of you.

He’s still a selfish man, wanting for you to stay like this if he can get the opportunity to forever make amends and have you look this beautiful as he makes you feel good. Your walls would clench around his fingers every once in a while, a quick spasm notifying that he’s succeeding. There’s a soft squelch sounding in the air, the stench of you intermingling as well as Gojo’s pre stains his underwear and probably have long seeped to his sweats. However, there’s more worrying things to stress about.

Your mouth falls open into an ‘O’ as your eyes flutter shut, your heat pulsating in alert as you feel Gojo’s fingers quicken its pace. You hear him curse, fuck, alongside you as your cries are soft. Legs tensing up as his free arm wraps around the expanse of your hips, he holds you still as you feel that coil inside of you snap. “Gojo, fuuuck—”

You paint his fingers in white, walls spasming around him as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. White dripping down to the seat of the chair before you feel an absence and a sting to your clit, a clap sounding through the dining area of the hotel room. You squeal, a high-pitched sound that makes Gojo’s chest rumble. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you nudge him, hearing him chuckle. You silence his moment of amusement with need, your eyes meeting his beautiful ones as they speak all he needs to know, but still you vocalize it.

“I need more, Gojo,” you whine, eyebrows knitting together as you tilt your head to the side. “Y’think I’ll forgive you just for your fingers, hm?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

“Y’think I’ll forgive you if you continue to fuck me against this table?” It didn’t take him long to scoop you up in his arms, displaying his strength with such ease that it takes away your breath. You go to caress his face, softly telling him, “Good boy.”

Bringing you to the private room, he places you on the bed with a gentleness before climbing over you. Like a dog trained to be loyal and obedient, he waits as he admires your beautiful state. Reaching for the straps of your bra, he pulls you out of it and rids you of your soiled panties. He admires your naked state, eyes taking in every curve and blemish that you have. Absent-mindedly, he sighs, “So beautiful…”

“C’mon,” you coax him closer. “Come and fuck me already.”

Gojo realizes that he’s still completely dressed, doing both of you the favor of shedding himself of his shirt, revealing his well refined body. His body seemed to have been carved by the gods themselves, taking extra time to care for him and make sure that he dazzled every man and woman that walks in his path. And when he pulls down his pants, he reveals his defined thighs and calves as his boxer briefs hugs onto his skin, his erection prominent underneath. You can see the wet patch of his pre, making the white fabric translucent as you see the dusty rose color of his tip.

Gojo dips, calling the moment to a close as he presses his weight into you. His pelvis bends to meet your soaked core, still stained with your orgasm. Clothed erection rubbing against your sensitive nub and making your body shudder as Gojo kisses along your neck. His hand dips to tug down the hem of his underwear, making his cock jump out in excitement as he cups his balls and guides his length to your sopping pussy. His reddening tip gets needy as he slides his shaft down your folds, lubricating his length in you before aligning himself to your ready entrance.

Your heart starts racing, feeling just how long he is. You lock eyes with Gojo as you dig your elbows into the bed to meet him for a kiss. Gently, you feel his head nudge open your walls, pressing deep as he enters you. This kiss tastes of longing on Gojo’s behalf, how he inhales you as he pushes inch by inch inside. The warmth of you makes him want to stay like this forever, feeling his balls tighten up as he bottoms out. This kiss is slow as you hear the wetness of your lips against each other as it goes from deep to quick pecks. It’s distracting and confusing you for what this is— a desperate and wrongly executed display of your raw emotions.

No, this is starting to feel like something more. However, you need this. You need to feel this power you have over the man. You need to feel this. So, you take it. Greedy and wanting, the both of you switch places. Though, you fear, you’ve always been a selfish person and Gojo’s starting to unravel that side of you.

Pulling out of you, only leaving the tip in, the next plunge of his cock is purposeful. Gojo wedges himself deep inside of you, bottoming out inside of you as his hips shimmy. You gasp out, back arching as your breasts press into his chest.

“I don’t deserve you,” he breathes, a pathetic sob leaving him as he continues these slow and well-calculated thrusts that force you to feel all of him. Each one spelling out how pathetically sorry he is. “Don’t deserve to be buried deep inside of your cunt.”

Gradually, his thrusts quicken, calling for sweet sobs and mewls to leave your lips. With each drill of his hips, you feel his head kissing that soft spongy spot deep within. Making your toes curl as your legs go to wrap around his waist. Your mind is a fog, but still, you find the will to speak, to say something coherent. “You don’t deserve any part of me. You’re nothing but a greedy piece of shit.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Tell me how much you hate me.”

“I hate you,” you whisper, and again, he says, “Yeah? How much?”

“So much,” you cry. “I hate you so much. So, so much.”

And soon enough, those three words continue to pour from your lips as Gojo fucks into your wheeping pussy. The wetness sounds and echoes through the room alongside your mixed grunts and moans. You grip onto his biceps, marking up his arms even more as he takes in every call of hatred you make to him. And when you feel that familiar quiver to your cunt, you feel the waterworks coming, your eyes pricking with tears as you sob. And with his thumb, Gojo goes to wipe them away with his thumb. He apologizes incessantly, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

This release is different, making your entire body spasm in his hold as you feel your inner thighs become soaked. Your stomach is coiling as your legs tighten even more. He feels your release against your stomach, the translucent liquid splashing against him as he curses low. He feels the twitch of his cock, pulling his length as he goes to rub at your clit, watching how explosive your second orgasm is. He leaks onto your stomach, white dripping from his tip and making a mess of you. His chest rises and falls as body comes to slowly relax when the last of your juices splatter onto him.

Your body’s exhausted, wasting your tears and energy on a man who doesn’t care. “You tried to kill me, Gojo. I don’t— I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive you.”

Satoru believes he’ll be able to live with that.

─────

GOJO SATORU JUST POSTED ON TIK TOK!

Each and every one of Gojo’s videos were fabricated by this management team, never truly putting in effort into using the app himself. However, he finds himself so warped inside of his mind that he feels like he needs to issue a statement out himself. Without his manager or PR Team knowing themselves. Pressing the button to begin recording, he lets out a sigh.

“Hello everyone,” he begins. “Truth be told, I haven’t prepared a speech for what I wanted to say because of the recent course of events. I didn’t think I would ever address this, but I think it’s about time that I do.”

He clears his throat. “I want to start off with that article and all the claims that it states against me,” he begins. “I want to confirm that they’re all true.”

Within the course of ten minutes, Gojo believes that he’s spoken his mind and has given out a genuine apology. Giving him some sense of satisfaction as he ends it with, “And because of all the mistakes and misdeeds that I’ve done, I’m going to end my basketball career with this apology as I hope that the people that I’ve hurt can find some solace in it.

“I’m not expecting nor am I asking for your forgiveness,” he sighs. “Just— I just want to do right by someone that I’ve hurt and work on the path of growth. Thanks and goodbye.”

credits ⋆ thanks to my babe, @satoao, for beta-reading over this work. my favorite gojo lover.

subscriptions. @madwomansapologist @sleepynoons @gojosoups @luvvcho @cailliz @celestialceremonials @emyyy007 @gojosnutgobbler @nariminsstuff @emmaleens333 @scurfi @hoelynecujoh @bbyrugou @serafina-nyx @sorilyae @lovelyjkook @alonahh

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru smut #gojo angst #gojo smut #x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #gojo satoru #tw: (n)sfw

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yanderestarangel · 4 months ago

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♡˚₊‧⁺˖ headcanons arcane — sevika x reader

— tw: soft!dom sevika, fluff, wife sevika, soft sex, praise kink, biting kink, hexstrap, fingering, dirty talk, marriage, mommykink, oral fixation, afab reader, eat out, dp, vibrators, breedkink, smut, anal, sub!reader, no pronouns used.

♡⁠┊Sevika is a caring companion, and even though her behavior is different when she is Silco's henchwoman, she has a soft spot for you and the life you two have built together. It wasn’t easy for her to accept her feelings for you. In the beginning, you two were just friends with benefits, and Sevika only enjoyed the sex you had. She would get bored and think. "At least I don't have to pay for someone else at the brothel." She knew it was a horrible thought and was ashamed of having such a selfish mentality. This would be a secret she would keep forever and take to the grave—she would never hurt you by admitting what she thought before developing feelings.

♡⁠┊ As time went on, she gave in to the feelings that persistently warmed her heart and soul. Your smile was the first thing to make her blush—and she hadn’t even thought that was possible. She had always been so controlled and objective that it genuinely shocked her to feel the overwhelming need to have you by her side 24/7. Soon, the word "passion" echoed through her mind like a haunting melody. She found you more addictive than the nicotine that coursed through the cigarettes she smoked.

♡⁠┊Before long, what started as "friends with benefits" naturally evolved into "lovers."

♡⁠┊There was a Sevika before you and a Sevika after you. She had never been the kind of woman who worried about getting home or keeping track of dates. Her life revolved around late nights in the casino’s accounting department, playing poker, grabbing meals from nearby vendors, and caring little about commitments that didn’t involve Silco.

♡⁠┊But after you came into her life, she started making an effort to be an acceptable girlfriend. At first, the change in routine felt strange to her. The loud music she once thrived on was replaced by soft conversations with you about each other's day, accompanied by chaste smiles. She even found herself helping you in the kitchen—passing ingredients and stealing glances at you, looking so adorably domestic to her. Adorable as hell, she’d think, trying to hide the silly smile that crept onto her lips as you continued chatting about your day while she was at work.

♡⁠┊Everyone noticed how much the "big mama" had changed. She was still the tough, no-nonsense woman everyone knew, but there was a new spark to her—a contentment, as if she were finally 100% happy with herself. She began taking better care of herself, and though she wouldn’t admit it outright, she loved when you noticed the little changes she made. A new hairstyle, a fresh haircut, a different lipstick or gloss, or even a change in the eyeshadow she wore—your compliments made her day. "Do you like it? Thank you... I decided to look prettier for you, baby." she’d say with a soft smile, handing you a bouquet of your favorite roses before pulling you into a tight hug. She’d carry you inside, ready to spend hours talking with you, only for the evening to melt into passionate kisses on the couch.

♡⁠┊Sevika expresses her love through acts of service and heartfelt compliments. She’ll do anything to make you comfortable. Though she never imagined sharing her home with anyone, she started taking better care of the space for your sake. When you can’t handle the household chores, she steps in without hesitation—bringing you breakfast in bed and lingering for a moment to make sure you’re okay—"Let me know if you need anything; I’ll come running." she says protective, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead and giving you one last look before leaving the house. Her presence is felt throughout the streets in her actions and reputation, but no matter where she goes, her mind always drifts back to you.

♡⁠┊The marriage proposal came naturally to Sevika. You two had been living together for a while, and she knew without a doubt that you were her great love. At forty, she had no patience for games anymore—it was all or nothing. You were lying in bed when the moment came. "We've been together for a while, right? How about we make things official? Me, you, a nice wedding..." she began, her words a little hesitant as she reached into the drawer with her mechanical arm, pulling out a beautiful red velvet box. She opened it quickly, revealing two rose gold rings. She had carefully chosen a design that suited both of you, seeking help to find the perfect pair. In the end, the cost didn’t matter—it was worth every penny. "You know I love you more than anything. Will you marry me, angel face?" Sevika finally asked, her voice filled with sincerity as she held the ring engraved with her name and gently slipped it onto your finger. It was a simple proposal, shared in the intimacy of your bedroom on an ordinary weekday. Yet, for Sevika, it became an extraordinary moment—a day that would forever hold a sweet place in her heart, the day you said yes and accepted her as your wife.

♡⁠┊Your wedding was simple, just as Sevika had suggested. Money was tight, so she proposed a civil ceremony at the registry office, followed by a quiet picnic in the park where you could spend the day together. She wore a black suit, sharp yet understated, and happily let you make flower crowns for both of you to wear. Lying with her head resting on your thighs, she spoke softly about your future plans, weaving dreams of the life you’d build together. She promised that once your financial situation improved, she’d throw you a grand ceremony—regardless of whether you told her it wasn’t necessary.

♡⁠┊ "Don’t talk nonsense, sweetie. Just wait until I have some good money, okay? Mama's here will give you everything you deserve. Those weddings for rich people are really expensive." she’d say with determination, her voice firm yet tender. As you played with her hair, she smoked leisurely, her gaze alternating between the sky and you. "Just wait for the money to come in, okay? I promise things will get better for us, one day..." she murmured, exhaling smoke through her nose. Sevika didn’t know exactly when things would change for the better, but she held tightly to hope and faith. Until then, she gave you all the love and support she had, pure and unwavering. For her, it wasn’t about the money—it was about showing you, in every way she could, just how much you meant to her.

♡⁠┊And this romanticism transforms into touches of heat on your honeymoon. Sevika adores you as if you were a deity, laying you down on the bed and kissing every inch of your skin. She gently removes the clothes you wore at the wedding, whispering sweet words that send shivers through both of you: "I've waited so long for this, honey... I love you so much it hurts." She kisses your belly, trailing down to your intimacy, leaving soft kisses over your still-clothed pussy. Pushing aside the already damp fabric, she presses her nose against your clit.

♡⁠┊"I will always adore you. You are my world, my most precious thing in this life..." Her green eyes shine as they meet yours, and she carefully removes your panties, returning to kiss the inside of your thighs. Finally, her full lips meet your cunt, a hoarse grunt escaping her as she closes her eyes, savoring your taste. It doesn’t take long for her to lose herself in you, a comfortable heat blooming within her as you pull her hair and rub your hips against her face. Both of her hands hold you firmly in place while the older woman pushes her tongue into your hole, fucking you slowly and savoring every moment of your essence.

♡⁠┊She would slide two fingers inside you, making you feel every inch as they filled and caressed your spongy walls, drawing you tighter around her touch. "Do you want a third finger, darling? Are you that needy, huh? You're making me so proud... Taking me so well." she whispers with a teasing grin. When she adds a third finger, the sensation is overwhelming—you've never felt so full in your entire life. Her tongue lavishes attention on every inch of your bundle of nerves, her lips and tongue working in harmony to send waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your wife becomes utterly pussy drunk, grunting in excitement as she urges you to give her more of your juices, moaning for you like it’s her greatest pleasure. She doesn’t stop until she makes you squirt, her relentless mouth and fingers ensuring her face is soaked. "Fuck... Holy hell, my angel. You should see your face right now, you know?" she murmurs with satisfaction, wiping some of your wetness from her face with the back of her hand. Her fingers drip with your essence, the sight so erotic it leaves her wet and desperate to make you cum over and over, determined to keep you crying out for her all night long.

♡⁠┊She quickly searches for the strap-on she bought especially for that night—one designed with two attachments for double penetration. The second dildo was crafted for anal play, a vibrating device made of the same material as her mechanical arm. Sevika chose this because she didn’t want to use her arm directly on you, knowing its hard, metallic structure might hurt you. Instead, she always finds creative ways to surprise you, just like tonight.

Carefully, she prepares your body. Her skilled fingers, warm tongue, and plenty of lubricant ensure that both your holes are ready for her. Once you’re comfortable, she lines up the dual-function strap-on, slowly impaling you with precision and care. Her hips move in tandem with the vibrations from the anal dildo, creating an overwhelming wave of pleasure you’ve never felt before.

"Shit, baby, look at this—wet as fuck... You're so greedy, always asking for more. My fuck toy holes are never satisfied, huh?" she teases, her voice low and dripping with desire. She slides two fingers into your mouth, coaxing you to suck on them while she fucks you slowly, savoring every moment. Sevika holds back her own orgasm, her pussy aching and dripping between her muscular thighs as she watches you, beautifully open and writhing for her. Her restraint only heightens her desire, every movement and sound you make driving her wild as she focuses on bringing you to heights of unimaginable ecstasy.

♡⁠┊Sevika activated the function to release a hot liquid from the strap-on, similar to semen. It was a type of hot, translucent lubricant designed to stimulate you and feed her fantasies of shaping your body. "That's it... love, I want to get pregnant so much, you know? You're going to look so beautiful full of my cock. Moan for mommy, moan loudly." she moaned hoarsely, biting your shoulder and making you bite hers too. It was a fair exchange; you would mark her, and she would do the same. She slapped you hard on the ass, moving her hips back and forth quickly while holding your neck and joining your lips in a kiss that mixed your moans. Her breasts pressed against yours, making both your nipples hard as she went harder, finally making you squeeze the silicone cock as the hot artificial liquid rewarded you, leaking from your holes and leaving you dizzy with the specially made substance. "I love you so much... you are mine forever..." Sevika gasped, resting her head on your breasts, kissing the soft flesh and biting gently as she pulled out of you.

♡⁠┊After the mess, she will clean you up and give you a bath, along with herself, not letting you fall due to your legs being weak from the orgasm. She dresses you in one of her loose blouses and puts clean sheets on the bed, placing you to lie in her strong arms, giving you a kiss on the forehead, sighing, also tired, but satisfied. "Go to sleep, so when you wake up, I'll still be here to enjoy our honeymoon." Sevika promises, calming you down as she waits for you to fall asleep so she can rest peacefully. It was a small new beginning among so many others, but she swore to herself to always make you happy, and the moon was the witness to that, bathing the two of you in silver on that night of peace and love—everything you needed, everything she needed, and now, there was you."

★ ! yanderestarangel©

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merakiui · 1 year ago

Text

never-ending noctuary; love forevermore.

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, somnophilia, non-con, overblot!malleus, obsession, breeding, baby-trapping, malleus is written to have two dicks, spoilers for part two of book seven note - and sitting powerful on his throne of thorns, omniscience at his fingertips, the lord of malevolence takes a bride.

An eerie, all-consuming quiet has fallen over Sage’s Island.

It is frigid and unfriendly like winter. Harsh and oppressive like silence. Painful and abrasive like brambles. Time has come to a swift halt here, and with it the people fall into never-ending euneirophrenia. Delights so dreamy shall inhabit the minds of all who sleep, the grandest gift granted to those unwilling. Like fate itself, wound around every living soul, it is inescapable. Inevitable like death—unfair and unforgettable.

But then it is also peaceful and secure. Quaint and warm like a blanket. Fluffy and floral like spring’s first kiss. Solace is far sweeter when spent in oneiric solitude, and so it will seem for one-thousand years. Forevermore, stretched taut into the future, the dream persists.

Is that not the best blessing? To those who wish to savor a fleeting moment just a second more, is this not a wish granted generously tenfold? Rather than immortalizing the past with photographs, it shall never come to pass. There is no need for bittersweet recollections or tearful farewells. The present will persevere, lived out in endless dreams.

