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ken-jaku · 5 months

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pretty nose, pretty boy. zayne from love and deepspace

there's a huge chance my phone may have distorted the quality to make it look like he has a dorsal hump but idc! i like the idea of it sm that im gonna lie to myself!

content warnings. suggestive content (smut), pussydrunk!zayne, both fem!reader and zayne are virgins, fingering, oral via face riding, zayne has a dorsal hump, semi!public sex (at akso hospital for the plot😼). vague mentions of zayne's asphyxiation kink, brief mentions of pining, nervous/anxious reader. verbal consent (zayne strictly wants words, no hums or nods). zayne is naturally dominant in this... idk what came over me. overstimulation. cumming right after an orgasm cause "love knows no bounds" :D mention of jealousy towards rafayel. reader has doctor/patient kink? all this on the first day of dating is crazyyy shit writing, haven't published anything since 2016 and that was a 5 chapter, 300 words each, wattpad story on hanahaki💀 huge chance i might edit this again later

word count. 5.09k words

"zayne?" your words are almost like a whisper as you squirm on the couch, impatience and anxiety riddling you as you can't wait to get dinner and execute your plan of either a.) finally getting a longer kiss compared to the two-second one you had earlier or b.) getting said kiss and have him hang out for a few more minutes after he walks you to your apartment. your boyfriend of just a few hours, which still feels rather unreal, sat across the room from you, hard at work. his long, scarred fingers tap away at the keyboard before him. a soft, short hum leaves his lips in acknowledgement of you.

said hum goes, unintentionally, ignored as you couldn't stop staring at him. the way his long eyelashes gently graced his lids, his nose twitching ever so slightly to shift his glasses as he focused on the computer screen. his beauty- his very being was captivating.

you never noticed it before but his nose had a small, almost unnoticeable, dorsal hump. soon enough, your mind went where no one's should be, especially on the day you confess and start dating. you wanted to fuck his face, plain and simple. sure, it was a bit too soon to have those thoughts but, really. who cares? you cuffed a pretty man with a pretty nose- you just can't help yourself!

"are you alive over there?" your physician's monotone voice almost makes you jump, "you've been staring at me for quite a while," his voice now laced with faux concern, "i couldn't get your attention for almost a minute."

you clear your throat, smoothing out your dress as you stand up. your fingers picked at each other as you got closer to him. zayne's mind drifts briefly from the task at hand as he watches you through the corner of his eyes, taking in the long silk sundress you chose to wear. the dress hugged all the right places and was quite flattering on you. for it to be the first formal piece of attire he'd see on you- it was like a blessing.

"when are we gonna leave? our reservation's in thirty minutes." you sigh, leaning over his desk and taking a peek at his computer before ultimately resting your head on the wooden surface, staring at his hands as the unfamiliar terms and long words on the screen annoyed you to no end.

"soon, my love, and stop hurting yourself. we won't be late." he places his left hand in yours, eyes not leaving the screen before him as he holds his breath in your presence. that was the end of it. you knew him well enough to know that. your begging would only result in the same monotone voice, the only difference being the almost unnoticeable annoyance that laced his words. it made no sense to fight back. you struggle not to release another sigh, your eyes never leaving the handsome man in front of you.

well, at least he has his beauty going for him despite being strict.

your hand reaches up to his face, delicately tracing the lines of his nose, following the curve of his high nose bridge upwards with your finger. just as you barely tilt his glasses, he stops you— his large, cold hand gripping your wrist. the interaction sends shivers down your spine as his eyes stare into yours with an intensity that leaves you wanting.

zayne finally lets out a breath, "is there something on my face for you to be staring at it for so long? the more you distract me, the longer this will take." your nickname follows— the word leaving his mouth sweetly in comparison to the others.

a murmur leaves your pretty, glossy lips, having swiped your tongue over them one too many times in the past three minutes, "you just have a pretty nose..." you trail off.

your physician tilts his head, eyes never leaving your face as he reads your body language. you were nervous- that was obvious but you were also hiding something, "what do you like about it?"

your cheeks feel warm and you find yourself averting his gaze as your head leaves the desk, the area now occupied with your elbows, "you have a dorsal hump."

he hums, "that i do... is that all you like?" your breath hitches and you cross your legs.

planting your palms on the wooden surface, you quickly attempt to rise from the desk only to find yourself being pulled back into place. zayne had dragged you back to him with the same singular hand that gripped your wrist. he was enjoying this, you could tell. it was never in his nature to pry so deeply even when it pertained to him so to see him show his true colours the day you begin dating...

"zayne..."

"come here." he hoarsely whispers as he stands up, taking a step closer to you before pulling you towards him, closing the distance between you two. his hand finally lets go of your wrist, opting to place both of them at the sides of your body, resting them on the desk behind you. you feel yourself leaning further against the table as he gets closer, until eventually, you find yourself almost sitting on it. he had you trapped.

zayne sighs, his head now resting on your shoulder as you eye the way his hand moves. just barely brushing your hip, he slides his hand down from your lower arm into your palm. one thing about zayne: he frequently has dreams about you- perverted ones at that. he was never proud of them but, god, did he indulge in them whenever they came along. you'd walk around the hospital every week, clueless about how he wished to secretly take you, not in front of everyone, though- he wants it to be away from prying eyes, but never prying ears.

while roaming akso and attending to duties, he'd regularly spot you in the corner of his eye- he doesn't like to admit it but he does make an attempt to cross paths with you at least once before seeing you in his office when you come for appointments. in your little skirt, you'd bend down to receive the same drink from the same secluded vending machine- the plush of your thighs on display for him to see. the sight would always leave his throat dry as he either speaks to you, forcing himself to let go of all the lewd thoughts and have a proper conversation, or he turns around quickly, as if he'd committed a sin, only to come back to that very same area every two weeks to commit the same act.

sometimes, just as he's about to address you, he hears your friend calling out to you with a sulky demeanour. it was always that same friend named rafayel too, never anyone different. deep down, he wishes for that kid to stop clinging to you like a lost puppy, showing up at akso, begging for your attention as he claims he fell down the stairs or got a cramp in his finger. he also occupies a hospital bed from time to time by admitting himself when he really doesn't need to but that's the least of zayne's grievances with him. zayne's always dreamed of wanting everyone, especially rafayel, to know you're his. and now that you two are dating, he's one step closer to said desire.

you feel two pecks on your shoulder blade and one on your palm. he brings your hand up to cup his cheek, "tell me what else you like about my nose, (name)." his tone was more commanding than anything, seemingly laced with jealousy and annoyance- not towards you, of course- never towards you. he'd never spoken to you that way before but, god, do you like it.

you watch as his fingers graze yours softly, his eyes only ever leaving yours when he closes them, revelling in the warmth your hand brings his cold, freezing body.

"i... " you feel his knee grazing your thigh as you try to spit something out.

"you can say it. no matter how vile and vulgar your thoughts may be... i want you to say it," after reassuring you, he asks once more, "what else do you like about my nose, (name)?"

a soft gasp leaves your lips as you feel his knee push further up your dress, "say it," he whispers, his lips now grazing your ear as his hand reaches for the back of your neck.

"i love how easy it looks to ride, zayne, fuck-" your words get muffled as zayne kisses you intensely. the feeling has you dizzy as the farthest you've gotten were the pecks initiated by you earlier that day and the ones he initiated just a few minutes ago.

his other hand grips your waist tightly as he presses himself into you further, his hands now the only thing keeping you from falling back onto the table. with the way he handled you, it was like he couldn't get enough. your very scent allured him.

"is this okay?" his lips withdraw yours as he begins leaves pecks on your cheek and neck as he awaited your response.

a nod and hum left you as you stared at the windows, looking at the reflection and taking pleasure in the way he kissed your body. but he stops.

as you were about to turn to him and ask what was wrong, a strict stare was all it took. his brownish-green eyes pierced into yours in the reflection of the glass. his eyebrows raised as he waited for something from you. he wanted words. he needed to hear, through proper verbal communication, that you wanted this.

"yeah..." you sound almost breathless facing him, "yeah, i wanna do this."

a small smile reaches his lips before he kisses you again. more deeply, more lovingly. he was relishing in your very being. the girl who he'd pined for was finally his after fifteen long years.

the hand gripping your hip would soon spread around your waist as the other rested on the fabric covering your thigh—a fabric that he would push up in annoyance as he needed to feel you bare.

his thumb would involuntarily twitch, grazing and pushing at your cunt as he squeezed and rubbed the plush of your inner thigh, the cold pressure being felt through the sheer panties you wore had you shivering.

"zayne.." your impatience was getting the best of you and zayne could see it. he chuckles as he bunches your silky sundress up at your waist and hooks his long pointer and index fingers around the last piece of fabric that bars you from him- teasing him with the dampness that left it looking a deeper colour than usual.

before he can ask, you give him the confirmation he needs, raising your hips, "take it off... please?"

he obeys, a little too willingly as if his patience was also wearing thin, and a soft 'fuck' leaves his lips as he stares at your dripping cunt, the vulgar word shocks the both of you.

he can only chuckle as he eyes the dress straps that had fallen off your shoulder, "the things you do to me." ever so slowly, his cold hands push the straps further down, pulling your arms from out of it. your breasts were now on display for him as the dress slid down, grazing your sensitive nipples in the process and stopping at your diaphragm.

you look away, gnawing on your lip. it set a weird feeling in your stomach knowing he was fully dressed in his doctorly attire while you were bare, exposed for him to see- for him to examine. you feel his hand rest back on your cunt, the other hand grasping your chin to look at him. he wasn't overly rough but the hold was quite strong and decisive. every breath and movement from zayne exuded dominance.

"don't hide from me, pretty girl, you know better than that." the pet name has you shuddering, paired with the fact that he began to gently prod at your entrance with his index finger before allowing you to suck him in completely, his thumb softly touching your clit occasionally as he inspects you.

his lips find yours once more, his tongue prodding your mouth and you can't help but whine at the feeling as he slowly introduces another finger. with every touch from him, you feel your breath leaving and your hands gripping harshly at the edges of the tables, almost piercing your skin.

zayne eventually touches something. something that leaves you even wetter than before. his fingers prodded and rubbed at you- at that spongy spot in your cunt that's been begging to be touched by him for a while.

"oh, wait- fuck!" you break the kiss as an involuntary hiccup leaves you. zayne grunts in annoyance, pushing lips back onto yours in an instant- his fingers increasing in momentum as he targets that pleasurable spot.

you find yourself sliding off the edge of the table as your body trembles with every thrust. despite still gripping the table, you almost collapse onto your knees if not for the man in front of you catching you. all while holding you, zayne doesn't let up- the squelching sounds your wet entrance makes flood the room, fueling him to keep going. he was so hell-bent on making you cum one way or another.

"c'mon, be a good girl for me. do this one thing for me 'n i'll let you ride my face. c'mon pretty girl." you couldn't see his eyes anymore. his fringes covered them as he looked down at your cunt, taking in the lewd noises that followed with every thrust of his finger and the clear, wet mess that started to drip down your thighs.

you can't help but nod, "anyth-ing for you." the abuse on your cunt and the way his mouth kisses at your nipples and sternum were taking your breath away. he was touching at all the right spots at all the right times.

your head throws itself back as the increasing pressure builds up in your stomach and you can't help but hold his wrist in an attempt to try and push him off of you. zayne, still, is relentless in his actions but he does raise his head to read your expressions and listen to your mumbled, repetitive 'yes's affirming him of how badly you want it.

"gonna cum. gonna cum, please lemme cum." you repeat over and over again as your nails dig crescent moon shapes into your lover's lower arm.

zayne chuckles, his fingers continuing at the same pace, never ceasing, "you can come whenever you want to, lovely. your hand is what's pushing me away."

your eyes shut tightly as the orgasmic feeling washes over you, basking in the complete and utter loss of the control you have over your body. you feel your eyes roll into into the back of your head behind your lids and your mouth parts as broken, whiny moans leave your lips. your lover smiles as he feels your walls spasm, clamping around his fingers repeatedly, harmonious with the way your thighs shiver.

you come down from your high rather slowly and zayne lifts you up, helping you move closer to the couch while you try to get your eyes to focus and attempt to beat the fatigue washing over you.

"you said you wanted to ride me, hmm?" zayne hums, itching in anticipation unbeknownst to you. you nod a bit nervously as you try to catch your breath, watching as he sits down and brings you to him by your waist, bunching your dress at your hips in the process. your cunt was almost lined up with his mouth.