Surely this is the correct course. Not just for Malleus, for he is a gentle, kind creature who recognizes the mutual desire for interminable merriment, but for the entirety of the island. Although in hoping for love forevermore, he has shackled himself to selfish, Epicurean pleasures. The type which normally lasts as long as a vision spent on cloud nine.

Currently, sitting proud and alone on a cold throne, Malleus knows of no greater joy.

The party may have fallen still as the grave, bodies slumbering in stiff propinquity, but it hasn’t finished. The food may have congealed, inedible and decaying, but it is there. A testament to spirits kept aloft, if only to ensure no one ever knows the desolation of endings.

Paradise is what you make of it. Thus, should you hope for it, you can walk on the clouds in your mind and never know of Icarus’s plights. You can shed insecurities and anxieties and taste delectable metamorphosis. You can be anyone and anything. You can be strong and wealthy. You can be fearless and heroic. You can be an impossible ideal.

You can be loved.

Malleus watches your seemingly lifeless form splayed on the sofa, limbs draped over that of Ace and Deuce. It’s a tranquil sight, a marionette freed from the strings of somber, suffocating life.

Under a roof of thorns, you are reborn.

Paradise is wondrous for Malleus, albeit a touch silent. He wonders what you might say if you were to stand at his side and observe this eternal slumber party. Would it fill you with awe? With appreciation? With abject terror?

Perhaps there is no use in theorizing. He doesn’t need to know, for you will love him even in sleep.

He rises, taking each step at a time. Thorny branches and roots part to make way for him, a groom traversing the aisle in search of his bride. You lie still, secrets sealed behind pretty, plush lips, and if he was not the cause for your current state he might assume you were late.

But there is no death here. It cannot reach. It will never reach because Paradise knows not of death or suffering.

Paradise is the garden before the infestation. Paradise is the body before bacterial devastation. Paradise is love before departed lamentation.

Malleus gazes at your restful face, leaning down to trace a clawed, blot-tainted finger along your cheek. There are no tears; you are a doll incapable of such sorrow, sculpted to portray perfect neutrality. He is most pleased with this development, his chest rumbling with a triumphant chuckle. Now you shall never know an ending ever again. Now you shall remain here, safe and stagnant in his arms, far from the mirror that may allow you to return home.

Gathering your body in his arms, he lifts you from the cushions. You crumble in his grasp, head lolling and arms noodling at your sides. Sagging dead weight, but he places his ear to your chest to listen to the melodic thrum of your heart. You’re alive, frailty shielded from the horrors of the world. Here, in thorny idyll, you will live forevermore.

Historically, all rulers must have someone to call their own. Whether it be by way of arrangement or convenience, strung together for the sake of conjoined power or out of obligation, this is an irrefutable fact. Historically, all rulers must bear an heir—someone to carry on the glory of an ever-present lineage.

Malleus refuses to bring a child into the world unless they are given the blessing of the one thing he was deprived of since birth.

A mother.

You fit in his embrace, a puppet tugged into a one-sided waltz. He steps over fallen bodies as he holds you against his chest, following the routine even though you aren’t awake to reciprocate.

Historically, a married pair must share the first dance. Or that’s what he’s read in fairy tales.

There are no rings here; promises are left unspoken. He won’t entertain rejection because there is no room for it in Paradise. Every unsavory, horrid thing—pestilence and pain, death and destruction, and sadness and sin—is packed away in Pandora’s box and shelved. Malleus won’t risk opening it to release the tiny shred of hope desperately clawing for escape. It’s not worth it.

He will foster his own hope if he must, and she exists in his arms—beautifully motionless.

The steps are executed with care, up the stairs and towards a lonesome chair. He attempts a twirl, lowering you into a dip. Your arms hang limply, eyes shut in permanence. Brimming with fondness, Malleus tugs you back up to press his lips to your forehead.

“Dearest one,” he mumbles, “may you know many fruitful fantasies in the arms of Morpheus.”

He reclaims his seat and situates you to face him while perched on his lap. You slump against him, near-boneless. He smiles at you, imagining the ruckus that would certainly come about from such a daring gesture. Sebek would squawk at you to have more respect and dignity. Silver would tut and shake his head. Lilia would look on in amusement.

These are small pleasantries, little wishes he hopes to witness someday.

Historically, a married pair must consummate their bond.

Malleus’s fingertips flit across your figure, feeling fabric beneath his palms. He tries to exercise restraint and take it slow—everything in moderation, Lilia would remind him—but he can’t contain his nympholepsy. Your clothes are discarded at once, shredded to scraps in his haste. He moves clumsily, following the searchlight of intrinsic ardor. You’re softer when bare, he observes, peeling your bra from your skin. A pallid hand presses down onto your breast, the pudge of which caves beneath his fingers. He withdraws and it bounces back to its shape.

Fascinating, he marvels with wide, enchanted eyes.

Claws tweak at your hardened nipples next. He’s careful because you’re notably weaker. Even in sleep, he must mind his hedonism. Too much and you will break. Too little and he’ll be left unsatisfied. Malleus watches your expression. It was mostly neutral, but now your eyebrows are twitching in response to his touch.

In sleep, you are the most vulnerable.

He knows this because he’s peered in from afar, admiring you through a glass barrier while you slept unaware in Ramshackle. He would never do anything without invitation. Though it may not be in writing, your body is oh-so-inviting. And he indulges because he’s only known this fervor in the deepest, darkest dreams.

Curiously, in his pursuit of passion, Malleus happens upon the special space between your legs. Delicate like a flower, it’s the prettiest part of your anatomy. If he wishes to connect with you, to tie himself to you in unholy communion, he must acquaint himself with this sliver of seventh heaven. He’s never seen one up close; the sight is foreign but very welcome. He drinks it in, burning your form into his retinas. Two fingers trace your labia, stroking along flowery folds in V-shaped strokes. You twitch in his arms, an unconscious, knee-jerk reaction.

At some point, in the middle of his experimental exploration, Malleus begins to hum. It’s a soft, genial lilt. Low and soothing, the lullaby fills the silent halls of Diasomnia’s common room like poison gas.

He contemplates whether this is enough. Can you feel these sensations even when you’re so deep in your dreams? Perhaps so, for when he brushes back the hood protecting your clit to rub at it you soak his fingers. Lubricious, your wetness shimmers on his fingertips when he pulls them away to admire the very essence of you. Without hesitation, he places his fingers on the pad of his tongue to clean both. It’s a divine taste, proof of pleasure.

You cannot speak, so instead your body does so for you. A most bewitching behavior.

Malleus’s hand slithers back towards home, his fingers sliding in with surprising ease. Gummy walls cling to slender digits, embracing the intrusion as if it’s meant to be. With each pump of his fingers, your body warms. The sinful squelch of scissoring fingers joins his humming in a salacious song. Every now and then, you spasm in his arms, your lips parting ever so slightly to release a sigh or a breathy moan. It’s musical, a whimsy he’s only just discovered.

“My beautiful bride,” Malleus croons, “you will know love in my arms. Love forevermore, here in this sanctuary. Fear not, for I have done away with all that may terrify and traumatize.”

Pressure is straining beneath the belt, an itch that must be promptly dealt with. Removing his fingers, he shifts you on his lap so that he may free his cocks from confinement. Twin monstrosities curve towards his stomach; perhaps you’d have been frightened if you were awake to behold them. His hand settles on the small of your back, steadying you as he lines one of them up with your body. The tip just reaches past your navel. For a moment, Malleus ponders whether he might break you.

Careful now, he can hear Lilia’s chiding. Impatience will lead to injury.

He heeds the unspoken warning, lifting you with both hands until the head of his cock is kissing your pussy. And then, slowly, he lowers you down onto him. Your pussy stretches around him, a snug squeeze that only grows tighter with every inch swallowed. Malleus pulls you flush against his chest when he’s halfway slotted, his breathing staggered. Your body quivers, walls fluttering around him, while his other unsheathed cock presses against your navel. Pre-cum smears on your stomach.

He’s determined to cherish you, thrusting all the way to the hilt after a few determined tries. It’s a firm fit, but it’s still bliss. Hissing through his teeth, brows knitted in concentration, Malleus wraps his arms around you and fucks. Mindless, mostly, but with the intent to reach the only acceptable end here: orgasmic ecstasy. He makes up for the lack of motion on your part by moving his hips to meet yours as he rocks you up and down. Whimpers slip past your lips; he shushes you with song, humming through groans and grunts.

This is love.

Malleus thinks so when he positions your hands over his other untouched cock. The illusion doesn’t last long because your hands are quick to fall away. Instead, he grasps your hand, guides it back to his shaft, and pumps himself using your precious palm for friction.

You’re bounced up and down in a parody of consensual copulation. Malleus dwells in imagination, picturing you in a wedding gown. He considers what you might say, the vows you would undoubtedly swear, and the sweet nothings you’d exchange late into the evening. He’d twirl you across an elegant ballroom while everyone looks on with tender adoration and reverence. He’d show you the stars hanging just within reach, and when you’re swept up in riveting romance the sky is tangible and dreams are spun from sugar.

He’d place you on his bed, stripping you of your dress, hands trailing up to tug the frilly garter from your thigh, and you’d smile at him, open your arms and welcome him with mutual affection. You’d bloom for him like a moonflower, your heart beating in sync with his, as he fulfills the final promise—one so bodily imperative. An oath to disturb desolate halls with noise. To hear the pitter-patter of tiny footfalls upon stone floors—he can’t imagine anything more harmonious.

You would soften throughout the months, bright with that foretold pregnancy glow. He would press his hands to your rounded belly and feel squirming within, restless kicks and nudges. You’d discuss potential names over breakfast, and he would hover even though he knows you’re plenty capable. But he worries because you’re so fragile and fleeting. So pretty. So round with child. He wouldn’t leave you alone for a moment; you’re far too enchanting. Perhaps, in some distant future, he’ll lower to the height of your stomach and sing to the baby.

A smile would tug at your lips and you’d reach down to pat his head, running your fingers over his horns. And then—

Malleus cracks his eyes open, his breath hot against your face. His chest heaves as he comes down from the high of domestic daydreams to find your stomach spattered with cum. Swallowing thickly, he peers between your bodies at your pussy stretched around his other cock.

Oh, he came inside.

Unexpectedly. Or perhaps not, for this was his intention. But once is not nearly enough, and he must fill you until you’re fit to burst—until it’s biologically certain you’re pregnant.

An emotion flickers on your face. Malleus mistakes it for jubilation, the type which calls forth a sunshower on your cheeks. He kisses the tears trailing down your face, ending at your lips for a chaste peck.

This is not the finale. It is simply the beginning.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia x reader #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus #n/sfw #tw: noncon #tw: breeding #tw: baby trapping #tw: somnophilia

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zvdvdlvr · 2 months ago

Text

Tom Riddle didn’t know what to do when you didn’t show up to classes for the day. Not only that- but you don’t have the decency to at least tell him that you were not going to attend the classes that you had no problem attending for the past six years.

So he does what any rational person does and shows up at your dorm. It was a privilege to be head girl, and you were more than happy about having your own room- and you had excitedly showed Tom your room the second you had it decorated. And being your… unofficial boyfriend and head boy, Tom supposes it was his duty- to the school- to find out why you were not reporting to classes or handling your responsibilities with the precision and efficiency that Tom had grown fond of.

When you finally opened the door after a full minute of knocking, Tom raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you. His eyes- critical as usual- sweeped up and down your figure thrice before determining that you hadn’t gotten out of bed at all during the day. “It is past dinner time. What could have possibly deterred your appetite?”

Tom’s attempt at a joke made your jaw set. “I’m ill,” you croaked, going to shut the door.

Tom’s foot wedged between the wood frame and thick door before it could shut with a thud. “You are not ill.” Your cheeks weren’t flushed with fever and your skin didn’t have the mild green tint it usually had when you were sick. “What’s ailing you?”

You sighed and leaned forward a tad- enough to ease the onslaught of cramps that had been terrorizing your body for the past ten hours. “My uterus, Tom. That’s what’s ailing me,” you snipe.

Tom’s eyes narrow. “You’re menstruating? It’s a week early,” he tells you.

Your eyes droop with pain and sleep. “Shut the door when you’re done gawking at my miserable, ailingform,” you request weakly as you turn and limp back to your king sized bed.

It shouldn’t have surprised you that Tom shut the door a minute later. He wasn’t really empathetic and it wasn’t his problem you were curled up in your bed, going in and out of sleep to try to handle the constant waves of pain. But at the same time… you had hoped.

Fickle, fickle hope. You tried not to let tears well up in your eyes at your own disappointment. You cursed yourself and your uterus as you wordlessly charmed your small throw pillow to radiate warmth to place against your stomach.

Tears dripped from your eyes as you tried and, eventually, dozed back off into a dreamless sleep. Your arms were wrapped tightly around the charmed pillow as you clung to the warmth (pathetically wishing it was Tom you were clinging to instead of a damn pillow).

Your door opened just when you were falling into heavy sleep. You groaned and wanted to berate whoever had disturbed your pity party. When you sat up, you ignored the shooting pain in your entire lower body and squinted at-

“Tommy?”

The man grumbled at the nickname. “When have I ever left you by yourself during this time?” He closed the door with his foot because he had things that you couldn’t see in the dark lighting in his hands.

He set a few vials of a shimmering wine red on your abnormally large nightstand- along with an actual bowl of soup, a spoon, a container of chocolate, raspberries, and cherries: your favorite snacks. “Tom…”

Tom uncorked a vial of the swirling potion and handed it to you. “Bottoms up, darling,” he ordered as he warmed the soup up with a wordless spell. When you placed the small vial back in his large hands he handed the bowl to you. “Eat.”

“I’m not-“

“Do not,” Tom interrupted you, “tell me that you are not hungry. If you want to keep that pain killer down, I expect you to eat at least half of that bowl.”

You blinked.

Tom fussed over the state of your room as you ate. He levitated clothes nack into your dresser, blankets in their appropriate places, and tended to the variety of plants you had perched all over your room. Tom almost scoffed- you took better care of the plants then yourself.

“I’m done,” you finally spoke up. Tom turned and strode over to you. “I- Put me down!”

Tom carried you the short distance to the bathroom. “Do what you must, then you’re going to bed.” When you stared owlishly at him, he rolled his eyes. “Why are you so surprised that I’m taking care of what is mine? Go,” he gestured toward the bathroom and gave you the eyes.

Tom carried you back to the bed when you had dried your hands. He slipped under the covers of your bed after you, wrapping a loose arm around your waist. “Get comfortable.”

You placed his hand over the part of your stomach that had been giving you the most pain. His breath fanned your ear and neck as he exhaled slowly. Tom’s lips pressed a featherlight kiss to the side of your neck- so light you questioned if you had imagined it in your tired state. “Good night, Tommy.”

“Sleep well, darling,” he murmured in reply.

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it-happened-one-fic · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, sorry to bother you but I would like to ask for a post from Leona, where Cheka is trying to get her two favorite people married (ie Leona and the reader)

Hi! Sorry it took me so long to respond to your ask! I had a bit of trouble writing this one, but over all I had fun too. I hope you enjoy!

Duly-Noted - Leona

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fluff/ sfw/ featuring Cheka/ request

Word Count: 1790

Leona huffed out a sigh as he watched Cheka play with you on the floor of the Ramshackle dorm from his relaxed lounging on the couch.

It hadn’t taken him long to figure out his nephew’s scheme when, as soon as the little fuzzball had appeared, he’d cheerfully stated that he wanted to come and play with you. Of course, Cheka had given himself as soon as he’d included his demands that Leona come along with him, even though he’d been to visit you at Ramshackle dorm plenty of times on his own.

Cheka was definitely fond of you, and Leona couldn’t really blame the kid considering how you patiently played along with the child. But that wasn’t what was really going on here.

What was going on here had more to do with Cheka’s pressing questions about why Leona so often told family members that he wasn’t particularly attached to anyone at school.

He could still see Cheka’s bright eyes looking up at him with an insistent frown on his face, “You know that is true, Unca! You like Y/n!”

Leona had snorted at his nephew, shaking his head at the child and, for once, was genuinely amused, “And what makes you think that?”

“You look at them the same way Papa looks at Mama. And Y/n likes you too! Why don’t you just take them home with you? Then you don’t have to worry about leaving them here while you visit us!” Cheka was as determined as Leona had ever seen him, but it was a drastic misreading of the situation.

Leona had plenty of reasons to not want to visit home, and none of them had a thing to do with you. But the moment he’d told the child that, Cheka had smiled.

He’d been all but beaming up at Leona from where he sat on his lap, hands fisted in Leona’s shirt like he thought his uncle would run away, “But you do like them.”

There were moments, like right then, when Leona almost wondered if Cheka was more intelligent than his father. Perhaps he’d taken after his mother in that sense. But then Cheka’s hare-brained plot for tricking you and Leona into a relationship certainly hadn’t been well schemed.

After all, Leona wasn’t the only one who'd caught on. You had, too. Though, to be fair, Cheka wasn’t exactly being stealthy with his questions about how, “Wouldn’t it be great if we all lived together?”

Leona had fully planned on handling it, but you'd only smiled, shaking your head and saying you’d talk to Cheka about it, “He’s just a kid after all, and he doesn’t mean any harm. There’s no need to come down on him so hard.”

Leona had only eyed you with rising eyebrows before shrugging, “Have it your way. But he won’t drop this easily. He’s a stubborn little thing.”

You’d snorted, elbowing him lightly as you went by to rejoin his nephew, “Must run in the Kingscholar family.”

And that had been that.

Truthfully, Leona hadn’t known what you’d told his nephew, but Cheka had fallen largely silent on the matter of a possible romance with you after that.

In hindsight, though, Leona really should have known better to think that was all there was going to be to it. Nothing was ever that simple. Especially when you or his nephew were involved.

He had to hand it to Cheka, though; he’d been completely caught off-guard when the child had suddenly questioned him about his wedding plans. Especially since it happened during a trip to Sam’s with Ruggie.

Cheka held up the little ring-shaped lollipop, and before Leona could even start to refuse to buy the treat for him, the child spoke with innocent curiosity, “What kind of ring are you going to get for Y/n when you two get married?”

Leona blinked, his eyes widening as he stared at the child who just stared up at him while Ruggie did a spit-take and Sam’s eyebrows lifted. The only sound that broke the silence was the occasional beep as Sam continued to scan items.

Leona finally frowned, crossing his arms as he eyed the child, “What makes you think I’m going to marry the Herbivore?”