"zayne, wait. i think i'm still s-ensitive," you say between gasps as you feel his breath fanning out onto your clit.

a hum leaves his lips and he looks at his watch briefly, "i don't think we have that much time, my love. it'll feel good, i promise. but if you want, we can wait until later tonight?" he kisses your thigh. there was no way in hell you were going to 'wait until later tonight.' the ache in your cunt from the anticipation would be too much for you to handle.

"hmm, it's okay..." you shake your head as you whisper tiredly, the post-orgasm drowsiness hitting you hard. he smiles as he lays down, taking you by the hand and leading your body closer to his face. his hands reach up towards his glasses. daintily holding them by the frame, he slips them off his face to place them on the glass table to the side of you.

the sight makes you pout and zayne, being zayne, catches it.

"what? do you also like my glasses too?" he smirks, bringing your hips to lay on him. you nod as you hesitantly let yourself be guided onto his chest.

"and when you get too rough and you break them, what then?" he questions, sass lacing his tone while his eyes focus on your cunt, watching it drip all your cum all over his shirt. the fact that he said 'when' and not 'if' had your body twitching. still, annoyance riddles your body and you roll your eyes. he's always ten steps ahead of you.

“ugh.. you’re so…” you’re at a loss for words and zayne can’t help but smile at your reaction.

he grips your hips roughly pulling you up to his face, "hmm...that's enough banter for now. don't be shy. 'm gonna ease you into it. and yes...i'll be fine, i promise."

with the constant reassurance, you build up enough courage to sit on him and almost immediately does his tongue find your clit, occasionally tracing around your labia and prodding your entrance.

"ha— zayne. wait!" a high-pitched strangled moan leaves your lips and the man grunts under you as your body lifts itself off of him in shock. zayne feels his eyes almost roll into the back of his head as he briefly catches a glimpse of how your pretty, puffy cunt pulsates around absolutely nothing. as he comes to his senses, his arms quickly lock around your legs, bringing you back down and keeping you in your rightful place— on top of him.

your moans get louder and louder and soon enough zayne finds himself humming satisfyingly into you, sending vibrations all throughout. to hear your cries of pleasure just from this, alone? while you tasted so good? zayne was in his own icy wonderland.

"waited years for this pussy and it's finally mine." he mumbles deliriously, and you nod, "all your— hmpf, fuck, all yours." he was fucking insatiable, arms tightening around your thighs as he forced you to press further down onto him. tears start to well in your eyes.

at this rate, zayne's cock was harder than ever before and you, yourself, notice that as you lean back, palm accidentally pressing down onto his erection, touching on the bounds of both pain and pleasure for him. a soft moan leaves him as he takes his mouth off of you for a moment, thick cock throbbing with want.

"wait," he says between shallow gasps for air, "not yet. i just want to focus on you right now... can you let me do that?" you nod and he slaps your thigh, which quickly has your spurting out multiple 'yes's in an apologetic tone.

you feel your body lifting to which you whine, tears falling in thick globs as you unconsciously hump the air for some needed friction, your pussy once again clamping around nothing, as you assume some sort of punishment was about to begin.

zayne watches you amusingly. it was quite a pathetic sight- one he loved, don't get him wrong but the thoughts that flowed into his mind weren't nice— slapping your ass, pinching your thigh or edging you every time you forgot to properly address him, tears falling down your face as you apologize and pout, begging to be fucked. god, he could feel his cock twitch in his pants.

it was the first official day of dating, though, so he wanted to cut you some slack and slowly ease you into things.

he finally puts you back down- noticeably, a bit further up his face. his arms lock you back in place, preparing himself in case you decide to run away from him again.

if anything, he'll ease you into things by forcing you to fuck yourself one orgasm into the other on his face.

"ride my face. fuck yourself using my nose." those words have your cunt spasming as you don't hesitate to listen to him.

your body jerks slowly as you ground down on him, his tall nose repeatedly tapping and prodding at your clit. zayne doesn't hesitate to continue his past ministrations, his tongue flat against you, sliding across your folds with every thrust from you.

"z-zayne. fuck." you moan as you grip the couch's arm for dear life, your body unconsciously speeding up as you look at the boy beneath you sitting so still and pretty for you with his eye half-lidded as his mouth softly parted. and, of course, the stimulation from his nose was just not helping.

zayne was drenched, soaked with your juices and he wouldn't let up. air lessened with each breath for him but he didn't care. in fact, he pushed his head further up into you. he loved it. he loved drowning in you.

"would love to have you sit on my face more often," he murmurs to himself as he feels your fingers entangle themselves in his hair, thighs locking and trembling around his head from the vibrations. zayne pushes his head up into your cunt even further, the hump on his hose throwing you for a loop.

"zayne. zay—fuck, fuck. oh, god!" you just couldn't get his name out of your mouth. it's as if he was currently conditioning you to focus on him— to know only him in this moment. he smiles, "it's alright, you can cum, baby. no one's stopping you. get off on my nose and mouth, baby. that's it." the sounds his face created with your pussy were oh, so lewd. it filled the entire room as your physician acted like you were a cup of fresh water waiting for him after he stayed in the sahara for a little too long.

soft whimpers leave your lips as you feel yourself sobbing. the pressure building up was too intense.

"come on, give it to me." the man under you grunts as he feels his dick twitch incessantly. no matter how badly he wanted to, zayne just couldn't resist palming himself. his tongue continues to fuck you sloppily, relishing in the act as he lapped up the savoury, dripping cum from you and spit from him like a dog. all while he played with your nipples, either groping, slightly grazing, or circling them. you name it.

you feel your legs thrash as a loud moan rips from your throat before you even realize what's coming. your body can't stop shaking and all you see is white yet zayne doesn't stop eating you out, his lips now encircling your clit and as he grips your legs even stronger, forcing you to relish in the harsh suction and vibrations as he moans along with you from the sight of you before him.

you squirt all over him, short bursts leaving your cunt to shower the man under you. the shock and embarrassment don't even last long as a gasp in pleasure leaves you- zayne was still on you, eyes closed as he lapped up every last drop you had offered him. he realized you came, his dick leaking pre-cum and twitching from the fact, but never truly processed it, fucking you through your orgasm and into the next one while not taking into account your sensitivity. you had no time to catch your breath.

"h—hey. wait... zayne!" you squirm. he hums unconsciously as he digs himself further into your cunt, overstimulating you with the flicks of his tongue. it's as if he can't stop. it's as if can't hear you. or maybe he just doesn't want to hear you.

"no more! hmphf— shit!" you repeatedly tap his shoulder as you continue to shake, your hips unconsciously still grinding into his face while your upper body rocks with sensitivity, nipples harder than ever and goosebumps riddling your skin. your thighs were practically squeezing his head now.

"one more for me baby, one more. please. just one more for me." zayne murmurs as he gasps for air. he looks as if he's lost his mind. his hair is dishevelled, with some parts of his fringes sticking up while the rest just barely covers his eyes. he really looks like a pervert that came straight out of a hentai in the moment. it was quite a sight.

the longer you stare, the more he looks blurry- your vision was becoming obscured, your senses simultaneously heightening as a result while the pressure in your tummy begins to build once more.

"hng— zayne, 'm gonna cum!" you sob, voice booming throughout the entire office as you feel yourself twitch, overstimulation ravaging your body. zayne's nails dig further into your hips, breaking skin, and the sharp pain allows you to finally let go. your back arches as your orgasm engulfs you, cum squirting out of you in bursts smaller yet more powerful than earlier.

"oh fuck—" a low, cracked whine leaves your boyfriend, his neck arching as he struggles to contain himself from quivering. his body shudders as he gently kisses your cunt and thighs. a fucked out look paints his face as he tries to catch his breath, his hand softly rubbing your waist in an attempt to calm you— and himself— down as he feels unusually lightheaded.

silence follows for a bit as you come down from your high and push yourself off of your lover's face who seemed very quiet—and not the usual quiet. there was something different about the air. hesitantly, you sit on his chest.

"zayne," you whisper nervously, "are you okay?"

zayne clears his throat, blinking harshly at the ceiling with his chest still heaving as his ears and cheeks are dusted red- his pretty mouth red, swollen and glistening with you. he swallows, avoiding eye contact with you as he tries to collect himself. you've never seen him like this... so shy, so embarrassed.

the silence that follows as your question goes unanswered causes anxiety to riddle through you, "did i do something wron-" "no," he interrupts not wanting to upset you in any way, "just... a minor miscalculation."

feeling relaxed, you push yourself down further onto his waist in an attempt to lay on top of him, "a minor miscalculation? what-"

oh.

you're shocked... and flattered as you feel a deeply soaked wet spot on his pants.

"i was too distracted and forgot about resisting my orgasm," he murmurs, not making eye contact. you smile, "hmm, i can tell. but don't be embarrassed, zayne. i find it a little hot... well, very hot." you chuckle. the reassurance was nice but, truth be told, he wanted his first load with you to be inside your glistening cunt, with you begging and pleading with him to give it to you, just like in his dreams.

one side of his lip curls up slightly, "i still can't believe i orgasmed untouched. though, this is my first time so i suppose it's not unusual."

just as you're about to lay on his chest, your body jerks upwards, "wait, what? you're a virgin, too? how'd you even know to do all th-"

"human anatomy," he interrupts, "being a surgeon, your physician and your boyfriend- it's quite necessary. and though i don't watch, a common assumption would be pornography."

embarrassment riddles your face and you mentally berate yourself for asking a stupid question as he kisses you, "... and i may have read some forums." his tone was soft and wispy, almost slipping past your ears. curiosity runs through you as you look up past his head at the computer. oh, that search history needed to be investigated.

"don't even think about it. i have a computer for work and another for personal use." he rolls his eyes.

gently, he lifts you from his waist and places you onto the couch just as he rises from it. he begins unbuttoning the cuffs of his dress shirt, wiping your cum residue from off his face onto the sleeves, "relax a bit. you need to come down from your high. we shouldn't miss the reservation if we leave in a minute... or three."

"wait, what about your work?"

zayne stops untying his tie to look at you. his head tilts and his eyebrow raises in the most comical way possible as if to say 'you can't be serious right now.'

"okay, fair. and.. your clothes? do you have an extra pair?" the moment you close your mouth you see zayne open a large closet filled with various button-ups and dress pants for varying occasions. as you take a closer look, you notice that they're organized by gradient and paired. not a single piece of clothing was out of place.

it was your turn to give him 'the look' as you scanned the closet before pointing at a paired outfit, a black turtleneck with matching dress pants. looking in that direction, zayne nods, taking the clothes from out the storage unit and undressing himself.

you feel your cheeks warm as you catch a glimpse of his bare back. you have yet to see him undressed and, to be honest, you don't want it to be now considering the two of you had plans after dinner. the sooner you fix your clothes the faster that time will arrive so that's what you do.

looking away, you notice something is missing- your panties. you quietly search for your underwear and it's nowhere to be seen. you scan the concrete floor and the velvet couches before directing your attention to the akso employee, only to catch him pushing sheer material into his pocket in silence just as you were about to query the fabric's whereabouts.

the two of you make eye contact once more. his face holds no emotion but he does turn around rather quickly, blush blooming at his ears once again as he looks at his computer before closing it and gathering the rest of his belongings.

note(s)💀. no one can come for me about the dorsal hump cause i found someone that happens to think the same thoughts as me! also i just finished day 2 of the valentine event??? zayne may have a sensitive neck ??? or am i just delusional??? + fav zayne edit if u care😼 also if i forgot something in the warnings plz dont hesitate to tell me! + i would love constructive crisitism just be nice abeg.

#i need some rum after this #and a nap #love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #love and deepspace smut #l&ds #love & deepspace #lads #love & deepsace x reader #love and deepspace zayne #l&ds smut #l&ds x reader #l&ds zayne #lads zayne #zayne x mc #zayne smut

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lostfracturess · 4 days

Text

symptoms and causes | ch. 13

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

ღ wc 15.1 k

ღ warnings 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, substance abuse/addiction, overdosing, dark and mature themes, self-destructive and abusive behavior, manipulation, moral ambiguity, borderline insane behavior by all involved, heavy angst with happy ending, panic attacks, family drama/trauma, mentions of death, illness, and blood, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note hello again !! we're back to our beloved insane gojo and he's down bad for our reader in this chapter hehe. sorry, for saying this chapter will be calm bc i kinda reworked it and made it angsty again ooppsii. anyway, as always love to hear your thoughts and a big big thank you for reading and supporting my writing !! <33

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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Your eyes were dry.