Cheka frowned almost immediately, as if he were trying to mirror his uncle’s expression, “Y/n and you like each other. But Y/n said they couldn’t move in with us until you two had gotten married. They said people would talk since we’re royals and they aren’t if you didn’t.”

Cheka’s expression slowly shifted to one of concern, his tiny hand reaching out and grasping Leona’s pants leg, “You are going to marry them, aren’t you, Unca? Y/n’ll be sad if you don’t.”

Ruggie only barely managed to contain his laughter in an ugly-sounding snort that had Leona shooting him a look while a smile began to creep across Sam’s face.

“Did they?” Leona’s gaze shifted back to his nephew as he spoke, his tone careful as he eyed the child. But he was already putting two and two together without Cheka having to say anything.

You certainly had talked to Cheka about it, but now Leona was going to have to talk to you about this.

Ruggie wiped his eyes lightly before kneeling, humor still flooding his voice even as he eyed Cheka, “Well, marriage is a pretty big deal, Cheka. Leona can’t just go proposing without putting some real thought into it.”

Cheka frowned, but Ruggie only titled his head, reasoning with the child easily, “Y/n deserves the best, don’t you think?”

Leona watched, eyebrows raised, as Cheka frowned thoughtfully before his tiny face cleared like a sun coming out from behind clouds, and he nodded, smiling widely, “Oh! I see! Leona wants to sweep Y/n off their feet like those princes in the stories Mama likes so much.”

Leona didn’t even bother hiding his groan as Ruggie snickered mischievously, nodding and egging on the child, “Exactly, so you’re going to have to give him some time to do just that.”

Ruggie paused, glancing up at Leona with a grin that had Leona glaring at him warningly. But the hyena beastman was hardly even phased as he looked back at the child seriously, his eyes sparkling with poorly disguised mischievousness, “We’ll both have to support him, Cheka.”

Cheka’s expression turned determined as he nodded before looking up at Leona, “Good luck, Unca!”

Leona sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out an annoyed, “Uh-huh,” as he watched Ruggie lead his nephew out of the store.

He would get Ruggie for what a mess this was inevitably going to end up being, as well as deal with whatever the little mercenary wanted in exchange for his assistance later. First, he had a certain herbivore to find.

And he couldn’t complain that you were hard to find. But then you never were.

You were, as ever, at Ramshackle. Working on upkeep for the run-down building on your day-off, just like you usually did on the weekends when you weren’t working at the Mostro Lounge.

Leona didn’t even have to call out since Grim handled letting you know he was here for him.

You turned, blinking up at him in surprise, before a smile split its way across your face. Leona wasn’t really looking at you, though. Instead, he was staring at the busted chair you were apparently working on with a frown.

How the crossbar had wiggled its way out, was beyond him, but that was evidently enough, what had happened.

“Leona! No little prince with you today?” Your voice was bright, and Leona found himself looking back your way as he propped himself in the doorway.

He crossed his arms as he looked down at where you were seated on the floor, tilting his head at you, “Nope, but a certain little prince did tell me what you told him the other day.”

You blinked in confusion before your eyes slowly cleared, and you let out a small chuckle, shaking your head slightly, “Oh, that. He bought the marriage excuse pretty easily, and at least that way I didn’t have to lie or something like that to him.”

Leona felt his eyebrows rise at your words as you twisted to go back to work on the chair, seemingly unconcerned by what side effects your words might have had.

“Yeah, but now that he’s found out we’re dating when no one else has, he’s going to report directly back to either Falena or his wife,” Leona pushed himself off the wall as he spoke, walking over to where you were.

You simply shook your head at his disgruntled words, a smile on your face, “I still don’t see why it would be so horrible for them to know. But even if he does tell them, they probably won’t believe him. Not if Falena is as concerned about your love life as you say he is.”

Leona frowned as he watched you before kneeling and reaching around you to help you support the chair while you fought the crossbar into place, “No, he’ll call and ask all sorts of questions or, worse, have his wife ask me all sorts of questions.”

You hummed, tilting your head slightly, “You’ll be able to handle it if it comes to that. But, like I said, I really don’t see why it’s a big deal if they know or not. I’d like to meet your family.”

Your words caused his eyebrows to lift once more as he glanced over at you, watching as a frown crossed your face.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, confusion accenting your voice as soon as you spoke, “How did you find out what I’d told Cheka anyway? Did he just tell you?”

Leona let out a huff, his ears twitching as he glanced off to the side, “He saw one of those lollipop ring thingies at Sam’s and asked me what sort of ring I was going to get you for the wedding.”

You laughed aloud, earning yourself a look even as you shook your head in light-hearted amusement before glancing at him, “Hopefully nothing like a Ring-pop. That would be hideous.”

Leona grinned, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder, “You don’t want something big like that?”

You snorted, shaking your head, “No. I think a rock that size, even a fake one, would be a little heavy.”

He let out an amused huff, turning his eyes back to the chair as he idly considered what sort of ring might actually be best, “Duly noted.”

After all, your thoughts on it all mattered too, even if you didn’t know that held actually had been looking at some rings already.

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yuri-is-online · 11 months ago

Note

Here's a short list of things that I think would affect yuu (not from an omegaverse world) being in twisted wonderland (omegaverse au)

The scent thing. In my mind, everyone has a scent, including betas, theirs are just weaker. So how would Yuu, who has no scent, be classified? Would ortho or idia want to study them and see what's different between twst folks and earth folks? Scent is usually just noted in smut scenes, but it does have a larger role in most a/b/o stories. Mainly, it's how people communicate emotions. If you're happy, it shows in your scent. If your distressed, it shows in your scent. If your scared, excited, horny, anxious, it shows in your scent. People probably focus on scent when it comes to emotions before they focus on your face or body language. So figuring out what Yuu is feeling is probably a lot harder. It's even worse if Yuu isn't that expressive in the first place. Although it does make me wonder about how people try to hide their scents when their trying to be aloof or stoic...

Noises. This also ties into emotions, the more extreme ones at least. A/b/o twst people purr when their happy or content and growl when they're feeling territorial. Yuu might be able to growl, not very well but whatever. But purring? Yeah no. Not happening. Bless Jades heart he's trying so hard to give Yuu gifts they like and listening for a purr and it just. Never comes. Also imagine being Yuu and you're just getting growled at on a daily basis that's just gotta suck lmoa

Warnings for menstruation and omega heats 🤩 (also jade thinks his partner got SAed so HUGE TW). I personally think that TWST doesn't have periods. Mostly because I read Period Drama series by twstfanblog and was like "Yeah sure I'll integrate that into my belief system". So Yuus under a lot of stress right? Especially those first few months and overblots, so I think it's safe to say that an AFAB Yuus cycle would probably skip over those few months or even a year until everything calms down. And then boom! Ovulation! Jade thinks it's a preheat or a heat and is trying SO HARD to be respectful because they did not talk about this before hand and he doesn't know if he's aloud to "help" them the way he's wants to. Doesn't exactly help that Yuus throwing themself at him every step of the way and asking shit like "Hey if we have kids what would you name them :D?". Yuu is killing him. All in all though, it's a pretty subdue heat, they're not confined to their nest (a messy pile of pillows, blankets, and cushions that they impulsively made in Ramshackle one day) or anything, they can go to class and move around just fine (he doesn't let them though. He doesn't need any perverts possibly getting off or fantasizing about something only he should be fantasizing about), and unfortunately, they're not keeping him in their nest and letting him breed them until they forget their own name, so it all worked out just fine. And then about a week later, he goes to Sam's first thing in the morning to buy more snacks and comes back to the strong scent of his loves blood, only to find out that blood was coming from "the void" and they're curled up in pain, and crying. Yeah that was the worst moment of Jades life, actually. 0/10. Would not recommend. He almost killed several people that day 👍

Nests. Yuu doesn't know what the hell a "nest" is or why Jade freaked out so hard with joy when they made their shitty little pillow fort but hey! At least he's happy! Look at him! Just vibrating with joy! While he's sitting just outside the fort and is just... staring at them..... Is he not gonna come in? So now their scooching over and awkwardly patting the spot next to them- and Jades eyes just dilated SO HARD ok

Ruts and knots. The Fun Shit. Jade asked (very flusteredly) if Yuu would be willing to help him through his upcoming rut and Yuus like 🧍👍🧎. And it's a lot more intense than they were expecting. Bro is looking a half step away from feral as he carries Yuu over to the "nest" and just let's go fully shortly after they start. And Yuu is throughly enjoying it but also- isn't this a little much?!It's just a week of a bad Coleen Hoover novel where all they do is have sex and sleep! They ain't built for this! Honestly, they're just a doll for him at this point because there is not a THOUGHT behind those eyes expect for Jade and his dick and they ain't even mad about it!

That last section wasn't a question I was just thirsty. Damn this ask got long as hell shit.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH bless you. My lifespan... my strength... it is returning 2 me.

I think a lot of this could be cleared up with some communication, but at the same time poor Yuu wouldn't know what they were supposed to be communicating.

If scents are reflective of emotion and how people communicate, I would think they reflect people's personalities in the same way facial expressions do? So a particularly stoic person (like say Silver) would have a much more muted scent when he's happy than someone who is much more expressive (like Kalim.) Of the people who would be most distressed by Yuu's lack of scent, I think it would actually be Riddle since I could see him thinking it is a medical issue they need to get checked out ASAP. It would certainly isolate them from their peers even more than not being a mage would, making them a real alien as far as most people in Twisted Wonderland would be concerned.

Now. Jade. My beloved. I think after he manages to successfully court Yuu he would be very smug about this because he would be maybe one of the only people in Twisted Wonderland able to pick up on Yuu's unique body language. But that's in the future, now he's struggling because on top of no scent there's no purrs D:< He's fantasized about what it would sound like sosososososo many times and he is worryingly close to realizing that he's not above begging. He just wants some praise from his chosen mate... please...

lmao about the growling I just would not be able to take that seriously and probably make some dumb comment that would get my ass beat. But if it was really loud that would stress me out.

... oh poor Jade. In my head I am thinking of Yuu maybe having been told by a (concerned) adeuce that Jade is attempting to court them so they start trying to reciprocate (which does not help anyone's concerns) but they haven't really talked about what exactly that means yet. So by the time Yuu starts ovulating they're still in what Yuu might consider to be a "talking" phase? Because Jade hasn't asked to make things official? Whereas Jade is simultaneously on cloud nine planning the wedding and in the depths of despair wondering how best to continue his courtship efforts because oh he wants to help you with your heat so badly :c he's in a permanent state of horny grip the entire week and so tense. Yuu wonders if it would be too much to offer to help him relax since they aren't all that close yet so they figure they'll ask him some questions to see how he reacts and all that and he is extremely receptive but he still doesn't make a move, even if he does insist on talking to them around the pillow fort a lot?

Speaking of the pillow fort... I'm just picturing Jade sitting so pretty and heavy breathing while Yuu is sat there very confused because he is buzzing with excitement but they can't tell what kind. Man relationships are real hard so is jade when you add in alien biology and customs to them please let him help you hope you aren't doing something wrong? you could never please please please just one chance Yuu one chaaaaance

The period stuff... I don't think my mind would jump to SA but certainly some sort of attack and Jade being Jade, he would not let that stand. Thankfully no one actually gets hurt since Jade asks Yuu for names and they have a very strange conversation about reproductive biology. Oh so you are bleeding because you aren't pregnant? Well that sounds like such an easy fix~ And is probably when you finally have that talk about how horny he was all last week because he asks, very earnestly asks to help you through your next "heat" so you don't have to endure this pain again.

Since you were being thirsty allow me to share some of my... thoughts (￣▽￣||)

I feel like Jade would want to take Yuu in his merform at some point if not first because he wants them to think about it. He wants to ruin them for anyone who is not very specifically him and he is not shy about it, but alas the omega decides where to build the nest and you chose "poorly." Yuu is getting their guts rearranged while Jade bullies them about their poor nest building skills. It's ok, he just finds you so cute maybe he'll walk you through it next time? Sure he's never had to build a nest, never felt the need but he's sure if you follow his instructions nice and slowly you'll do just fine.

You wind up in Ramshackle's tub more than once. Just don't complain about not being able to remember most of it because he'll just take that as you wanting a redo. Say less, he's been good for too long anyway *smack*

#mdni #twst smut #n/sfw #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #a/b/o dynamics #jade leech x reader #jade leech x yuu #jadeyuu #<3 asks #tw sa mention

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cyborg-franky · 8 months ago

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Prompt:

I was wondering how two characters, friends or rivals, would react to liking the same person (reader), and competing for their attention

(Like for example Kidd and Law, Zoro and Sanji, Rayleigh and Roger, King and Drake, Benn and Shanks, Ace and Sabo, Marco and Izo, I’m not asking for all of these of course, I’m just throwing in some ideas)

any characters that pique your interest!

SFW - GN READER

TW: Polyam - Marco x Ace

Repost of mine from libary of ohara

He gripped the edge of the desk and eyed Marco carefully.

“Alright, maybe I do, so?” he sniffed, his posture bristled with nervous energy.

“Well, I do too, and I don’t plan on giving up nor getting in your way, I’m too old to deal with drama.” Marco’s tone was friendly, his half-lidded eyes never looked away from Ace, watching for a reaction.

Ace cocked his head to the side, processing everything Marco said. The two were close, and as much as he hated to admit it, he knew Marco would kick his ass before he could even blink if he wanted to.

“So, what are you proposing, Birdbrain?”

“Ah!” Marco chuckled as he sat straight in his seat, arms folded over his chest, a cheeky grin as he explained exactly what he had in mind.

You’d no idea the two commanders even liked you, thought the awkward flirting from Ace was just him trying to be nice.

Thought Marco was just teasing you, enjoying getting you flustered and stumbling over your words.

So, when they both confessed their feelings to you, on the same day, at the same time, over dinner. Well.

Marco wasn’t the jealous type, too easy going and laid back.

Ace didn’t mind as long as he got most of the attention.

You had no idea you’d have ended up with two boyfriends.

But here you were.

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sugarwarachan · 3 months ago

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touchstarved!shigaraki who doesn’t understand the yearning in his body when you sit next to him, this strange pull to close the distance

touchstarved!shigaraki who is still deeply, deeply terrified convinced that nothing good can come from touching him, so avoids touching you altogether

touchstarved!shigaraki who finally caves when you tell him he’s too fucking tense - “if rolling out the knots in my neck gets you to leave me the fuck alone -” (this idiot)

touchstarved!shigaraki who nearly cums in his pants when you tell him to lay on his belly, his nose in the sheets of your bed. you straddle his hips and he has to bite down on your pretty sheets to keep himself from moaning out loud

touchstarved!shigaraki who doesn’t realize he’s grinding his cock into your mattress as your fingers gently unlock the tension in his shoulders

touchstarved!shigaraki who cums the minute your fingernails scratch against his scalp, that slight zip of pain coupled with your tender touch making him see stars - “fuck fuck fuck it feels so good, don't you dare fucking stop”

touchstarved!shigaraki who becomes a whining, shuddering mess every time you get your hands on him

#i love this soggy skrunkly man #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki smut #sugarwarachanwrites #tenko shimura #tenko x reader #tomura x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bnha #touchstarved series #tw: (n)sfw

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romantisized · 10 days ago

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oh, mr. president — nanami kento (m).

pairing ⋆ president!nanami kento & chief usher!reader

amateur journalists, nobara kugisaki & yuuji itadori, snag a meeting with the retired chief usher of the white house, allowing them to revisit old memories ── particularly anything involving u.s. president, nanami kento.

genre & word count ⋆ fluff & smut | 11.8k words.

fic tags & warnings ⋆ fem-bodied!reader (they/she), political!au, political inaccuracies, forbidden romance, workplace romance, constant banter, nanami thee yearning god, age gap, unprotected sex, pleasure dom!nanami, breast play, fingering, clit stimulation, multiple orgasms, mating press, flashbacks are italicized, etc.

sticky notes ⋆ i binge watched the residence with my mom, and then i thought of scandal with president fitz. i know nanami would make such an amazing president. [ crossposted on ao3 ! ]

“Remember,” Kugisaki Nobara says, sitting alongside her partner, Itadori Yuuji, inside the work car, a white BMW. It's outdated, a 2013 328i model, but it gets the job done and it's still fast. “Don't be a dumbass and say something stupid. This is the chief usher, the person that knew the president the best and finally giving us more details about their relationship. We can't mess this up.”

“Allegedly,” Yuuji points out, still siding with the minority that believed the ex-president didn't sleep with them. He huffs, reaching for his half-empty sprite in the cup container. “Why're you so concerned with me? What about you? Remember our last gig together— you nearly got us fired for the stunt you pulled asking for that autograph.”

“I didn't think that Sukuna was serious about that,” Nobara crosses her arms, avoiding Yuuji's gaze. “It was after the interview as well. That man was and still is a jackass!”

“Whatever,” Yuuji downs the rest of his drink before belching out loudly to Nobaras's dismay. She gasps and reaches for the door handle as she mumbles to herself, disgusting. “Let's just get this one out the way without either of us messing anything up.”

“I won't mess anything up—” Yuuji starts tuning out the auburn-headed girl, rolling his eyes as he steps up to the door. With a deep inhale, he presses his finger to your doorbell, hearing the chime as Nobara's footsteps follow shortly after. Three rings before it returns to the silence of the outdoors. In the distance, Yuuji can still hear the sound of cars speeding down the lanes and occasional honking. It provides a good distraction from his nerves. Still significantly new to journalism, especially with an interview such as this one, he went the mile to make a good first impression. A baby blue, long-sleeved button down and gray slacks, the sleeves were cuffed and he was fidgeting with them as he waited. However, he can also tell that Nobara’s nervous as well, pulling at the stray threat on the edge of her skirt and fiddling with her fingernails about to bite them off when they finally hear a voice. “Yuuji and Nobara, correct?”

The two coworkers can’t tell where the voice is coming from, but they immediately respond with stammered yeses, their anxiousness evident. Again, the voice speaks through the camera watching them from above, “Please pull out your ID and point to the camera.”

Shuffling around, Yuuji pulls out his wallet from his pockets while Nobara snags hers from her purse, slipping out their IDs before struggling to find the camera. The monotone voice doesn’t indicate whether or not they’re irritated by this sign of unprofessionalism, “Point it to the left, please.”

Finally do the two of them notice the red light pointed directly at them. If this is you that’s watching them, their beet red faces will only get redder from embarrassment as they do as instructed. The amateur journalists stop when they hear a satisfied hum and a, “Great! Mrs. (Y/L/N) and I will be down to greet you shortly. Thank you for your patience.”

Nobara groans when she hears a click and slumps her shoulders. “We’re so bad at this! She must already think we’re unprofessional.”

“Don’t be so negative already,” Yuuji says in a low voice. “Maybe they understand that they caught us off guard.”

“I highly doubt that,” Nobara pouts. “I think—”

Before Nobara could say anything more, there’s the click of the door knob, forcing her to straighten up her posture and to hold in her breath. Yuuji follows suit as they fix their posture as though they’re in the military. Their minds go blank as their hearts begin pattering faster against their chests. When their boss had told them that you specifically requested for them to conduct the interview, Nobara and Yuuji both freaked out. Countless journalists from years prior tried churning out that story from both you and the former president before, but they all failed to get a word from either of you. Everyone knew the truth, speculated it after news articles came from inside sources revealing the relationship that President Nanami had with the chief usher of the white house, but with both parties neither confirming or denying such allegations, it was just one giant rumor that became something the nation loved to gossip about.

One year later, before the president’s second term could truly end, he decided to step down as president, and Vice President Gojo Satoru stepped into the position. You stayed as chief usher until the next election before finally stepping down, and the people of the country concluded that you retired from the job to finally sleep alongside Nanami in peace.

Nobara sides with the majority, finding that the original article that exposed all of this information couldn’t have been a lie. Who would fabricate such a detailed story just for it to be a lie? President Nanami was one of the greatest the nation had ever had, truly there for the people and both political parties favored the man, except for the few outliers, of course. However, Yuuji always thought that it was Nobara’s hopeless romantic heart that led her to believe such things so quickly. He was the type of journalist who needed plenty of resources to rely and support such claims. Who cared if someone on the inside reported such intimate details of the president? Why didn’t many more people come forward then, if it was so obvious that the person who was running the country was infatuated with the chief usher? There had to be more to it.

When the door swings open, Nobara and Yuuji are greeted by two older women. On the left, it must have been the lady who spoke to them on the camera. Pale skin, black hair and brown eyes, but the most notable feature about her is the scar that runs alongside her face. It takes Yuuji and Nobara strength not to ogle the women with mere curiosity. She smiles sweetly, already aware of what they were looking at before she speaks. “Hello, we spoke over the camera,” she confirms what they detected. “I’m Utahime Iori, and this is—”

She gestures to her left, but you interject before Utahime could finish. “I can introduce myself, thank you very much.”

The way you say it isn’t to be rude or snide, no. You chuckle towards the end of it as you throw Yuuji and Nobara a wink. “She thinks I’m some senile old person, but I can still talk. I’d’nt be having this interview if I couldn’t!”

Your laugh is contagious, Utahime holding her hand in front of her face to cover her growing smile as Yuuji and Nobara chuckle. You hold out your hand for the two young journalists, eyes sparkling as you introduce yourself, “I’m (Y/N). Come on in.”

─────

You’re kind, serving out food and drinks for Nobara and Yuuji before talking about the interview. They tried asking questions during brunch, but you’d often cut them off, asking for them to enjoy the meal before heading right for business. “I told myself I’d never give the press answers, but here I am doing just that! We’re doing things on my terms.”

Yuuji and Nobara obliged, because who knows if there’ll ever be a time where they’re being fed like this again. You seemed to be a kind woman with a personality that easily had them captivated. You had both Nobara and Yuuji’s attention for the entirety of the brunch, keeping them engaged in conversation as you asked about their personal lives and what they did in their spare time. The two journalists should have found the questions invasive, but you had their eyes sparkling as you hummed and acknowledged their stories. You were such a warmth, unaware when Utahime slipped by them and reached for their empty plates and washed them all up.

“I think it’s time we start doing this interview, right?” you say, scooting off the chair effortlessly and walking into the direction of your living area. Despite the home looking so small from the outside, it was quite a spacious area. Yuuji’s eyebrows furrowed as his puppy dog, brown eyes sparkled in confusion, completely forgetting the reason he was even here. “Hm?”

Nobara nudges the boy, slipping out of her chair and pushing it in with the screech of the legs. In a low voice, she hurried her partner with a “C’mon!”

Your living room was cozy and as expected of a lot of older people, cluttered in the same breath. Vintage brown leather couches with mediterranean print blankets thrown over. The intricate print on the rug tied well into everything surprisingly as the deep brown coffee table was decorated with fine china and personal trinkets to the woman. Yuuji and Nobara didn’t realize it before, proving just how bad they were at their jobs, but there were pictures around, answering the question that the nation had for years and confirming what everyone already knew— you and Nanami had been together for all those years. Digging his elbow into Nobara’s hip, he points to the picture sitting to his left. Look, he mouths.

Obviously, a picture of the two of you when you were younger and the former president was still alive. The two of you on the beach, you in a bikini and Nanami in swimming trunks. He was a fit man, holding onto you with such security and love. You were looking right at the camera, but he was looking right at you. As though you were the sunset standing right behind the two of you. Such adoration in his eyes, it was evident how much he loved you.

You saw how the two of them stared at the picture, your eyes lightening up, but it was all within due time. “How much is your company paying you for this article?”

“Mmm,” Yuuji shrugs, his attention diverted right back to you. He didn’t think twice about the curiosity of his and Nobara’s salary, open to offer you the details. “The company usually gets paid based on the views that it receives. If this does exceptionally well, we might get—” Yuuji tries to do the math in his head, but quick calculations was never his strong suit, making Nobara step in to finish for him. “Two-hundred dollars, at most.”

“That’s it?” You tilt your head with a scoff.

“Yeah,” Nobara nods. “It’s not that much, all things considered. But, because we’re still new in the game, we won’t be earning as much as the more experienced journalists have yet. Usually they branch off to do their own thing, if their readers are dedicated enough.”

“No, no, no,” you shake your head, unsatisfied with their nonchalance. “That just won’t do. I’ll have to pay you guys out of pocket for all the time you’re going to be putting in listening to me talk.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that. We’re sure that this article will set things off—” Nobara pinches Yuuji. “Ow!”

“Be smart like your friend right here,” you say with a smirk. “Don’t argue, just accept your blessings.”

You call Utahime, asking for her to make you a cup of tea as you pull your feet up on the couch. “Anyway, I don’t want to keep you guys here too long, so are we ready for the whole story? As you can see—” You gesture to the picture frames cascading the walls. “—The media was right, former pres— Kento and I were in a relationship all along.”

“Oh, yes!” Nobara chirps, reaching into her purse for her miniature notepad. She glances at Yuuji, “You’ve got your notepad ready?”

“Yeah,” Yuuji says in a low voice, reaching for his back pocket to pull out his and the pen alongside it. “Yeah, if you don’t mind, can you explain what exactly a chief usher does in the white house? I was never too sure.”

“What?” you snort, raising your eyebrow. “You two didn’t do your research before coming to speak with me?”

Nobara’s heartbeat immediately picks up, thinking that Yuuji completely ruined it for them. You had been so accepting so far, but this sign of unpreparedness ruined it. “Y–yes, but…” She stammers before you let out a hearty giggle.

“I’m just messing y’all, dear,” you smile. “Don’t worry. Google makes things sound more difficult than they are.”

Fixing your posture in the couch, you purse your lips out in attempts to find an easy explanation for the chief usher of the White House. “I want to start out by saying that I had no political role in the White House. I don’t get involved in any decision making. I was more like— Oh! Think of me as the manager of a hotel, or any business, as a matter of fact.

“There’s a portion of the White House where the president rests his head at night, eats his meals, and partakes in all recreational activity. Considering that Nanami didn’t have any family with him, we only looked after one man. There were chefs, a cleaning department, and all that stuff that specifically catered to the presidents and their living arrangements. I supervised all of that and made sure things run smoothly.”

In synchronization, Nobara and Yuuji’s mouth fall open as they drag out an “Ohhh!” in clarity. You chuckle, nodding your head. “Yes, I overran all of it. It was such an exhausting position, but all the while, so fulfilling.”

The way your eyes beamed when you described your job. As you reminisced about your position, the corner of your lips curved upwards in a smile of longing. They could see that you really loved being a chief usher. However, it only made them have more questions to ask you. This was their approach to journalism, letting the interviewee guide where their mind led to. It worked for them on a multitude of occasions and they were hoping this would be similar.

Sitting up in the seat, Yuuji’s already got the front of his page filled up. “And if I can ask—”

“I feel like I’ve both misled you when I contacted your company to speak to the both of you,” you say, eyes glancing towards Yuuji. “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt you. Yuuji and Nobara, right?—” They nod. “— I’m not here to answer all sorts of questions you had for me. Everyone knew that Kento was lying about being in a relationship with me. There’s no point in me giving answers to questions that everyone could look up in a quick Google search. If that was the point, you could just go back and read the article that started the entire controversy.

“I just want to tell you more…” You pause, trying to find the right word, “intimate details of what happened; to give you a more accurate replay of what happened. That’ll hopefully answer all the questions you could possibly have for me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Nobara and Yuuji answer with a sturdy nod.

“Great,” you sigh. “Now, where do I even start? I guess a good story starts with some background, right?”

“Start wherever you feel comfortable with,” Nobara says, gnawing on her bottom lip as she holds her notepad ready to write the moment you start speaking. You nod, finally finding a starting ground. “I started working as the assistant usher when I was 23.

“My father trained me to take his position until I was 29 and he was ready to retire. I thought it was too soon and that I still needed more time, but he was ready to hit the hay and finally get some rest. By the time Nanami became president and had moved into the White House, l was still trying to find out who I was as a chief usher. I had only experienced two presidents before him, but I had already known that I didn’t like him.”

That comes to a surprise to the journalists, remembering how the initial article on the two of you spoke about how you and the president were immediately smitten. Yuuji stammers on his words, garbling out his question, “Wa–Wait— Wait… You didn’t like Nanami at first?”

“Nope,” you confirm.

“Why not?” Nobara furrows her eyebrows. “He seems so… nice?”

“He was too easy going,” you scoff, leaning back into the couch. “It made my job harder because he was too simple. The presidents before him knew exactly what they wanted and how they wanted it. They were assholes, sure, but because of that, I knew how to take care of them and how to give them exactly what they wanted. It annoyed the living hell out of me how humble he was.”

You chuckle, recalling a specific event that was the catalyst towards you and Nanami’s relationship. “My father always told me that I could be a little hot headed, and I never took him seriously until I yelled at the president.”

“You yelled at President Nanami?” Yuuji gasps, voice getting higher in disbelief. You snort, “I sure did! And he deserved it, too, for making my job harder than it needed to be!”

“(Y/N), you need to go talk to the President,” the head chef, Shoko Ieiri, trudges into your office as you’re overseeing important documents before they need to be turned in for later today. You had a migraine building up, reading the fine print underneath the desk lamp. Shoko wasn’t helping your current status when she came storming in, miserable as always. Looking up, you sigh, “What is it now?”

“President Nanami has done the same thing as he did last week,” she starts to complain. “Refusing to complete his weekly meal plan, saying that we can choose for him.”

Typically, you could tolerate Shoko and her bleak personality. She was nice to you, so you were, in turn, nice to her. However, with such an over grueling day, you couldn’t take such small issues at the moment. And frankly, you couldn’t take the indecisive president either, at the moment. “Just send someone up again— and not Takuma again, either. That’s why we’re in this situation again.”

“What’d you think I did this time?” Shoko huffs. “Sent Riko up there—”

“Riko’s no better than Takuma, too!” You raise your voice. “Look, I don’t have the time for this, right now. Come back in an hour and we can sort this out—”

“No,” Shoko stands her ground, crossing her arms as she stares at you challengingly. “I don’t have another hour because we need to start prepping for the incoming week right now.”

Arching an eyebrow in her direction, you tilt your head.

Now, the two of you march in strides towards the Yellow Oval room. Neither of you’re saying anything, but you can feel how triumphant Shoko feels for getting in her way. She had a talent for using your impatience to the advantage and you wanted to nip that in the bud in the near future.

“Wait outside for me,” you speak calmly.

“No,” Shoko scoffs. “I need to know—”

“Wait,” you speak more sternly, “outside for me.”

With the bass in your voice, Shoko begrudgingly stays back while you open the door. Pushing open the door rougher than you intended, you call for the president’s attention immediately. You hold a blank meal plan and a meal in your hand, and when you look over at the blonde, you can only feel your chest rising in frustration. You had so many more important matters to deal with, and truthfully, if Shoko really wanted this to be resolved, she should’ve done this herself.

You don’t know why you gave in so easily, but now that you’re here… You throw the menu and meal plan in his direction, catching Nanami completely off guard. In the moment, you had no care for the consequences, only fueled by your frustration. “Fill out the meal plan.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feign apologeticness. “Can you please fill out the meal plan, Mr. President, sir?”

He scoffs, ignoring your mocking tone as he looks back at the paperwork in front of him, those same round spectacles right at the brim of his nose. “I have more frivolous things to worry about than a meal plan, right now?”

“And, what?” you challenge him. “You don’t think I want to be here right now badgering you about it, myself?”

“Miss (Y/L/N), I’d be reluctant about the tone you’re setting with me right now,” Nanami warns you, but you couldn’t give a damn.

“And I ask you to not make my job anymore difficult than it needs to be,” you retort. “There should be no reason I’m here asking you to choose seven meals for the rest of the week, when there are other people who’ve been hired to do this. There should be no reason why the head chef should have to come to me complaining because you can’t make a decision for yourself.”

“I’m not a picky man,” Nanami sighs. “Choose whatever you want and I’ll be fine with it.”

“You say that, but I’ve experienced plenty of assholes before you to know when that’s a lie.”

“You called the president an asshole?” Yuuji gasped. You nod, “It wasn’t one of my best moments, but gosh, I just needed Shoko off my back. It’s not easy being a chief usher, y’know?”

“I don’t understand how you didn’t get fired,” Nobara exhales.

“Me neither,” you chuckle. “I’m glad he didn’t. My father would’ve had my head.”

“D–Did you just call me an asshole?” He sounded more baffled than angry. It quickly made you realize your mistake, each and everyone of them that you made the moment you opened that door. Maybe you should’ve lied, but that wasn’t really in your nature. If you were going to be fired, you might as well be truthful.

“Y-Yes,” you breathe, hearing your heartbeat pang heavily against your chest.

And then it was silent. Nanami just looks at you, giving you a steady once over before reaching for the menu and meal plan. With his pen, he clicks it and carefully completes. Neither of you say a word until he’s done. Standing up, he approaches you. He doesn’t hand you the meal plan, keeping it close to himself. Brown eyes staring down at you, giving you the opportunity to see the exhaustion embedded in them, he lets out a sigh. “I apologize for making things more difficult for you,” he apologizes. Your eyes widen, the first time you’ve ever experienced a president apologize for their wrongdoings. “But, if you ever disrespect me again, it’ll be your last day here.”

“Is that how you guys got together?” Nobara tilts her head. This was so informal. This felt too personal for two journalists to be sitting down alongside the former chief usher of the White House. However, neither of them would question a thing.

“No,” you shake your head. “Despite what that article claims, we didn’t get together until his third year as president.”

“That long?” Yuuji inhales. “Why?”

“Because I was a professional,” you beam with pride, holding a hand to your chest as you straighten up your back. “And I knew the repercussions if I acted on my feelings. He had confessed to me before, towards the end of his first year, in fact. But, I had to shut down things quickly. I don’t even think I reciprocated feelings for him at the time!”

“Miss (Y/L/N),” Haibara Yu, Nanami’s best friend and bodyguard, knocks on your office door, peeking his head inside. He gives you a warm smile. “Nana— President Nanami wants to speak to you in the Yellow Oval room.”

Ever since your incident with the president in said room prior, you had cleaned up your act. Got control of your temper and told Shoko if this event were to repeat itself, you’re not going to be the one stepping in anymore. Your job was to ensure everything was running smoothly within the residential area of the White House, not doing everyone else’s job because they couldn’t be bothered.

The president realized that his easy going approach wasn’t going to do. No longer giving staff the leniency that he thought they’d like, he showed people exactly how he wanted things done, and it put the majority of the residential staff at ease. However, not you. No, ever since your confrontation, it was like the president needed to keep an eye on you yourself, asking for you more than any other president had.

“I haven’t even seen past presidents call on your father the way President Nanami calls for you,” one of the cleaning staff had told you one day. Well within her years at the White House, she had seen and experienced it all. “You must’ve done something bad.”

You can’t help but be reminded of that moment as Haibara walks alongside you towards Nanami’s direction. Once walking at the same speed, you start to slow down, really taking it into consideration that maybe he was keeping you on a leash after your lash out. You had apologized for that, assuring it wouldn’t happen again. It had been months, surely you had proven yourself.

Seeing you slow in pace, Haibara stops to turn around. “Everything alright, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

Haibara was nice and kind. Brown eyes and a smile that spoke trustworthy. Surely he could enlighten you on why Nanami was calling you this time. You crack your knuckles, a habit you had developed when you were younger. “Had I done something wrong?”

Haibara hums, trying to recall Nanami’s direct request. “No. He just asked me to bring you to his office.”

“Are you sure?” At that, Haibara chuckles, that boyish smile lightening the mood. “Did you do anything wrong recently for you to think so?”

Recently, no. “No.”

“Then, I’m sure you’ll be just fine.” He dismisses the matter, calling you to follow him once more as he starts walking. Leading you to the Yellow Oval Room, Nanami sits there waiting for you. Again with a thing of paper before him as his glasses rest on the edge of his nose. He hears the both of you come in, but he doesn’t say a thing. Not yet.

While you work on your temper, you still have yet to practice more patience as you rock on your heelYou clear your throat, but the older man’s attention still stays glued to the papers. “Excuse me, sir. You wanted to see me.”

“I did,” he hums. “Just give me a moment.”

You nod, letting out a sigh as you try to occupy yourself. Eyes diverting to the window and looking out at the perfectly manicured grass and the trees. The sky is a nice shade of blue and it looks comforting. Getting so lost in it, Nanami’s voice brings you back to reality when he instructs Haibara and the next bodyguard to leave the room.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t do that,” the next one says.

“You will today,” Nanami simply states sternly. “It will just be for a quick minute.”

Haibara lets out a breath, directing his partner to follow him alongside as they close the door. However, you can still see the shadow of their feet waiting out front. Standing uncomfortable in your position, you grimace. “Are you sure it’s safe for you to send your bodyguards out like that?”

“Do you plan on killing me, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

“What?” You hadn’t realized he had taken a step until he took the next one.