Your vision began to swim.

You'd been hunched over the microscope for what felt like hours.

With a weary sigh, you leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples in a vain attempt to ease the throbbing pain behind your eyes.

Just as you were contemplating taking a break, you heard loud footsteps echoing down the corridor outside the lab, followed by the all-too-familiar voice of a certain neurosurgeon.

"That old bastard!" Satoru burst through the door, slamming it open with enough force to rattle the test tubes. "Who the hell does he think he is?"

Suguru followed close behind, his own expression equally angry. "Fucking piece of shit." He walked over to the corner of the lab where he'd left his white coat. "I can't believe he had the fucking balls to drag Higurama into his bullshit."

You glanced up, one eyebrow arched. "You're late."

At the sound of your voice, Satoru's head whipped around. His anger seemed to dissipate as his gaze landed on you, a slow smile forming on his lips.

He walked over to you, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you close, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. "Sorry about that."

"What's going on with Yaga?"

Satoru's gaze flickered over to Suguru, who was now shrugging into his lab coat, an entire conversation between them seeming to pass in a mere heartbeat.

"Don't ask," they said in unison, their voices grave.

You frowned, gaze darting back and forth between the two men.

Satoru reached up to loosen his tie before cradling your chin, tilting your face to meet his gaze. "You okay?" he asked softly, tracing the shadows under your eyes with his thumb. "You look exhausted."

"I'm fine, Satoru. Don't worry."

He didn't look convinced, not even a little bit.

His piercing eyes studied you for a long moment, his brows furrowing slightly. "You know, I love it when you lie to me."

"Could say the same about you."

"Fair point."

Reluctantly, Satoru moved away and headed over to his workstation to start prepping. "So, I had this idea for the project," he began. "I was thinking we could—"

But you were only half-listening.

You sank deeper into your chair, your body feeling heavy. Your fingers found your temples once more, trying to smash your skull in to relieve the pain.

Your nerves felt raw, exposed, every sensation amplified to an unbearable degree. The scratch of your clothing against your skin, the hum of the air conditioning, even your own heartbeat — all of it assaulted your senses mercilessly.

You reached into your bag and pulled out a small plastic cup, setting it down on the table beside you with a decisive thud.

Satoru's movements abruptly halted. He stared at the cup, before slowly lifting his gaze to meet yours. "What's that?"

You met his gaze head-on, the pain making your voice sharper than intended. "What does it look like?"

Satoru's eyes darted between you and the cup. "You want me to take a drug test?"

"You really think I'm going to let you work on this project while you're high?"

"You know it's gonna take me a few hours to get clean."

"Yeah, well, I hear exercise helps speed up the process," you said, your tone dry.

"You serious?"

You tilted your head. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

For a long, tense moment, you stared at each other, a silent battle of wills playing out between you. Satoru's hand came up to scrub his face, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Finally, he let out a dramatic sigh, his shoulders slumping.

He stepped closer, leaning down until his face was mere inches from yours. "Fine, first-year." He braced one hand on the back of your chair, his fingertips brushing against your shoulder. "I'll go rub one out thinking about you. That count as exercise too?"

You met his gaze unflinchingly. "Whatever helps you get clean, Professor. Just make sure you clean up after yourself."

"You know, you could make it a bit easier on me. Maybe we should make a little video next time, give me something to really focus on."

You leaned forward until your face was just a hair's breadth from his. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I think you know exactly how much I'd like that. The question is, would you?"

"I don't think you could handle me on camera, Professor."

"Is that a challenge, first-year?"

"You wish."

Satoru's smirk widened. "Oh, you have no idea, love."

He straightened up, snatching the drug test from the table and grabbing his jacket. "I'll be back in a few hours," he called over his shoulder with a quick wave as he headed for the door. "Try not to miss me too much."

In his wake, an awkward silence settled over the lab.

You could feel Suguru's eyes on you, but you stubbornly avoided his gaze, focusing instead back on the microscope in front of you.

"We'll be working alone on this project, if you're going to send him away every time he's high," Suguru said.

"Yeah, seems like it. But I'm not gonna let him jeopardize this project."

"Satoru was always on opioids when he worked. Why now?"

"I don't know," you said softly, and it was the truth.

You didn't know why this time felt different, why you couldn't turn a blind eye as you had before. Maybe it was the project, or maybe it was the unfamiliar vulnerability that had burrowed under your skin since that day back home.

Maybe it was the terrible realization of how much he meant to you.

How terrible you loved him.

And how terrible it would be to lose him.

Sometimes you wished you could just tear that love from your chest with your bare hands, plunging your fingers into your own flesh, grasping for that pulsing, traitorous organ and crush it in your fist.

It would be easier.

Your migraine pulsed. You closed your eyes briefly, trying to center yourself. When you opened them again, you saw concern in Suguru's eyes, and you realized how much of your inner struggle must be visible on your face.

You looked away.

Suguru was quiet for a long moment, the silence stretching between you like an endless chasm. When he finally spoke again, his voice was so soft you had to strain to hear it. "You know, I'm not going to act on these feelings."

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

You'd avoided thinking about it, pushed it to the back of your mind. But now his confession hung in the air, threatening to shatter the fragile denial you'd built up.

You took a deep breath. "I know. You respect me too much for that."

He looked down at his hands, absently flexing his fingers. "I just want you to know that I care about you."

"And I care about you, Suguru. I really do. That hasn't changed, that won't change."

His lips twisted into a sad smile, a look of pain flashed across his face, a fleeting vulnerability. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, hidden behind a carefully constructed mask of neutrality, but you knew him too well to be fooled.

You could see the shame burning in his eyes, the self-loathing that ate away at him.

Stupid.

Stupid because he shouldn't be.

No one can control their feelings after all.

"Don't be sorry," you said.

His head lifted to meet your gaze.

"I can tell," you said, a faint smile touching your lips. "By the look on your face, the way you look at me sometimes. You don't have to apologize for your feelings, Suguru. You can't control them." You paused, your heart heavy. "I know that all too well."

He watched you, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips once again, the shame still lingering in his eyes. His jaw clenched and unclenched, as if he was physically holding back words he knew he couldn't say.

"Come on, we have a bit of work to do." You tried to smile. "Nobel Prize doesn't win itself after all, right?"

Suguru paused, his expression softening. "I'll always care about you."

"I know. And I'll always care about you."

And you meant it.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, a small genuine smile finally breaking through. "So, what's on the agenda today? Cell manipulation or paperwork?"

You raised an eyebrow at him.

Suguru's smile widened. "Cell manipulation it is, then."

─── ·✧· ───

"So, the key here is that the enzyme acts as a catalyst, lowering the activation energy and speeding up the reaction."

You head throbbed.

You were hungry.

And you hated biochemistry.

At least the library was quiet, save for the sound of pages being turned and the soft scratching of pens on paper. Dust motes danced lazily in the rays of the midday sun filtering through tall, arched windows.

Not many students, at least not in this corner. It was lunchtime after all. But you still sat around a table with Maki, Toge, and Yuta, each of them focused intently on their studies.

Well, Yuta was focused, at least.

He was walking you through biochemical pathway, his voice low as he tried to fill in the gaps from the lectures you'd missed. But try as you might, you were having a hard time keeping up.

"So, see here," Yuta said, pointing to a diagram in your notes. "This is the citric acid cycle. It's like the powerhouse of cellular respiration, where glucose gets broken down to produce energy."

You squinted at the diagram, the symbols blurring slightly. "Right, right."

"So, as glucose gets oxidized, it generates NADH and FADH2, which are then used in the electron transport chain to produce ATP."

"The energy currency of the cell," you recited.

"Exactly." Yuta smiled, his eyes lighting up with a genuine enthusiasm that was frankly a little intimidating. "Now, the key thing to remember is that the citric acid cycle is a series of enzyme-catalyzed reactions. If even one enzyme is deficient or inhibited, the whole process can get thrown out of whack."

You nodded, trying to look like you were absorbing the information.

He went on to explain the different enzymes involved, their specific roles and the potential consequences of their dysfunction. You listened, struggling to take in the information through the fog of sleep deprivation and pain.

Still, you were truly thankful for Yuta's help.

"Did you get that?" he asked.

"Yeah, kinda." You tilted your head as if that would somehow help. "I might need to reread this bit later, though. Just to make sure it sticks."

Yuta smiled. "You'll get it."

"Thanks, Yuta. I seriously owe you one."

Maki, who had been observing the exchange with barely concealed impatience, finally interjected. "Okay, enough biochemistry for one day. We all need a break."

"Agreed," Toge said, his nose still buried in his biochem textbook.

You were about to protest, guilt nagging at you for falling behind in your studies, but the sheer exhaustion that weighed down your limbs made it impossible to argue.

"Yeah, I could definitely use something to eat," Yuta said, leaning back in his chair and placing his hands on his stomach. "I'm starving."

Then, a shadow fell across your textbook.

You looked up to find Satoru standing there. His hands were tucked casually in the pockets of his perfectly tailored dress pants. Crisp white shirt, navy tie. His expression was unreadable — as always.

He didn't say a word, just held your gaze with those piercing blue eyes that always seemed to see right through you.

Silence stretched.

Satoru's gaze remained locked on you, as if the others in the room didn't even exist.

Maki rolled her eyes. "We'll head out," she announced, gathering her things with a pointed look in Satoru's direction. The scrape of her chair against the worn wooden floor was jarringly loud in the hushed library.

"Yeah, I'll catch up with you later," you said.

Your friends gathered their belongings, shoving notebooks and pens into their bags. Toge paused briefly, glancing back at you. You managed a weak smile in response, as they filed out one by one, their footsteps echoing in the now eerily quiet space.

And then you were alone with him.

"What are you doing here, Satoru?"

"Just checking in on my favorite student." He set a bulging folder on the table with a soft thud.

You eyed the folder. "What's that?"

"Take a look."

Reluctantly, you reached for the folder and flipped it open.

Inside, neatly organized notes and summaries of the lectures you'd missed stared back at you, each page filled with carefully highlighted passages and detailed diagrams. Brightly colored sticky notes peeked out from between the pages, explanations and key points meticulously written in Satoru's messy handwriting.

You flipped through the folder. It wasn't just notes. He'd even gone through the old exams, the ones you'd failed due to, well, everything that had been going on in your life lately — him mostly to be fair.

"These are old exams," Satoru explained. "Nanami has a habit of recycling questions. Lazy bastard. Doesn't like to put in the effort."

You met his gaze. "Isn't that cheating?"

"Do you want to be an orthopedic surgeon?"

"No?"

Satoru shrugged. "Then cheating is fine."

You looked down at the papers again, your fingers tracing over the notes in Satoru's handwriting, the neatly highlighted key points. The sheer effort he'd put into this—

"You did all this...for me?"

"Why does that surprise you?" Satoru tilted his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "Just taking care of my future wife, aren't I?"

Your head snapped up. "I didn't say yes. And you haven't exactly asked me."

"Oh, first-year," he chuckled, leaning forward. "You already said yes. It's written all over that beautiful, exhausted face of yours. I was more worried about your mother saying no, but apparently she's already planning the wedding. Wait, what did she say again?" He paused, then mimicking your mother's voice with uncanny accuracy. "Oh, please, Dr. Gojo, take my daughter. She's so lucky to have such a handsome, intelligent man as a husband—'"

Your cheeks burned.

You grabbed your half-empty, now lukewarm coffee cup, and before you could even think, the contents splashed across his smug face.

Satoru stoped, momentarily stunned.

Then, he raked his fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back as droplets of coffee trickled down his forehead.

"Ouch," he said, that infuriating smirk returning to his lips. "Is this how you plan to treat me in our marriage? Because I have to say, it's turning me on."

"Again, I didn't say yes. Nor did you actually ask." You pressed your fingertips to your temples, trying to massage away the pain. His words grated against your frayed nerves. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the world to stop spinning. "God, you're giving me a migraine."

His smirk vanished. "Since when do you have it?"

"Since this morning," you muttered. "I'm out of meds."

"What do you take? Rizatriptan?"

"Sumatriptan."

Without a word, Satoru reached down and scooped up your bag, slinging it over his broad shoulder before you could even think to protest. "Come on," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "I've got some in my office."