“I said,” he arches an eyebrow, staring into your eyes. “Do you plan on killing me, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

“No,” you scoff.

“Then, I believe the both of us shall be fine.”

“Why’ve been calling me down so much?” you ask. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been on a very clean streak lately. I haven’t called you an asshole again.”

You cringe, watching how Nanami’s expression hardens. With a finger, he points at you, tsking. His eyes brighten up, making the atmosphere lighter. “You’re a character, for sure.”

“I’m sorry,” you say in a low voice, looking down at the ground.

“Don’t,” he says, stepping away from you. “I quite enjoy the informalities. Makes this old place more refreshing.”

At that, your shoulders relax, that tinge of fear dissipating.

“What are your favorite flowers?”

“Hm?” You scrunch your nose in confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, I’m just asking you a question.”

“Tulips.”

“And your favorite dish?”

“Is there a true purpose to why you wanted to see me today?”

“I asked you what’s your favorite dish.”

“Do you think that just because you’re the president that I should just answer all your questions without any for myself?”

“If I say yes, will you keep responding to me with your snide remarks?” There was a glint in your eyes to tell you that this entire conversation had a meaning to it, making your eyes widen at the possibilities your mind is insinuating. You take a step back from him, realizing how close in proximity the two of you are.

“Can you just stop frustrating me and tell me why you called me here?” you sigh. “I have more… frivolous things to worry about right now?”

Nanami chuckles. But his posture stammers. Dropping his shoulders and fixing the buttons on his shirt, he clears his throat. “I’m trying to ask you out on a date. I thought I was being obvious.”

“I had a feeling,” you admit. “But I want to know, why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why are you asking me out on a date?”

He scoffs. “I think I like you better when you aren’t acting this dense.”

“Excuse me?” You gasp. “I’m not dense!”

“Everything else is telling me that you are,” Nanami clears his throat, reaching for his glass of water on the coffee table. “C’mon. It’s a simple yes or no. I won’t break if you tell me no.”

“Everything else is telling me that you would,” you cross your arms.

“Is that all you can do?” Nanami scoffs incredulously at your behavior. “Be stubborn and throw back what I’ve said in my face?”

“We went back and forth for a little while longer before I eventually told him no,” you sigh, a smile beaming on your face as you recall the trail of events. “I was a stubborn thing back then, still am! I think that’s why he liked me so much.”

“What made you break?” You could see the sparkle in Nobara’s eyes, seeing how she, herself, yearns for a love story like your own. “What made you finally give into temptation?”

You reminisce to that exact moment in time when you could feel your body caving into the temptation that was Nanami Kento. With a deep and heavy exhale, your shoulders relax. “Him,” you smile. “That evil bastard had the gift of pining. Even when I said no, he wouldn’t stop coming after me. It’s because he knew I wanted him, too—” You point at Nobara, eyes narrowing with a sternness that makes her believe she’s in trouble. “—Never let a man know that you reciprocate their feelings. They’ll only keep tormenting you.”

Nobara chuckles at that, but keeps that snippet of advice dear to her heart. “When I finally said yes, he organized a date for the both of us not too long after. Of course, we couldn’t let anyone know and with him always being watched over, it was hard, but we managed to do it.”

You felt like an idiot agreeing to this, letting Nanami finally convince you to dip your toes in the water. If anything went wrong tonight, the two of you would come to an agreement to call everything off. You were still in your work clothes, the majority of the staff already clocked out and in their beds. The remaining walked by you without a second thought or question, putting you slightly at ease as you walked down the corridors towards the president’s bedroom.

Nanami had a power to invoke fright into his immediate bodyguards, or maybe Haibara was too giving to his best friend, taking a moment to leave while you could slip in without being noticed. It had proven easier than you initially thought, your racing heart struggling to calm down the moment you inside his sleeping champers and Nanami sat on the edge of his bed waiting for you. He chuckles slowly, seeing how wide your eyes are in the dim lighting provided by the moon. Completely dark, he wants everyone to think he’s asleep. However, in the far right of his room, there’s a small table with two plates of food waiting to be eaten as a desk lamp rests in the center.

“If I’m being honest,” Nanami starts. “I thought you were going to flake on me.”

You gasp, clutching your necklace in fake surprise. “You think that I’d flake on a date with the president? Do you really think so lowly of me?”

“After three years of waiting?” Nanami sighs. “Yes.”

You nudge him in his sides, forgetting who exactly you’re talking to at that moment.

“He made me feel like we were in an actual restaurant,” you paused. “Sure, there weren’t any waiters and chattering around, but you get what I mean. He had such a strong presence that he was able to captivate my attention for the whole night. When it came to the end of it, I didn’t want to leave.”

When it was time to call it a night, Nanami directed you towards the secret passageway. You had known almost every nook and cranny of the White House, but miraculously, not this. Nanami had to teach you where to go that night.

“You’re going to make a left and two rights before you’ll be at your wing of the residence,” he instructs, his chest pressed against your back as he shines his phone flashlight in the tunnel. “Since there’s no shift changes for the next hour or so, you should be alright.”

“Should?” you challenge playfully. He smirks.

“You’ll be alright,” he corrects. And in an even lower voice, he whispers, “Good night.”

You just stood there, hesitant to leave while he was waiting for you to. You told yourself the moment he had asked you out, that you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the both of you. However, you had eventually caved in, and now that you did, you didn’t want to do anything to stop this. Knowing a little more about the president and knowing what he liked and did outside of politics, it shined a different light on him now.

You don’t know what overtook you.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, voice laced with concern when you spun on your heel. Your heart was racing, and every rational thought was still relaying the repercussions that this had on your career, but your feet moved involuntarily and so did your hands. Invading the president’s personal space, you grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him to your height.

The dark surroundings solidified your solitude, sucking the two of you into your own universe. The chill of the air made you want to dive into his hold even more, seeking for the warmth that you felt that only he could provide you. You had other partners prior to being a chief usher, having your fair shares of boyfriends and kisses. However, they all felt so childish and immature. This being your first kiss in years, this felt world renouncing and powerful.

Nanami’s large hands quickly found purchase on your hips, further wrinkling your work clothes in his hold as he pulled you closer into him. His entire presence was swallowing, your entire senses filled with him. Pink muscles dancing with each other, never fighting for dominance, but for equity— finding a home within one another. He tasted tonight's late dinner, but so did you, and somehow it was the sweetest thing either of you had ever had.

He had made you out of breath, speechless, by the time you two pulled away from each other. Both of you panting and catching your breaths, it takes you some time to recuperate and come back to your senses. When you look up into Nanami’s eyes, though dark and the only source of light being the moon, you can still see the brown hues that remind you of fresh coffee beans when you stop by the cafe early in the morning before work. You wonder if there’ll be a time where you could do that with Nanami.

You should’ve said good night. You wanted to, but the moment you started imagining a future with him, was the moment you broke the lenses of your own rose-tinted glasses. In a haste, instead of good night or telling him that you enjoyed your night, you said, “I should— I should go.”

You didn’t have to say it. Because your actions spoke loud and clear for Nanami. He knew what your heart meant. He nodded, eyes sparkling with want as he fixed his shirt. The tunnel door still open, he repeated his instructions— a left and two rights.

The next day when you were doing your usual run-arounds, you and Nanami managed to cross paths. He was stealthy when he slipped something into your coat pocket. On your lunch break, you finally notice it when you’re reaching into your pockets for something when it slips out. Folded into a square, when you straighten it, it reads: Everything went smoothly, so I’m expecting a second date in two weeks.

The microwave beeps as you chuckle. You’re grateful that you’re all alone at the moment. You breathe, “That jackass.”

“He was the sweetest thing to ever happen to me,” the corner of your eyes watering as you spoke. “Said he would end his presidency for me, but I convinced him to run for another term. I didn’t want him to call it all off just for a woman. The damn man said I wasn’t just any woman.

“It’s a shame he passed before you two could meet him,” you sigh. “You’d have loved him. He was so down-to-earth when he wasn’t a pain in the ass.”

You had made each other your favorite habits, finding it easy to sneak through the corridors in the dead of night to see each other. The bodyguard’s tunnel had become your bed friend, memorizing the route to the president’s bedroom in a matter of time. It’s shocking that you haven’t been caught yet.

You had been told time and time before that your brazen and headstrong personality would be a deterrent, making people repelled to form any relationship with you, you had started taking it to heart within your early twenties. It was harder to create new friendships and the people you were attracted to didn’t seem to like you back. You didn’t mind it at first because you know at some point that your job would make you forget all about that, but now, Nanami’s sparked up those old memories. But just as quickly as he reminds you of them, he’s made them disappear with the snap of his fingers.

When your paths would cross, he’d always put in subtle effort to tell you, he sees you. Little slips of notes, the graze of his finger against your skin, quick glances thrown your way while you were busy settling small disputes, and so much more. And when the moon covered the sun’s shift and the sky grew darker, you and him were trapped together underneath his covers. Thick comforters underneath the vent that blows ice cold air, he shields you from the winter of it. In each other’s embrace while the bodyguards stood outside stoic, his body was summer, engulfing you in a tight embrace that made you feel like you were at home.

“C’mon,” he chuckles, messing with your pants' buttons while you try to swat them away. You have to stifle your voice, sucking in your giggles as you jut out your knee. His next hand’s on your hips, his fingertips digging themselves into the bone. He’s so close, his nose kissing the tip of yours as he puckers his lips. “Let me take it off. We’ve got more than an hour until Haibara’s off his shift. That’s plenty of time for me.”

“Plenty of time for you to do what?” you scoff, still pushing him away. “To torture me to no end? It’s bad enough I’ve got to work for you for a few more months. Now you want to subject me to pain? No, Kento. Leave me alone.”

“What?” he smiles, those tired brown eyes brightening up. “You think I don’t have what it takes to win a second term? O ye of little faith.”

“No,” you joke along with him, losing your grip on him as he’s finally able to undo the button and pull down your zipper. Finally giving in, your hips rise up as you shimmy out of your pants and kick them off the moment they pool at your feet. “You’re the worst president we’ve ever had yet. The people will see for themselves in your second run.”

“You’ll tell them how much of an asshole I am?” he snickers. You nod, spine shivering as the cold air seeps underneath the comforter, tickling your skin. But Nanami’s always been the blanket you needed, his large palms resting on your upper thighs and massaging them with his body heat. His fingers rise to tap against your inner thighs, coaxing you to spread your legs.

“By the end of it, they’ll know just how bad you are, Mr. President.”

Arms draping around his neck, your covered chest presses against his as you pull him for a kiss. You could never get tired of the way his lips tasted against yours, the way he took your lips with such fervor and want. If there was something more than wanting and needed, that’s what he made you feel. If there was something more than longing, something stronger than love, that’s what he made you feel. That’s what you felt.

He helps you get out of your blouse, nearly ripping out a few buttons in his impatience. And with ease, he slips you out of your bra, freeing you from their manacles. Another kiss he plants on your lips, so sweet and tantalizing they are, creating a trail down to the juncture of your neck and to your cleavage. But before he can have you just how he likes and wants, he looks up at you through the strands of his disheveled blonde hair. “I’m sure I’ll change your mind soon enough.”

Nanami wishes he could love you in the light. He wishes he could admire you truthfully in the brightness of the sun, and not only have the moon as a witness to his utter devotion to you. When he’s explored your body, his fingers have felt the thick lines of your stretch marks. He wishes he could admire them under the morning beams, waking up to you in the sun’s glory. He wishes that when he kisses and prods on the dark nubs that stand erect for him, that he could see you for all of your truth.

But the darkness stands for the secrecy that this relationship is, forever being the obstacle that holds you both back from having each other out in the open. So, every time he has you in a position like this, he doesn’t take you for granted and gives you what feels like his all. But, is it really? Nanami feels like can never give you his all as long as he keeps you in the dark.

Someone like you, you’re not made to be hidden. He knew that from the moment you called him an asshole because of some damn menu plan.

His pink tongue drags a line from under your breast, tasting the salt of today’s hard work, all the way up to your puckered nipple. He salivates like a rabid beast, the muscle dripping in spit before he suckles on it.

And just as your personality is strong, so is your body— so reactive and vocal to his touches. Your chest rising and falling as you put in your best effort to keep yourself under control, your back an inch off the bed as you silently plead for more. You’ve always deserved more and Nanami feels unfortunate that he can’t give you that. He’s the president, for Christ’s sake, that’s what he’s supposed to do. Give people more in life and provide for his nation.

But how is he supposed to provide for a nation if he can’t even provide to the one person he desperately wants to?

He wants to hold on to you so tightly in a way that you could never leave his embrace. He wants to hold you so tightly in a way that he’ll never forget what you feel like. Lips latched around your nipple, his next hands playing and flickering with the bud, he bucks his hips in between your legs and into the sheets of the bed. The taste of you on his tongue is addicting, your entire body an aphrodisiac to him, something he’s hooked himself on the first time he had gotten you caged underneath the sheets.

You’re a temptress who must’ve casted a spell on him specifically, because how could a man such as him succumb to you so easily? For the majority of his life, he had focused on himself and his future. Never indulging himself into the pleasures of what romance could provide him. People used to tease him for it, but now that he’s here now, he doesn’t regret any of his choices.

His cock erect underneath his clothes, he rubs it against the fabric, hoping for some friction as he finds home in your chest. Saliva pooling from the corner of his lips as he suckles and latches onto your breasts.

You squirm in his hold, arousal pooling down on the crotch of your panties. Clenching around nothing, you can only buck your hips up as Nanami finds himself so enamoured with your chest. You’re not even sure he can hear you when you call out his name. But that’s all you can say, his name. Kento.

You’ve held yourself back for so long. You’ve restricted yourself from the possibility of having him for longer all because of your stubbornness, but maybe it could have worked out back then. However, you try not to drown yourself in the maybe’s and what if’s, importing yourself to the present and the pleasure that right now is giving you.

You’ve only worked with two presidents prior to Nanami and they all had the same thing in common— how selfish they are. But not Nanami. No, Nanami was the most selfless man you knew with how he treated you. He always tended to your pleasure and needs before his own, finding himself cozy in whatever position he was as long as you felt good. Putting himself second, there were plenty of instances where he was left with blue balls due to his own stubbornness and pushing your wandering hands away from him whenever you wanted to jerk him off or stuff him inside your mouth.

You used to question it, but they all went answered by the sounds of his moans when you moaned. He took pleasure from this just as you did. His large palms planted on your breasts, gripped and groped at the fat as he hopped from one to the next with his mouth. When he pulled away, they’d be swollen and overtly sensitive from his endless torture. And his eyes would gleam in a sense of pride by the way you would whine and mewl when his fingers would flicker over the nubs. However, he wouldn’t stop, thick digits playing with them as he’d sit himself up and slot his legs right in between your thighs and pressing against your sweet mound.

You immediately started searching for some reprieve, grinding your panty-clad cunt against his lower thigh. Your slick soaked into the cotton and soon soiled his bottoms, but he couldn’t care less. You were feeling good.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he whispers. “Always so pretty when I’m making you feel this good.”

He took so much pleasure and pride in how you felt, the corner of his lips inching upwards as he watched how your eyes would gloss up and your mouth would form an ‘O.’ However, you still weren’t good with patience, your hands reaching to dig your fingers into his wrists, forcing his hands to go lower and just where you want. While you were a very vocal person when it came to being a chief usher, Nanami had found a way to silence you in the bed. The only thing it seemed you could manage to muster was his name, always battling from Nanami to Kento. Right now, it was “Kento” being sung in the air, in a low tone as you’ve trained yourself to keep silent.

“My needy little baby,” he said, but obliged to your request, pulling at the seat of the soiled cotton and dragging it down your legs. A string of your arousal follows before it snaps. You kick off the flimsy fabric in impatience, being greeted with the icy air before Nanami’s thumb prods and presses down on your clit. He can feel how much you need him, how much you want him, your sticky slick hugging at his fat digit as he glides it back and forth.

He leans down, finally meeting your face for another kiss as you throw your arms over his shoulders and your nails claw into the back of his neck. His thumb still gliding against your wet mound, he swallows all the moans that threaten to spill as your sensitive and needy bundle of nerves cause your body to jolt in need. Walls clenching, your legs tense up before they can wrap around Nanami’s torso. Simultaneously, his thumb presses at your entrance, diving in as you let out a high-pitched whine that Nanami shushes.

A reminder you’ve heard aplenty, him pressing a finger to your lips. “You’ve got to be silent, my love.”

You nod all the same, as he pushes his thumb inside, toying with your entrance with slow and little thrusts, barely grazing a thing. However, he’s no true man of torment, quick to switch it out for his index and middle with a plunge that you’re never expectant of. A gasp as your legs tighten around him, all you can feel is Nanami. He swallows your next squeal, knowing you and your body well enough to know what comes next as he indulges in your ecstasy.

Your first orgasm is quick, having built you up for some time now that the quick scissoring of his fingers brings that band inside your stomach to snap. There’s no warning, but he couldn’t care for that, loving how you make a mess of his fingers as he continues forth. It becomes harder to conceal your voice, seeing how Nanami’s come to love this dance between danger, making you feel so good that it becomes harder to hide. His next hand plays with your clit, overstimulating you and calling a fire to your body.

You pant in short breaths of air, choking on your moans as your eyes begin to water. Oh, how bad you want to let out a sound, but Nanami silences you with the deep dive of his tongue. Your second orgasm is wetter, splashing onto the both of you and opening a line of questions from the cleaners that he’ll only ignore and rush them to do their jobs. Your moans and whines are muffled out against his lips, feeling how your chest presses into him and your body spasms. There’s a discomfort to wet clothes, but he ignores it for the sake of you and what you want. He pulls away, his hot breath dancing against your skin as he pants. “Have you changed your mind yet?”

And somewhere in that foggy mind of yours, you still manage to shake your head, your defiance still holding on strong despite the vulnerable predicament you’re in. But, who is he to complain? It’s one of the reasons why he loves you so much.

When his fingers are unsheathed from you, he has to have a taste, sucking in your juices and never finding himself disappointed with your natural essence. It’s then that he’s reminded of his own wants, feeling how painstakingly hard he is under his pants, and for once feeling such a strong urge to indulge in himself. He can see it in your eyes, you slowly coming back to reality as your breathing steadies, but your pupils still swirl with lust as he feels the perpetrator for this. Your hand against his erection, you rub at it with greedy need, a silent plea for him to be inside you.

Nanami’s a fulfilling man, always checking up on you, always making sure that he’s not making his job difficult, and always making sure that he’s filling you up when he’s got you in whatever position. With your back into the comfort of the mattress, your head pressed into the pillows, and your knees pressed into your chest as well, Nanami’s sure to make sure he fulfills his duty in making sure you’re well taken care of. Bed legs steady into the carpeted ground, when he presses into you, the sound of creaking very low, it’s this that he’s the most careful with. Yet, still making sure he’s done a satisfactory job in giving you what he wants.

Pulling at his blonde locks as you hide your face in his shoulders, you conceal your sounds into the crevice of his neck as your tears kiss his skin. He whispers, “I know, I know,” when he truthfully wants to apologize for having to hide you away. Why couldn’t you have met him prior to this job and shown him what love was about before being inaugurated into the White House? With a beauty like you and a mouth like yours, he was sure you would have called out to his soul then. Now, he yearns for more the same as you do, but even with all this power, he knows he’s got limited options.

“Kento,” you whisper into his shoulders, your pussy holding him in a visceral grip. He can feel himself twitch, his orgasm coming to follow in suit of yours.

“C’mon, love,” he egged you on. It was just the words you needed to cum once more, your hands shaking as your grip on him weakened. Your releases became one with each other, mixed in together as the both of you took a moment to recuperate. He could feel your heartbeat against his chest and you snuggled into him a little bit longer before you finally mustered up the strength to sit up. You searched for each article of clothing while something was nagging Nanami in the back of his mind.

“I was thinking of not going for another term,” Nanami knew better than to let you know this piece of information. He knew that you would talk him out of it, but he wanted to be honest with you, because that’s what relationships were about— honesty and so much more.

In a flash, nearly raising your voice, you cry out, “What? What— Why?”

“It’s pointless being here if I can’t be with you,” Nanami speaks candidly.

“Kento,” he didn’t like the tone you’d taken his voice in. You were half dressed, just needed to fix your blouse. “You didn’t become president to fall in love. You see, this is why I said no in the first place. We’ve gotten ourselves too wrapped up into this.”

“And I don’t regret it one bit,” he grabs your wrist, pulling you down to the edge of the bed. “I’ve done my major part and set my policies. The people are happy. I’ll be happy not going for a second term.”

“But, there’s still so much you can do,” you speak with so much passion. “There’s still so much I can see you doing. Yes, the people love you. That’s why you should keep on going.”

Nanami shook his head, and you could tell that he still needed some more convincing. No worries, because you started conjuring up a speech to give him for the very next day. Slipping off the bed, you kiss his cheek. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Good night.”

He sighs, knowing that you’d react this way. “Good night, love.”

When you had made your way through the tunnels and back to your office, Shoko was waiting by your office door. Right as you were about to call her name, making sure she didn’t see exactly where you came from, she turns around and bumps into you.

“Oh, Shoko—”

“Ah!” Steadying the girl, you look at her sheepishly.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Miss (Y/L/N),” she looks behind you, trying to decipher exactly where you came from. “Where were you? I’ve been looking everywhere.”

“Oh, I had just come from the bathroom,” you pointed back, thankful that there was one conveniently behind you. “Did you knock? I mustn’t have heard…”

Shoko gives you a once over, taking notice of your disheveled state, but making no effort to question it any further. “That’s fine. I just came to drop these off. This week’s reports on our total spending and how much stuff we used.”

“Thank you,” you take from her. Quickly, you throw your farewells to each other, Shoko lingering on longer than needed as you enter your office, but never outright saying anything. You let out a yawn, stretching out and your chest causing your shirt to rise, showing the misaligned buttons to protrude. You should’ve gone straight home, but before you called it a night, you overlooked the paper the head chef had given you, never anticipating what she would do.

“I had eventually convinced him to run for a second term, and he won,” you roll your eyes, stating the obvious. “But things fell shortly after when that article dropped, of course. Nanami came under fire for it, but there was no hard evidence of our relationship, it was pure luck that it never went to court. It should have, but we’re not getting into that conversation.”

Flashing your hand, to dismiss that can of worms, you sigh before continuing, “I felt so guilty for nearly tarnishing his career, but he assured me that everything would be fine. He ended up resigning in the end. He wanted me to follow him, but he knew that if I did, it would just confirm our relationship— what we are. And he knew that I loved my job. I loved being chief usher.”

“Then, why’d you quit so soon?” It had been confirmed that two years after Nanami’s resignation, you followed in it. It sparked another story, this one short-lived as people could only speculate. While the two of you had been a hot topic, press during the time didn’t run heavy. People could only skepticize that Nanami paid someone to have it that way.

“I loved being chief usher, but I don’t like a conniving bitch,” you pointed out. “Figured out who ratted us out— the head chef! She said she needed the extra money and she knew a journalist who made a hefty pay. It’s a shame because I liked her, but after that whole fiasco, she made my job a lot harder and it didn’t feel the same anymore. Looking back at it now, I was a bit naive to think that things would’ve run smoothly.”

While you said that this story would hopefully answer all of the questions they had, they didn’t. Truthfully, both Nobara and Yuuji’s minds were rattling with questions, wanting more answers. Nobara leaned closer to you, chest rising and falling in excitement. “Is it true that Nanami left you a lump sum of money before his passing?”

“Is it true that Nanami left me money—” You snorted, trying to contain your laughter. You thought this story was obvious enough to know where yours and Nanami’s relationship led to. Guess you have to spell everything out for this younger generation. “Baby, of course, he did. He’s my husband.”

Yuuji and Nobara’s jaw drops. They should have seen it coming, but they thought because of the lack of new information in the media coverage revolving around you and Nanami, there was no way that the two of you could be married. How did the two of you manage to cover so much up? Yes, the former president had so much power, but how could this have stayed in the dark for so long? You chuckled at their expressions. “It was hard keeping that under wraps, but we did. It was more so Nanami’s doing, of course.

“We planned on confirming everything sooner, when he was still here. He wanted to do it over a big baby reveal, but it turned out I was infertile and that killed that plan.”

Nobara reaches out her hand, placing it on yours. She whispers, “I’m sorry…”

You manage to conceal your look of despair quickly, fanning off the piece of information like it was nothing. “It’s fine, dear. I’ve long gotten over that. We realized that if we publicized our marriage, it would only lead to more public curiosity. While he was always going to be stuck in the limelight, it was nice having our story be some sort of mystery, you know?

“Though,” you jutted your bottom lip out. “It really wasn’t a mystery, but it sure did get under people’s skin that we neither confirmed nor denied it after all this time.”

“Why now though? Why after all this time?” Yuuji asks.

“Because I’m gonna die soon,” you explain bluntly, watching the journalists blink. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic! I’m old and we all die! The Earth’s gonna have me six feet under anytime now.

“Utahime!” you call. “I’m feeling peckish. Are you two hungry again? I can have Utahime fix us something very quick.”

The two of them decline your offer as you ask Utahime to make you a light lunch. Nobara knits her eyebrows together, tapping her pen against the notepad in a light rhythm. “Why’d you choose us specifically? Wouldn’t you have liked someone more professional and experienced to document this?”

“Because you’re both so young,” you smile. “When it was Nanami’s term, you lot were probably in middle school. I didn’t need any veterans telling my story. Theirs are boring, you young children got a certain spunk I like and I trust you’ll do my story some justice.”

This sparks a newfound pride in Nobara and Yuuji, making them feel like they’re at least doing something right in this career. “After all, I’m paying you guys a good $50,000 each!”

After asking you more questions and both of them actually taking up that offer to be fed some more, Nobara and Yuuji finally call it to an end. When they stand from the dining area, they feel lighter, a sense of clarity washing over them as they look at each. They had never agreed on how to approach a story, always finding a way to bicker about A, B and C. However, on this story that you were so willing to share, they silently agree on just how to approach things.

Like a good host, you bid them a farewell on their way out.

“It was nice meeting you,” Yuuji grins. Nobara nods in agreement.

“It was nice meeting you both,” you chuckle. “Feel free to stop anytime y’all want. It’s getting lonely with just me and Utahime all the time.”

They take you up on that offer, having to note down your address for later reference. Yuuji decides to go ahead, leaving Nobara alone to linger on a bit longer. You figure that she still has more to ask, so you wait.

“Can I be honest?” Nobara asks. You’ve quickly become a blueprint for how things should look for her love life, making her yearn for a relationship like yours. “I really hope to meet someone that makes me smile the way Nanami makes you. Your story’s the closest we’ve got to a real life fairytale in this country.”

You laugh at her comparison, your hand falling to Nobara’s shoulder as you grip it gently. “Dear, I’m sure you’ll find it. You’ve got a spark in you that reminds me of myself. If I was able to snag the president’s attention, I’m sure you’ll find someone that’s equally fulfilling.”

Nobara finally gives her goodbyes, heading to the car and jumping inside. With Yuuji driving this time, she rushes him. “Hurry up! I wanna get back and get started.”

“Alright, alright,” he huffs. “You were the one who took the extra minute to talk to her.”

“Shut up,” Nobara sneers, hearing the engine rev as Yuuji starts pulling out the driveway. When Nobara and Yuuji glance back at the entrance, you’re still there, watching them pull out safely. With a last wave goodbye, the journalists head back to their merry ways.

─────

THE TRUTH ABOUT FORMER PRESIDENT, NANAMI KENTO, AND FORMER CHIEF USHER’S, [YOUR FULL NAME], RELATIONSHIP

By Kugisaki Nobara and Itadori Yuuji | Jujutsu Kaisen Press | April 4, 2046 | 6:54 PM

On March 25, 2025 at approximately 1:04 p.m., an article had been released exposing a relationship that the nation saw coming, President Nanami Kento was in a secret relationship with his chief usher, [your full name]. It shocked the nation as people always questioned why a man like him wasn’t taken. Ever since the reveal of such intimate details being revealed, the nation and global sources all wanted to pitch in their two senses. However, despite the unconsented release of information from an anonymous tip, (or the former head chef at the time), President Nanami denied all claims of their relationship even happening.

We all knew that was a lie!

And we’re here to confirm that it was, in fact, a lie as the former chief usher, [your full name], has trusted us to report more intimate details of their relationship with the late president. You see, if it wasn’t love-at-first-sight like the initial story claimed it to be. No, it was more so… nuisances to lovers! Read more…

─────

“Kugisaki, Itadori.” A shaggy headed boy calls for their attention. Standing there, Fushiguro Megumi, stands there with his typical nonchalant expression. He points to his left, “Mei Mei wants to speak with the both of you.”

With their desks seated right next to each other, they both nod and head towards the pointed direction. They walk in silence, believing it was just another article they’d be assigned to cover when they entered the personal office. Yuuji knocks before being called in, the door creaking when opened. Mei Mei doesn’t look up, just telling the two of them to sit as she clicks away at the computer screen, multitasking.

“I’m very proud of you both for covering the former chief usher’s article,” Mei Mei praises all the while never looking at the two rookie journalists. “We got a lot of positive reviews about your writing. And while I don’t doubt that you two are a very talented pair, I still wonder why she chose the two of you.”

Finally does Mei Mei look at the two of them, eyes narrowing down in question. There’s a line of silence that’s suffocating, having the young adults shrug in question. Mei Mei sighs, pulling out two envelopes. “These were addressed to specifically go to you. A young woman with a scar across her face. Was really adamant on handing it to the two of you specifically, but you guys weren’t in. She reluctantly handed them to me after some persuasion.”

Mei Mei holds the envelopes within their reach, watching as they’re about to grab it before sliding her hand back. “I was this close to opening it myself, but I have integrity. Do you guys know what it could be?”

Truthfully, the two journalists had forgotten about your money-led promise, both shrugging their shoulders with honesty when they claimed that they didn't know what could be in the envelopes. Mei Mei knew the two idiots well enough to know when they were lying, utterly disappointed to see no crack in their facades. Giving up, she shoves the envelopes in their direction. She has a hunch on what they could be, but hoping that they’d both tell for themselves. Carefully opening the envelopes, Nobara and Yuuji are greeted with the pretty coverings of a card. Both saying ‘Thank You,’ they flip it open. Their eyes flash straight towards the black-ink inscribed into the cardstock paper, reading the heartfelt message left by you. At the end of the note, you ask them to be sure to visit soon.

It isn’t until they look to the right of the card, a check made out in their name with the promised $50,000 each. It takes everything in Yuuji to hold himself together, but Nobara lets out a gasp. Mei Mei leans into her seat, “What? What is it?”

“No!” Nobara bursts, standing up quickly to run away from the impending interrogation.

“Is it money?” Mei Mei asks, shooting her head towards Yuuji. Eyes widening, he stands up as he immediately shakes his head ‘no,’ heading straight for the door.

“I think Nobara and I are gonna take our lunch breaks early,” he says, his voice surprisingly holding up together before he dashes out of the office completely. Jumping to her feet, Mei Mei’s quick to chase after them, prompting Yuuji to grab a hold of Nobara’s arm once he catches up to her. They can hear their name being called as they make a run for it, running by their desks to grab their stuff and head right for the door. Nobara throws her keys to Yuuji, “You’re driving! You go faster!”

No need to debate, Yuuji hops into the driver’s seat as Nobara simultaneously gets in on the passenger side. When the engine revs, Mei Mei finally catches up. They can hear her shout, “Wait! How much did they give you? Tell me! I just want to know!”

When he backs out of the space, Mei Mei shouts, “You’re both fired if you drive away! You’ll be blacklisted from other companies, too!” Speeding down the street, Yuuji and Nobara are quick to call her bluff. Thirty minutes later, a message from Mei Mei: I’ve got another article I want you both to cover. Hurry on back.

sticky notes ⋆ in real life, nanami would have been bill clinton-ed, but in my world, that wouldn't happen.

subscriptions. @madwomansapologist @lilyreiz @lonelyblvd @ertheasss @surelynotagatha @uhhhtoji @lacey-blog @kiyoomisbimbo @izzyshitposts @voousmevoyez @erostexts @weaaa-mi @littlecloudy5725 @foreshadowedsu @entr4p3 @heyybaejjk @tsukuhoe @sunbrightheart @fairyjunni @leahuvz @zombriesworld @obessionofagrl @nanaumixluv @sleepyoneiroi @slutxxqueen @songmsblogg @sleepypulm @suhke3 @wisteriamoonie @vxrycooldude @savannaounana @s33v11k4 @myradiaz @luvvcho

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami kento fluff #nanami fluff #x reader #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami #tw: (n)sfw

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yanderestarangel · 1 year ago

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✧ HEADCANONS FNAF | SMUT VERSION | MIKE SCHMIDT

★ TW: afab anatomy, pet names, degradation, dom!mike, v!sex, rough sex, blowjob, overstimulation, little praise.

˚｡⋆.☆Do you want to make a request? Read my blog rules in the pinned post, comments and reblogs are welcome♡

★ A/N: some people asked me in inbox if I watched the fnaf movie and the answer is: yes! I watched it with my boyfriend and it was a lot of fun, so I decided to write something about Mike yey >ㅅ<

✧ 𑂴 🫧 Mike is a stressed man, with all the pressure of taking care of his sister, the nightmares and a bad job - which can consume a lot of his energy - he will just want to be in your arms at the end of the day and preferably, between your legs.

✧ 𑂴 🫧 Mike will arrive home tired, with a smell like men's cologne faint from the hours he spent at work, and a thin layer of sweat covering his face and back, while he desperately looked for you in every corner of the house, shouting your name. Schmidt won't even give you time to ration, as he lifts you onto the nearest firm surface and spreads your thighs - if you were wearing any shorts, he would desperately tear them off while he glues his face to your pussy, lubricating it with saliva and making circular movements with his tongue on your clit, enjoying every moan you made, every time you ran your fingers through his hair - pulling him even closer - Schmidt would moan against your sensitive flesh, looking you in the eyes before continuing to pleasure you.

✧ 𑂴 🫧 Mike will fuck you all over the house when Abby is out or at school - kitchen, living room, balcony or anywhere that is empty enough - covering your mouth with his hand, while he shoves his thick, pulsing length into you , without any protection. He's the type of man who likes to spill every drop of his seed into your womb, painting your spongy walls pearly white, while grunting and praising you, telling you how good your pussy is for his dick, he likes to call you a "hungry little slut" with each hot jet that comes out of him, while he smiles and growls when he sees your expression of lust.

✧ 𑂴 🫧 Mike will leave you breathless, pushing you against the cold bathroom sink as he forces you to look in the mirror, you can see the dark circles under his eyes, his naked body against yours, how his cock slides against your wetness easily as he grabs your chin with his fingers - putting enough force to turn the tips white - He would see every reaction, every moan or scream that came out of you through reflection, roughly grabbing your hip with his other hand. His balls would already be wet from your juices with his, while the sounds of skin against skin could be heard echoing out of the room. "-Yes...Ah- Fucking hell my darling, your pussy swallowing my dick... just like that, keep it up please." he moaned hoarsely, as he looked at the sight of your wetness swallowing and repelling his shaft, with each rough thrust he made. "-You're such a good little thing for me, I'm going to give you every last drop of cum, right?"

✧ 𑂴 🫧 Mike will make you get ready for him, putting on your best clothes, putting on perfume and makeup for him, just for him to fuck you doggystyle on the bed, pulling your hair to expose your neck while deeply marking your soft skin with his teeth - From the intensity of his hips, you could tell how angry he was at everything and everyone that night - you could hear him grunting and grumbling about some pay cut or how he didn't get a promotion to improve your life. He will take out all his anger on your pussy, leaving you a mess, your makeup was smudged, your clothes were messy or even torn in some corner of the room, you were at his mercy, while his fingers roughly rubbed over and over again on your clit - making a delicious combo with each violent thrust deep into your core. He will degrade you while fucking all your tight holes. "-You're my favorite slut." "-You asked for this didn't you? You're a needy whore for my dick- Mmm-" "-You're a cumdump for me, needy and a quivering mess for my dick."

✧ 𑂴 🫧 Mike will love putting you between his legs, your knees hurt from the weight and hardness of the floor. His dick pulsed as you forced yourself to swallow everything, looking at him relaxing with each provocative yet relaxing and hot movement, while the head of his dick beat rhythmically in your throat. The wet sounds and muffled moans about his member made him grunt, throwing his head back, grabbing your head with his left hand while his right hand held the side of the chair, he was going to encourage you to go deeper. "-Please baby, be a good boy/girl and make me cum... Swallow it all for me ok?"