You hesitated, your body protesting against every movement.

Satoru's brow furrowed as he met your gaze. You knew that look, knew the stubborn set of his jaw. He wasn't going to take no for an answer, no matter how much you might want to curl up under the table and die.

And, as always, you found yourself powerless to resist.

With a resigned sigh, you followed him.

─── ·✧· ───

You sank onto the worn leather couch in Satoru's office, each muscle protesting the sudden movement. The migraine throbbed in time with your pulse, making your stomach churn.

You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to vomit all over Satoru's floor.

You watched Satoru rummage through his drawers. His desk loomed before you, a chaotic landscape of teetering book towers and scattered papers. Your gaze, drawn by some masochistic instinct, landed on a familiar orange pill bottle nestled among the debris.

He didn't even try to hide it.

But you were in too much agony to care.

"Sorry, I don't have any pills on hand." Satoru still rummaged through a drawer. "Just this." He held up a sleek, blue pen — an auto-injector.

"God, I hate those things." With a resigned sigh, you slumped back against the plush cushions. You shifted, trying to find a position that offered the slightest bit of comfort, but every movement sent a fresh wave of agony crashing through you. "They always sting like hell."

"But they work, don't they?"

Satoru sat beside you and rolled up your sleeve. "Since when do you have migraines like this?" he asked as he pressed the cool plastic of the injector against your skin.

"Since–" You hissed as the needle pierced your skin, a brief sting followed by a wave of numbing coolness. "Since forever. But lately, they've gotten worse."

Satoru's gaze remained fixed on you as he held the injector in place. When the device clicked, signaling that the full dose had been delivered, he carefully retracted it, his movements precise and practiced.

You met his gaze, your own eyes glassy with pain and exhaustion. His brows were furrowed, a look of guilt and concern etched onto his handsome features.

"Not everything is about you, you know."

"You never told me," he said quietly. "About the migraines, I mean."

You closed your eyes, sinking further into the couch. "Why? You want a complete rundown of my medical history?"

He stood up and crossed the room. "Yes."

You opened one eye, peering at him. "You're impossible."

"So I've been told."

You closed your eyes again, trying to find a position that didn't make the world spin. You could feel the medication starting to work, your fingers and toes tingling as the migraine and nausea intensified momentarily before slowly receding.

You knew this shit all too well.

Satoru returned with a cool pack in his hand. "Can you blame me for worrying about you?" He sat beside you once more, gently guiding your head onto his lap. He brushed the damp hair from your temple to place the cool pack on your forehead. "Better?"

"Yes. Thank you." you sighed, closing your eyes. "For everything."

"Anything for you, love."

For a long moment, you simply lay there. His hand brushed over your hair in soothing strokes. The office was blissfully quiet, the only sounds the distant chirping of birds outside the open window and the soft rush of the wind through the trees.

"Are you on any preventative medication for your migraines?" he asked, his fingers still idly stroking your hair.

"No, I'm not. I'm done trying every fucking thing. The side effects were too severe. Shaking hands, nightmares, insomnia. You know them."

"Have you considered antibody treatment?"

"Yeah, but you have to try every goddamn pill on this earth before they'll even consider it. I'm sick of it."

"Hmm," Satoru hummed thoughtfully.

You opened your eyes again, blinking away the haze of pain and medication.

As you looked up at him, his gaze met yours, the blue of his impossibly bright — almost too bright, fever-bright, framed by lashes so pale they looked like frost against his skin. His lips were pressed into a thin, a faint sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, tiny droplets catching the light.

He looked ill.

Haggard.

Haunted.

"Satoru," you whispered. "What's wrong?"

He didn't answer. His gaze drifted to the windows, unfocused. His other hand, resting on the back of the couch, clenched and unclenched, the muscles of his forearm flexing beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

Finally, he spoke, his voice a hoarse. "It's hard, coming off the high."

"You—" you started, but the words died on your lips as guilt seized your heart, squeezing painfully.

He looked down at you again, his hand still pressing the cool pack against your forehead. "You said I could only work on this project if I was sober."

"To be honest, I didn't think you would actually do it." The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, and your heart constricted.

"You really think that low of me?"

"No, I mean—" You reached out, cupping his cheek. His skin was rough with stubble. "You don't have to do this, Satoru. I'll accept you as you are. Addict and all. I don't care."

It was the truth.

You didn't care.

But why did you ask him to be sober for the research then? Why did you try to get him clean in the first place then?

You accepted him.

Loved him, flaws and all.

But deep down, a part of you hated his addiction with a rage that frightened you. Not for the addiction itself, but for what it was doing to him.

For destroying him.

Piece by precious piece.

Somehow, you felt that your unconditional love for Satoru and your desperate need to see him whole again was tearing you apart as surely as his addiction was tearing him apart.

Ironic, isn't it?

He leaned into your touch, his hand covering yours, and you felt the slight tremor in his fingers. "But you shouldn't."

"Why?"

His hand tightened around yours, his grip almost painful. "Because I don't deserve it. Not after everything I've done, not after the way I've hurt you."

"Why should I get to have the good parts of you without the mess?" you said softly. "I want all of you, Satoru."

He looked away. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Stop it. Stop saying that." You sat up, the cool pack falling from your forehead, forgotten. Your hand reached up, cupping his face, fingers splayed across his stubbled cheek as you forced him to meet your gaze.

"Listen to me, Satoru," you paused, waiting until his eyes locked with yours, until you were sure you had his full attention. The intensity of his gaze almost made you falter, but you pressed on. "You think you're the disease, but I think you're the cure. And I'll keep saying it, over and over again, until you start to see it too."

He stared at you, a war raging in his eyes. "But I hurt you," he said, the words catching in his throat. "I'll only continue to hurt you."

"Maybe," you whispered, your thumb tracing the familiar contours of his face. "But let me decide when it's too much."

His gaze searched yours, looking for something — some hint of doubt or hesitation, some sign that you didn't mean what you said. But there was none to be found.

"Stubborn as ever," he said.

"You wanted me, remember? Now live with the consequences."

He smiled then. After a pause, he said, "Let's go throw some hoops. I could use a distraction. Withdrawal sucks."

You let your hands fall from his face. "Sounds like a plan. But I need to meet up with my friends first."