✧ 𑂴 🫧 Mike loves lying in bed completely naked, with his cock exposed to you, while watching you rub your pussy over him, he would be sleepy and tired, but the sight of you rubbing your wet pussy over him, looking for a release for everyone Your repressed lust was enough for him to stay awake for up to a few hours, resting his hands on your hips and squeezing the soft flesh of your ass as he moved down. Their eyes would be seeing the cum leaking from the tip of his dick, his crotch totally dirty, as he smiled at you, closing his eyes. "-Keep having fun baby... I'm here for you."

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merakiui · 11 months ago

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winter woes.

yandere!jade leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, dub-con, breeding, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, implied stalking, obsession note - strangely, jade is thrown into his mating season in the middle of winter.

Jade thought it wasn’t so bad when he woke up in a feverish fog. He assumed it would dissipate once he got to moving, but it only seemed to worsen as the day wore on. He trudged through his classes with dimming focus, reasoning that if he wasn’t about to keel over and die he could survive a few hours of lecture.

It was fine. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He’s Jade Leech, Octavinelle’s talented Vice Housewarden! A masterful actor capable of brilliant efficiency, even when he’s at his lowest.

And yet he’s never experienced a day as detrimental as this one. He’s endured his fair share of sleepless nights, stagnant days, and monthly burnout. On some level, Jade suspected it was coming when the frost began to encroach on withered plants and leafless trees. He always finds himself bogged down with an annual case of winter woes.

This pattern of behavior isn’t any different.

Except it is. Very different, actually. Unlike his previous blues, this one is markedly unique. He’s never been this delirious before, so much so that he staggers about like he’s learning to walk all over again. Winter blankets the world in white, condemning Jade to what he believes is Mother Nature’s padded cell.

Without enough stimulation or spontaneity, how can he possibly function?

Normally, he’d take to trekking in the mountains to clear his head. The biting cold is familiar, a reminder of the comforts of home, but it doesn’t soothe him like it should. He’s restless and itchy, perpetually hot all over. His clothes aren’t helping either, clinging like seaweed. He wants to shred them to pieces and dive into the sea. Or hike in the mountains. Definitely one of those.

Alas, even if he wanted to scale a mountain, he couldn’t. Not when they’ve called for the possibility of an avalanche.

He is, unfortunately, stuck in the dreaded rubber room with his school uniform for a straitjacket. Only the room itself is made of ice, and it’s unpleasant and isolated. He’s left alone with his thoughts and they’re swirling around his skull in a flurry of snowflakes.

Clothes are truly unbearable… How can land-dwellers possibly endure such constrictive material?

Perhaps he underestimated his own mental fortitude. It’s bad. Very bad. So bad that he’s just as startled as you are when he crosses paths with you in the hall, catches the scent of your shampoo, and sprouts fins.

“Oh, Jade, your ears!” You’re gesturing at his face with worried urgency. He follows your line of sight and reaches to brush his fingers along the pointed webbing jutting out from the area where his ears ought to be. You take a step towards him and Jade, rather foolishly, takes one back. You blink at him, bewildered. “Is…everything okay? You seem under the weather. Want me to walk you to the infirmary? I’m going that way right now, actually.”

Jade wets his lips and swallows thickly. Did you always smell this nice? No… No, he has to focus! Right. Focus on the issue at hand. His transformation potion must be wearing off. Surely that explains the sudden surprise of… Your hips—were they always shaped so nicely, or is it just an illusion from your uniform slacks?

No, he’s sure of it. Something’s different about you. His nose wrinkles.

Sweeter. That’s it.

You smell sweet like a flower or candy. And your eyes are brighter in this light as they look up at him, glittering like pearls in the deep. You’re wearing the same uniform, but you’ve never looked more appealing. And your hips—

Jade curbs that thought before it can deteriorate his sensibility far past his control. What was the topic of conversation? It’s his turn to respond, isn’t it?

“I’m quite all right. Thank you for your concern. This is merely an error on my part. I’ve neglected the time.”

“Really?” You say it like you don’t believe him. Jade forces a smile, gluing his gaze to your face to avoid looking anywhere else. “It’s not like you to be so forgetful. Geez. Is Azul giving you a break over there?”

He chuckles. “I assure you all is well in my world.”

As it happens, his world is currently tilting and spinning and blurring, messy like a shaken terrarium. Jade’s attempt to excuse himself is made in vain, for he strides past you and immediately stumbles. You hurry to steady him, your fingers wrapped tight around his arm. Your touch sends an unusual electricity bolting up his spine, and suddenly he’s overcome with a wild urge. He wants to push you against the wall, slot his knee between your legs, and bite your lips bloody.

He could do it. He knows your preferences. He knows you like he knows his hand. Intimately acquainted, even if you’re not aware of your second shadow.

Jade yanks himself free as if the contact is scalding. His heart skips in his chest, frenzied in a way it’s never been before.

He’s had plenty of scandalous fantasies in passing, and he was content to leave them as such. But now…

Sweat beads at his brow and rolls down his back between his shoulders. He needs to shed these layers. A wildfire rages beneath his skin. It’s the middle of winter. Why is he so hot? Surely there’s a logical explanation for…you. Looking at him. You’re looking at him.

Oh, you’re so pretty.

“Jade?” You move in again, lifting your hand to his forehead. This time, before he can jerk backwards, you pull away. “You’re burning up!”

“Is that so? I must not have noticed…”

He has a quick-witted retort to tack onto that sentence, but it’s scrambled on his tongue.

“If I may, (Name), have you always looked so…”

He pauses, tasting the adjective in his mouth. He was certain humans didn’t have the same sort of broadcasters merfolk do—the shifts in behavior that allow for successful mating. Colors and sounds, a duet of language. Special scents and other bodily cues to convey secret messages. A mutual understanding between two. The need to fulfill a biological imperative beneath the sea.

Is that what this is about? He was certain his transformation snuffed that part of his biology. He’s not a mer right now. He’s human. So then why is he feeling so…not human?

Ready is the word he thinks he’s searching for, but he’s starving and so it comes out wrong.

“Ripe. Like fruit.”

“Uh… No?” You cough out an awkward laugh. If Jade could feel shame, it would be raking its nails across his back. “Are you sure you’re okay? You know what—don’t answer that. Let’s just get you to Professor Crewel. He’ll know what to do.”

Jade spies his reflection in a nearby window. The markings under his eyes are showing through pale skin. There are flecks of scales gathered on his forehead. Mindlessly, he reaches to touch them.

You turn to look at him, and he can parse the shift in your attitude like it’s blood in the water—deliciously potent. He wants to dig his claws into you and never let go. He wants to love you until the very feeling is muddled and you’ve lost sense of what’s healthy and sane. If only you could understand, peer through his eyes for the day, and navigate the labyrinth that is his heart.

“Jade? You coming?”

He already knows what’s happening. He doesn’t need the diagnosis from Professor Crewel. He just needs you.

Before you can continue onwards in your beeline to Professor Crewel’s office, Jade seizes your hand. You don’t flinch, but you do struggle to put your confusion into words. The feeling is almost palpable, clear on your countenance like a cloudless sky. He watches you, trailing his eyes over your face and finding new things to appreciate. If he allows delusion to grip him by the throat, he can pretend the makeup is all for him—a discreet, enticing signal.

He reads it. He listens. He knows, even if it’s the furthest from what he believes it to be.

Jade clasps his hands around yours.

“Um… Okay then.” Your shoulders shudder with laughter. “Is this really you, Jade? This isn’t Floyd putting on an act again, is it?”

He shakes his head, suddenly disgruntled. Why would it be Floyd? Do you want it to be Floyd? His grip on you tightens to a possessive degree. He steps closer, not yet pressing himself against you but edging dangerously close. He doesn’t speak a word when he opens his mouth at you, revealing pearly points set in razored rows. You don’t seem to grasp the meaning behind his gaping maw, and it’s somewhat disheartening.

Logically, he’s aware of your very human ideals—ideals that fail to encapsulate the intricacies of moray courtship. Still, he hopes the sentiment comes through.

“Something wrong with your teeth?” You tilt your head and squint up at him. “They look fine to me.”

Jade shuts his mouth, considering his options. It would be much easier if this was the sea. Then he could present you with hypnotic bioluminescence, drape a chain of sea flowers around your neck, and offer you an entire month’s worth of fish. None of that is very viable on land. At the very least, he could replicate it—take you in a dark room and hope the shine in his eyes is bright enough to entice you, conjure flowers with magic, and scour the Mostro Lounge’s storage for enough food to last you through the season.

Surely the desire I feel for you transcends the great depths of the sea. He breathes out a sad sigh. I want to make you mine. I want you to look at me in the same way I look at you. Won’t you do that for me? Please…

As far as he’s aware, humans follow their own palaver when it comes to romance and attraction. What he’s learned from his time on land is that human courtship is, by his comprehension, excessively complicated. While moray courtship has clear, defined goals, each one outlined in the body language of both parties, humans baffle with the time it takes to secure a mate. Jade watches students get together and fall apart within the span of weeks. It’s fascinating. Dating is almost like a trial run—like testing a new ingredient in a recipe to see if it sweetens or sours the overall dish.

He could have gone that route; he was fully prepared to, but the human and mer sides of his brain are leaving him in a daze. It’s impossible to think like a human when his mer instincts are vibrating so intensely beneath his skin, every part of his deep-sea biology saying he ought to do it the mer way.

So he opens his mouth again.

He’s cheating when he nods at you. Somehow you work out half of his intention.

“My mouth? What about it?” It hits you then, and your eyes widen into the shape of a full moon. “Oh! You want to compare teeth size, is that it?”

Not exactly what he was aiming for, but it has you reciprocating anyway. You open your mouth to show off your teeth, and if Jade was of a more stable mindset perhaps he would have been content to simply observe. He doesn’t expect land-dwellers to know anything more than what’s taught in class.

“What do you think? Mine aren’t as cool as yours,” you say after a moment.

“I think…” He hesitates. The words are jumbled, and he almost says it in mermish. But it’s difficult to produce the syllables with his limited nasal capabilities in this form. A smile curves his lips up, and it’s so similar to Floyd’s dopey grin that it leaves you slack-jawed. “Pretty,” he says with a happy hum. “Very pretty.”

Before you can respond, his hands slide away from yours to secure tightly around your wrists. And then he’s pulling you in the opposite direction, through the main building’s many halls, until he finally arrives at his destination.

You’re tugged into the Hall of Mirrors next. Jade seems to be losing his usual gentlemanly flair, for he issues you an apologetic chuckle as an afterthought. His mer features look more defined now—even his skin tone is darkening to suit the color palette of his mer form. You weren’t in objection before, but now that you find yourself being pulled through the mirror and trapped in the bubble transport with Jade you begin to worry.

“Hey, hold on a minute! Shouldn’t we find Professor Crewel? Your transformation potion—”

The sound of shredded leather disturbs the air. Jade lifts his gloved hands for both of you to survey. His claws have ripped through the material, and he’s grown webbing beneath the tattered remains of his gloves. When he reaches for you, you flinch away.

An uncomfortable quiet falls over the bubble, only bursting once you’re inside Octavinelle Dorm.

Jade’s heart aches when he spies the unease scrawled on your face. Don’t look at me like that. Please, my pearl, don’t fear me. I would never hurt you.

Is it so wrong to want to smother you in an abundance of love? If this kind of love is forbidden on the surface, how is he meant to exist in the same world as you? It was possible for the mermaid princess and her lover. Is this not the same? It’s just love. There’s nothing wrong with that.

Right?

He curls his hands into fists and hopes the stabbing pain of his claws piercing his palms is enough to quell the urge to hold you.

“J-Jade…” Your voice is meek, a mere wobble. “Are you okay?”

He blinks, suddenly aware that blood is oozing from open wounds. “Ah… Forgive me… I’ve shown you such an ugly side.”

“No, I’m sorry! It startled me, that’s all.” You attempt a brave, albeit flat, smile. “I’m not scared. Just…surprised. Is this how all merfolk get when they’re sick?”

Jade wants to understand, but he has never known dread like that before. He’s a predator. He doesn’t need to feel fear when he instills it in others.

Still, it bothers him more than he thought it would. If you fear him… If you can’t present him with a real smile…

Is there even a point if he’s not the reason for your happiness? What is he if not the blight that destroys your flowering radiance?

Without fail, like a cruel cycle destined to burden him, the winter weather evokes morbid gloom. It darkens his consciousness like a shroud over a corpse or a cover on a mirror.

If you’re not scared, why are you keeping your distance? Am I truly so monstrous that you feel the need to cower? My love is sincere. I promise I would never hurt you.

But he would, if given the opportunity. And that’s precisely what he plans to do now.

So it catches him off guard when you surge forward to lace your hands with his. Carmine drips from his claws, pattering the floor in tiny drops. He stares at you with pupils blown wide.

“You’re my friend. Why would I find this side of you ugly? Just because you’re not at your best doesn’t mean it’s weird or bad.”

And isn’t that the worst?

Jade’s lungs constrict when he kisses you. You try to jerk away, but he holds firm. Your lips part only briefly, and you manage a squeak of protest before he reclaims the space with ravenous intent. Your whines are swallowed whole as he all but devours your mouth like a famished animal. Sharp teeth click against your blunt ones. Jade laps at the back of your throat, savoring every gasp. You press against his chest in a weak struggle.

“S-Sto—wait. Jade—”

But even those words become appetizers for the feast that’s soon to follow.

It’s because I’m your friend that you place your trust in me. Thus, it will hurt all the more when I take that trust and crush it beneath my heel.

He’s never felt more alive, his body buzzing with exhilaration. When he pulls back, breathless and panting, you’re still reeling. He doesn’t give you any time to recuperate, for he tugs you along down the shadowed halls of Octavinelle.

You dig your heels against the tile. “Please wait! I don’t understand. What are you—”

You’re yanked forward again, and the rest of that sentence trickles into reserved silence. You hurry to keep pace with Jade as he drags you towards a door. A large indoor pool, dimly lit by the lights above, greets the both of you once it’s opened.

With furrowed brows, you glance at Jade. He’s looking right back, but it’s a strange gaze. He’s ready to pounce, just barely holding on to nonexistent restraint, every muscle riddled with tension.

“Sometimes we’re permitted to use this area for personal reasons,” Jade explains, shutting and locking the door with magic.

“Personal reasons… Like what?”

He smiles, watching the shiver roll though you. “Nothing against the rules, I assure you.”

“Right… Look, Jade, at the very least…” You wring your hands. “Um… Could you at least get in the water? I’m worried your potion’ll wear off any second now, and there’s no way I can lift you myself.”

“Your concern is much appreciated.”

He places one webbed hand on your shoulder, the other situated at your lower back. In one fluid swoop, he gathers you in his arms. You don’t have time to yell at him to put you down because he’s already striding over to the poolside.

“I do hope you’ll forgive my temperament. I confess I’m a touch impatient.” A lopsided smile strains on his flushed face.

“Jade, don’t you dare—”

Your scream cuts through the air, echoing off the walls. He tosses you into the water without decorum. Jade sheds what’s left of his already tattered uniform and dives in just as the rest of his mer features overtake his human shell. Salt sprays around you in a resounding splash when you, coughing and spluttering, break the surface.

Jade watches your feet kick back and forth as you paddle towards the edge. The motions are hypnotic. What pretty, fragile limbs…

Gliding through the water with minimal effort, he circles you like a moon hopelessly devoted to remaining within your orbit. His hand wraps around your ankle, and he pulls you beneath the water to meet him. You struggle in his grasp, kicking and thrashing, but he doesn’t let that deter him.

Jade cradles your face in his hands. “So pretty… Like a pearl,” he clicks, his words musical and foreign to your human ears. “My treasure.”

He captures your lips in a mystifying kiss. Clumsily, his deft fingers work to peel your clothes from your person. You push back just as your bra is unclasped, gasping for air, and he allows you to surface after nearly a minute. He comes up with you, drunk off the taste of you. The world could be ending just beyond the confines of this pool and it wouldn’t even matter to him. Not right now, at least. Not when he’s at the verge of vehemence. So close. He’s so close.

“W-What’s up with you?” You cling to the pool wall, chest heaving. He follows your hand as it moves to cover your mouth. “You’re not usually like this.”

“Does it bother you?” He swims closer, effectively pinning you to the wall. He presses his nose to the dip between shoulder and neck and hums. With a boyish giggle, he smiles again. “You smell so pretty…”

“Jade…” You pat his head. “Jade.”

“Hm?”

“I… I’m flattered. Really, I am. But we can’t do this.”

He detaches himself to look at you. “We can’t?”

This time, unlike in the past, he isn’t playing dumb for the fun of it.

“I’m sorry, Jade. I think you’re a great friend, but that’s it. I tried to tell you earlier, but you wouldn’t let me.”

So that’s how you feel.

He’s cold-blooded by nature, but somehow this confession chills him more than the Northern waters ever could.

Just a friend.

“Ah. Is that so? My apologies for overstepping a boundary.”

You turn towards the wall to hide your exposed chest. “I-It’s fine…”

He admires the water droplets cascading down the slope of your shoulders. Winter woes and mating season make for a devastating combination, and Jade is the tsunami who will tear through you with reckless, remorseless abandon.

A clawed finger taps at your cheek. Defiant, you keep your gaze pinned ahead. “Are you, by chance, embarrassed?”

“O-Of course I am! Please close your eyes and don’t peek until I’m out of the pool.” With one arm held over your chest, you fish through the water in search of your waterlogged clothes.

Jade takes hold of your empty hand, marveling at how small yours is compared to his. So precious. I could hold this hand forever…

“There’s no need to be shy. Nudity is commonplace where I’m from.”

“Well, it’s not like that up here. Not always, at least.” You swallow thickly. “Please don’t look…”

“That’s tantamount to asking someone not to admire artwork in a museum.” Gently, he coaxes you away from the wall and into his chest. “You deserve to be cherished in full. Is that not why land-dwellers sculpt the human body?”

“That’s different!”

“How so?”

Please, (Name), you’re driving me wild. Please just let me love you. Please. It’s all I want.

“Most of them are representations of deities and other important symbols.”

“In that case, I am but your humble devotee.”

You roll your eyes. “Flattery doesn’t work on me.”

“No? Then how about this instead?”

Jade turns over on his back in the pool. You’re tugged along for the ride, settled on his chest like a turtle resting on driftwood. His arms wrap around you. Stubborn—an adjective known to describe Jade on occasion.

“Now I won’t see a thing.”

His smile is too cheeky for your liking, but that’s the last thing you’re thinking of. His hands creep down the expanse of your back. You yelp when he squeezes your asscheek.

“H-Hey! Watch where you’re touching!” Your expression is meant to be threatening, but all it does is earn you a gentle laugh.

“Forgive me. My hand slipped.”

“Yeah, right. You’re not slick.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a retort. Instead, he floats aimlessly on his back. You press yourself to his toned body and silently hope he can’t feel your hardened nipples.

“Can you bring me back to the edge?”

“I can.”

Just not the edge you’re thinking of.

“Will you?”

“Eventually.”

It’s spoken like a promise, a sweet sigh. You don’t believe him for a second.

Once more, his hand dips lower than it should to rub against your bare pussy. You flinch out of your skin, sucking in a deep breath. His whimsical laughter is more grating than nails on a blackboard.

“Oops.”

You want to throw yourself into the water, but that would risk giving him an unintentional show and that’s the last thing you want. So you squeeze your eyes shut and, body taut, lie still.

“Can you—will you tell me what’s going on?”

“I will.”

You wait for him to continue, but he chooses to bask in the silence instead. If you weren’t trapped in his embrace, you’d throttle him. Or try to, at least. He’s all muscle in this form, and it would be so easy for him to subdue you if he felt so inclined. The result of a wrestling match with a moray isn’t exactly in your favor.

Groaning in defeat, you play right into his game: “Can you tell me?”

“Allow me to show you.”

He propels himself backwards, his tail fin cutting smoothly through the water. You’re taken from the shallows to the deepest end of the pool. His hands find your waist and, with startling ease, he helps you up so that you’re sat just above his slit. It brushes against your pussy every time you shift. Minding his claws, he digs his fingers into your thighs to keep you still. You hurry to cover yourself with your arms, hoping to preserve what’s left of your decency.

“Many mers prefer spring and summer climates.”

“Because the water’s warmer?”

“That’s part of it.” His hands crawl up your waist to close around your arms. Gently, he pulls them away from your chest. His eyes stick to your breasts, but you can’t muster the courage to fight him. “The water is warm and food is plentiful. The perfect time to find a willing mate.”

“So this is—you’re in…heat, basically?”

“It’s rather unbearable if left untreated.”

“You say that like it’s an illness…” Shaking your head, you sigh and offer a sympathetic grimace. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t think I can help. I don’t know the first thing about moray mating!”

“I wouldn’t say that. You possess all the proper equipment. It’s merely a matter of body language, really. Think of it like dancing,” he assures, petting your inner thigh. You watch his fingers inch closer and closer to your pussy, and with an embarrassed gasp you place your hand over it. “Won’t you be a dear friend and help a poor moray in need? I would be very grateful to have your assistance. In fact, I would be in your debt. Isn’t that most advantageous?”

“No way! Ask someone else.”

“I would if I could, but this isn’t the type of issue one can treat so carelessly. Selecting a mate is of great importance in the sea.”

“So go to the sea and do it.”

“We’re already there.” He chuckles at the dubious glower you give him. “As it happens, Octavinelle’s surrounding territory is entirely oceanic. How fortunate for us.”

“Why does it have to be me?”

My dear pearl, I treasure you something fierce, but you’re wearing my patience painfully thin.

“Why not?”

“Didn’t you just say picking a mate is super special?”

He hums, wondering if you’re feigning ignorance for the sake of the situation or if you’re genuinely this lost. It’s likely the latter. After all, you accepted his invitation to mate without even knowing it.

“It’s a special occasion, yes. Many mers have new partners every summer. Sometimes they remain and other times the tide carries them along, bringing in new opportunities with every changing season.”

“And finding the one who sticks is the goal?”

“For some of us.”

“So what about you?” You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious. “You’re speaking for everyone but yourself, Jade.”

Jade flushes. Your perceptive words are pointed, stabbing through thick skin to reach his heart. It isn’t often someone parts all of his curtains to peer at the truth.

“I would like that,” he admits, soft and sweet, almost demure. “Someone who sticks, as you’ve put it.”

You watch his face carefully, but there’s no lie to find. With his pinched brow and shimmering coloration, so much so it’s as if he’s been set aflame, you steel your nerves. He brightens the dark pool with his light, a beacon on still waters. Jade looks right back. The eye contact is heady—more hypnotic than a swaying pendulum. He waits for you to make the first move, as is customary in his courtship, but when you don’t react he begins to suspect it’s the opposite for yours.

But then you find your voice. So words are valued in human courtship. I see…

“If I help with this… W-What exactly happens? What does it mean?”

Jade knows his pearl isn’t stupid, but sometimes he really has to wonder.

“It means—” he takes the hand that had been previously protecting your nudity and pulls it away, fingers intertwining— “we would copulate like every animal does.”

“I… I’m not sure.”

“I’ll be very gentle.”

“Still…”

“You have my word.”

“I know. I understand. But—”

“It’s my first time as well.”

You stare at him, astounded by the revelation. “Really?”

“Indeed. So I ask that you forgive my boorish insistence. I’m usually very prepared for my season, so it’s a shock it’s come so early.”

“Yeah, that’s weird. I wonder if it’s because you’re a human. Maybe something with your transformation?” Your breath catches in your throat when he presses two slender fingers against your clit. “H-Hold on… If you touch there—”

Jade’s mismatched eyes sparkle when he looks at you, wet with tears. “Please,” he murmurs, resting his head back against the water. “Please, (Name)…”

You’ve never known Jade to cry or beg outright, let alone utter that single word in such a submissive tone. He’s so vulnerable, an image curated for this very occasion. Not that this is imperative information you absolutely must know.

With slumped shoulders, you glance elsewhere. “I’m not so sure…”

Jade considers himself fortunate to have his wits about him, otherwise he would have already had you plastered to the pool tiles, his cock thrust up in your tight pussy.

“I understand my size in this form may seem rather intimidating, but I’m still myself.”

“I know. But…”

“You can lead. I’ll follow. Almost like a dance.” Taking hold of your hips, he rocks you back and forth as if you’re a doll. Your cunt brushes against his slit and, though it isn’t nearly as euphoric as the actual ordeal, it still sends a wave of carnal relief washing over him. He hums pleasantly, gills fluttering. “Mhm… Like so. It’s simple, isn’t it? Nothing to fear.”

You place your palms against his chest to brace yourself. A reedy breath shakes through you. Jade can see the gears turning. And—oh—how he wishes to be able to poke around your head to understand what it is you’re working through. He’s certain he’d be walking on air if he could hear your innermost monologues: To love or not to love Jade Leech… Or, at present, this would be a better and very humorous phrasing of your secret dialogue: To fuck or not to fuck Jade Leech…

Even if you don’t love him now, you will later. Just as all life in his terrariums inevitably blooms, so, too, will your affection for him. Patient and persistent care will get him far. He’s sure of that.

You shiver above him, face scrunched and bottom lip bitten to muffle your musical moans. He doesn’t bother hiding his very obvious enjoyment as he guides you along until, eventually, your hips move on their own accord. You grind down against his slit, panting wetly, and he watches your lashes flutter, beautiful like butterfly wings. He admires the divine softness of your nudity, picturesque like that of the Renaissance.

No matter how delicious you are on the eyes, how electrifying it is to have your body pressed to his, it’s still not enough. Jade has half a mind not to buck up to meet your dripping pussy halfway, even if his every sense is telling him he should. Too much force and he’d throw you off into the pool; there’s no telling what he’d do if you were in the water, fully at his mercy. So he allows you to have your fun, deems it polite that you find your end first before he follows. He has to remind himself that you’re not a mer and, thus, you won’t find it very appealing if he succumbs to animalistic urges.

Humans like gentle creatures. Jade is not a gentle creature by nature, but he enjoys masquerading as one.

If it were up to Jade, he would have just taken you for himself ages ago. The minute you looked him in the eyes, he would have grabbed your face in both hands and yanked you up to smash his mouth to yours. And then you’d know there’s more beyond that curtain of placidity.

But that’s not the approach he wants to take.

What he really wants, right now and in this moment, more than anything, is to be inside you, pump you so full of himself that you’ll feel bloated like a whale carcass. Sink his teeth in your throat and taste the blood puddling beneath. Chew you out like you’re nothing more than a squeak toy and he’s your wildly disobedient dog. Dig his claws into your thighs until red ribbons slide down broken skin and cloud the water.

Your yelp brings him back to the present. For a strained second, he thinks he’s hurt you—gone too far and chased you away before the game could even begin. But the source of your startled reaction is easy to pinpoint, for it’s currently prodding at your folds.

“W-What’s that?” you ask around another gasp.

More of Jade’s prehensile cock wriggles free from the safety of his slit. He squeezes his eyes shut to collect himself, hissing through his teeth.

“Most mers are equipped with—mmh—with both sets of…anatomy…” His mind is whirling. He can’t finish that thought. Does it even matter? You’ll understand without the explanation. “It won’t hurt… You can touch it.”

You shake your head and—sevens, you’re lucky he loves you so much or else he wouldn’t have the foresight to be mindful of your inability to breathe underwater. What he’d give to take you below the surface and ignore the world passing above—to spend what little eternity he has rutting into you, tails twining, mouths meeting…

“I shouldn’t… T-That’s your…thing.”

He wasn’t sure you could get cuter, but you do. Surprises are endless with you. He could never tire of this.

“Of course it is. How else am I to copulate without it?” he replies smartly. “It’s called breeding season for a reason, my dear.”

You lift your hips slightly to avoid the tip searching for a home within your gummy depths. Panic paints itself on your face. “W-Wait! You can’t—”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself moments ago. I promise you this will feel even better once it’s inside.”

“That was before I—b-before you…” You swallow thickly, stumbling over your tongue. “There’s no way I can—it looks…too big.”

“Any size is going to seem so if you’ve never taken it before.”

Jade presses two fingers inside your pussy and spreads it. Slick strings from the opening, coating his digits in your arousal. You stiffen and hide behind your hands.

Aah, if only I could devour you right here and now… You’re just too adorable. Are you doing this on purpose?

“You needn’t fret. If my fingers slide in like so, then I’m certain it will be the same for my—”

“I don’t know how mers do it, but if it’s anything like humans…” You shake your head again, adamant. “I don’t wanna get pregnant.”

That’s unavoidable, he wants to say, but that would serve to scare you away.

“We’re incompatible.” Even I’m not certain of that, but it must be false if the mermaid princess could start a family with her human. “Therefore, the risk is nonexistent.”

“Are you sure?”

Not in the slightest.

“Quite.”

Apprehensive, you still refuse to lower yourself onto him. He’s aching, desperate and near-deranged from waiting, and if he were still in his human form he’d be sweating out of his skin. Jade grabs your hips again and, somewhat forcefully, brings you down to meet his tip.

“Please,” he stresses, putting on his best, most convincing pout. “Please, (Name), won’t you help me? I fear I can’t endure any more of this torture.”

You open your mouth, but a trembling breath slips out in place of a protest. Jade’s cock presses against your pussy, gradually delving inside. You almost flop on top of him, the air knocked out of your lungs as he spears you open. Jade grits his teeth. His claws rake across your sides. He has to remain calm, but how can he do that when he’s finally inside you after months of fantasizing? He knows now that his hand could never act as a substitute for the real thing.

To think he was missing something as grand as this all along! No amount of warmth could ever compare to you. You’re an angel who’s just taken him to Heaven.

You gasp again when he slams you down without warning. “Ooh…”

He heaves a shaky, satisfied sigh. Tears dot his lash line. He’s never known relief so strong. It wraps tightly around his cock, squeezing like a vise. If not your mind, your body definitely agrees to this connection. You’ve taken him so well. Surely you wanted this all along. It was just convoluted courtship, a messy tangle of misunderstanding. You want him to knock you up—to stuff you over and over until you can’t fit anything else.

Oh, if only he had eggs. If only he could give you a clutch.

Next time, he thinks, and he means it.

“See?” he says, finding his voice. It comes out breathless, like he’s just been squeezed dry. Not yet. Soon, though. He’s sensitive, and it betrays whatever image he hoped to curate by seeming unbothered. You’re supposed to fall apart first, yet here he is on the verge of coming undone. “You’ve fit every inch. I surmise you could fit even more.”

“I don’t want to!” You lift your body, but it’s a silly endeavor. His cock twitches and curves up against your walls. You and Jade groan in unison, your eyes squeezed shut. “We should’ve just gone to—haa—Professor Crewel and let him handle this…”

“Magical intervention would only pause the inevitable. These cycles are easier to manage as they happen. And this—” he helps you grind down against him, to which you do with startling obedience (but then perhaps he’s just strong enough to manhandle and pretend it’s compliance)— “is the best medicine.”

His webbed hand closes around one of your breasts. It’s soft and springy in his grasp. He pinches your nipple experimentally, and you clench around him.

“Ah, do you like being touched here?”

“Mmh—no… Not there. Don’t—ooh!”

“Or perhaps here?” he asks, circling your clit.

“Stop—you can’t…”

“But I already am.”

You muster the energy to glare halfheartedly, but it soon unravels when he drags you up and down once more. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, every lewd, wet slap an addition to your cries. Jade wonders if this is what true inner peace is, for he’s never been more elated. So utterly, indescribably relieved.

You’re just what he needs to weather this cruel winter.

Jade’s mind, once so organized, is a chaotic scramble. You’ve always occupied a majority of his thoughts, but now you’re made front and center. Everything revolves around you at this moment. He even tries to sync his breathing with yours, if only to feel closer to you. As if this bodily connection isn’t already close enough.

You happen to glance at him then. There’s a glaze to your gaze that wasn’t there before. He admires the way it makes you look—the softness in your eyes and the subtle part of your lips. You appear so blissful while you rock yourself on his cock, dragging your hips in jerky motions. He doesn’t think twice about the sloppy nature of your union, for he moves with a singular goal in mind.

He reaches without meaning to, searching for your heartbeat so that it can align with his, and you squeak in surprise when you’re pulled against his chest. Jade’s reminded you’re not a mer when he tries to wrap his tail around your nonexistent one, feeling legs kick out instead. Just like that, ripples run across tranquil waters as you’re flipped over.

Ah. I was too hasty.

You break the surface, coughing and spluttering. He mourns the disconnect immediately, yearning for your warmth again. When he comes up to join you, he’s met with a splash.

“A-At least warn me before you do that!” You mumble the rest of your disappointment, but Jade’s keen ears pick it up anyway. “I didn’t even get to finish…”

Jade chuckles and wipes water from his eyes. His face is bright, burning with joy. “My apologies. I may have gotten carried away.”

“Obviously.” You huff. “Now can you bring me to the edge?”

He winds around you. “It would be my pleasure.”

You’re pressed against the pool wall, legs spread and wrapped around his waist. He braces himself on either side of you, his fingers curling around the ledge. With how strong his grip is, it’s a shock the tiles haven’t cracked under the pressure. You avoid his stare while he pushes in. He listens to your breath stutter, and that’s all it takes to shatter his self-control. He draws away, savors the confusion polluting the air, and then snaps his hips forward to fill you with every inch of his strange, inhuman cock. A strangled moan rips from your throat and you throw your head back, deflating flatly against the floor.

Jade’s brows knit together. He bows his head, gasping into your neck. His teeth are centimeters from unmarked flesh. He wants to bite you, but the sensation of your velvety walls wrapped around his cock is so distracting. He thinks he might faint. It feels too good. So warm. So wet. So tight. Is this really what humans feel like on the inside? Are they always so soft? He feels boneless as he rolls his hips, numb and dumb, mindless like an animal.

That’s really all he’s ever been: an animal enthralled, his sights forever locked on you. He’d do anything to get you to look at him.

Your arms snake around him, and you cling so sweetly, your nails scraping at his back, that he almost cums right then. Your voice is in his ears, wanton and whispery.

“J-Jade… Aah, Jade…” You hold firmly, unyielding, and chant his name like it’s something holy. “Oh, please, Jade!”

You were so averse before. Now look at you. You’re so cute. The cutest, in fact. I want to make you mine and lock you away forever. Your voice, your body, your smile, your everything… It would be mine to admire. A fascination reserved specially for me.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” he asks, tracing your cheek with a claw.

A fond smile graces his face. You blink up at him. Tears track down your cheeks, but he knows they aren’t woeful. You’re enjoying this just as much as he is. You want him. You like him. You have no choice.

“Feels full…”

“Does it?”

“Mhm.”

That angelic smile fades into something wicked and proud. Full. You’re full. Full of him and, very soon, full of as many loads as he cares to give.

His hand dips between your bodies to nudge at your clit. You choke around a bawdy moan. If he fools himself, he imagines your parted lips are mirroring the same invitation he voiced to you earlier. Maybe it really is. Maybe you’ve finally understood this facet of his language.

Hypnotized, Jade watches your lips. He doesn’t even register he’s leaning in. You struggle somewhat, but he just kisses you harshly. His tongue slithers past your lips to explore the insides of your mouth, prodding at the back of your throat until you’re digging your nails into his shoulders.

I love you. I love you. I love you and need you and want you. You’re all mine. Finally mine.

Saliva dribbles from your lips when he pulls back. His eyes are blown wide.

All mine.

When he leans in for another kiss, this one more dizzying than the last, he presses his hips to yours, aiming to get as close to your womb as possible. He needs to. Needs to be deeply acquainted with your insides. Needs to flood your empty womb with enough cum to guarantee pregnancy. Needs to knock you up and watch you swell with his child so that you’ll be even softer than you are now. Oh, the beauty of it all is too tantalizing! You’d look so cute, maternity wear stretched taut around your gravid belly. And your tits would grow fat and heavy with milk. He can already picture it: You’d fluster when you leak through your shirt, even more so when he takes your teat in his mouth and drinks his fill. He wonders if you’d call him gross, a pervert, a freak… Would you do so if he asked?

Would you hate him if you knew all of the depraved fantasies that flit around in his head?

Maybe. The lack of linear clarity excites him. Endless possibilities. He wants to know all of them.

He wants to—

With a wheeze, he cums quick and hard, lashes fluttering and vision whiting out. Your body flinches beneath him, caught in the throes of pleasure as you, too, ride out an orgasmic wave.

He comes to moments later, his heart racing, and rests his forehead against yours.

“That’s…it, right?” you mumble, running your fingers through matted hair. “It’s over, isn’t it?”

Jade tries a shy smile. “On the contrary, we’re only just beginning. A mer’s season isn’t over until they’ve emptied everything, heart and soul, into their mate.”

Can he really call his dick his heart and soul? Maybe. It sickens him with a wild delight.

No matter how many rounds, he’s going to love you until you’re thoroughly worn out.

You don’t have a choice.

But then you already love him, don’t you?

You will by the end of this.

And suddenly he doesn’t feel so bad anymore. Suddenly, he’s no longer embroiled in the sticky shackles of winter woes.

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