"Alright. I'll wait for you. Like I always will."

"You're stupid."

"No." He reached for your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours, his palm warm and rough against your skin. "I'm in love."

You stared at each other, your eyes locked in a gaze that felt like it could last an eternity. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, his lips twisted into a smile that made your heart stutter in your chest.

He cleared his throat then, breaking the spell.

He turned away and walked over to his desk. He rummaged through his gym bag, his back to you, as he removed his tie and began to unbutton his shirt, the fabric still stained with your coffee from earlier.

You watched as the crisp white fabric slipped from his shoulders, revealing the expanse of his back. Muscles rippled beneath his pale skin, defined lines, and the faintest dusting of freckles across his shoulders.

He tossed the coffee-stained shirt onto a nearby chair, then reached for a clean, dark blue sports shirt, the material stretching tight across his broad shoulders as he pulled it over his head.

He must have noticed your silence. He glanced at you over his shoulder, his arms still raised above his head as he tugged the shirt into place. "Like what you see, first-year?"

You lips twitched into a smile. But the smile faded as quickly as it had come, replaced by a sudden, sickening lurch in your stomach.

Your eyes fell on the faded scars that marked his biceps, trailing onto his shoulders in a mottled pattern. Alarming red. As if he had been scratching at them again. Reopened.

Your heart ached.

"Will you ever tell me why you have those scars?" you asked softly.

He froze, his hands stilling mid-movement. Slowly, he pulled the shirt down, his back still to you, muscles tense beneath the fabric. "Didn't I?"

"Not really."

He was quiet for a long moment.

"You don't have to get clean for me, Satoru," you added. "Not for me, and not for this project. Not when this is the consequence."

Not when it's tearing you apart, you wanted to scream.

He remained silent, then turned and walked over to you. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'll wait for you on the basketball court."

With that, he walked out of the office.

Shame clawed at your throat, threatening to choke you. Somehow, in your own pain, you had forgotten his.

You had always prided yourself on being strong, on being able to handle whatever life threw your way. But now, faced with his addiction, you felt utterly weak, as if you were losing yourself — leaving behind a stranger you barely recognized.

And you were afraid.

God, you were so afraid and terrified of failing him, of not being strong enough to stand by him through this. Shouldn't you be stronger? Shouldn't you be able to handle this without falling apart?

Anger cursed through you — at Satoru for his addiction, at yourself for your weakness, at the unfairness of it all. You closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself, but the thoughts in your head refused to quiet down.

Suddenly, the screen of your phone lit up.

You looked down, your heart sinking as you saw his picture on the home screen. It wasn't an obvious photo, but a candid shot you'd secretly taken of him.

He looked so happy in it.

Without thinking, you snatched up the phone, your fingers curling tightly around it and hurled it across the room. It collided with the far wall with a sickening crack.

─── ·✧· ───

Brisk autumn air stung your cheeks as you crossed the campus.

The warm glow of the late afternoon sun offered little warmth against the biting chill, a reminder of the impending winter. But even the sharp cold couldn't numb your mind to the image of Satoru's scars.

They burned in your memory, more vivid than the world around you.

You could almost feel the raised, angry welts under your fingertips, see the inflamed skin puckering and stretching with each of his movements.

Your mind wandered to the reason why he had them, and the thought alone was enough to make your stomach churn. You swallowed hard, fighting against the rising tide of nausea that threatened to overwhelm you.

But deep down, you knew.

Perhaps you just didn't want to admit it.

Didn't want to admit that parents could be so cruel.

Your friends came into view, perched on a low stone wall that bordered the campus green. They had claimed the sunniest spot, their legs dangling over the edge as they tilted their faces up to the sky, soaking in the last rays of sunlight before the day faded into night.

"Took you long enough," Maki greeted you.

"Sorry. Got held up."

"Yeah, we know what held you up." She peered at you over the top of her sunglasses. "Or should I say, who."

You ignored her teasing.

Yuta scooted over, making space for you on the wall. You sank down beside him. "Hey there, stranger," he greeted you. "We were starting to think you'd gotten lost in a pile of research papers or something."

"No, I just kinda didn't know where you went."

"Why didn't you call us?" Yuta asked.

You hesitated for a moment. "I think I need a new phone."

Yuta and the others exchanged a glance, but to their credit, they didn't press the issue. Instead, Toge leaned over, holding open a paper bag with a grease-stained bottom. "Here."

You glanced inside the bag and saw a few donuts, the sugary glaze glistening in the fading sunlight. Your stomach growled, reminding you that you hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.

"Thanks, Toge," you said, reaching in and grabbing a donut.

You took a bite. Leaning back on the wall, you tilted your face up towards the sun, savoring the warmth on your skin. You nestled a bit closer to Yuta's shoulder, seeking solace in the familiar presence of your friend. He responded in kind, his body a steady, reassuring weight against yours.

"So," Maki began, her voice cutting through the comfortable silence. She leaned back until she was lying on the wall. "How's Dr. Handsome doing these days?"

Wrong topic.

You sighed, taking another bite of the donut to buy time, the taste now ashen in your mouth. "Miserable as always."

"Well, that's nothing new, is it?" Maki said. "I mean, the guy's always been a bit of a mess, hasn't he?"

You didn't respond to that.

"Anyway," Maki said, sitting up suddenly and spreading a wide grin across her face. "I hear Zenin is throwing a party this weekend to kick off the semester. We going, or what?"

"Zenin?" Toge asked.

"Not me, obviously. We just happen to have the same last name, which is kinda creepy when you think about it."

At the mention of a party, your muscles tensed involuntarily. After all, you hadn't had much luck with parties lately, to say the least.

"I don't know, guys," you said. "I'm not really in the mood for a party right now."

"Oh, come on," Maki insisted. "It'll be fun! We'll dance, we'll drink and we'll make some bad decisions."

Yuta blinked. "Hold on a second. Zenin? Is he some kind of distant cousin of yours or something, Maki?"

"Hell no," Maki scoffed. "He's the creep who drugged her at that party last semester," she said, pointing at you like it was no big deal.

Yuta's jaw dropped. "Wait, what? Why would we go to a party hosted by the guy who tried to drug her?"

Not tried. He did.

"Because," Maki leaned in, her smile widening, "rumor has it, Dr. Handsome totally wrecked the guy's face. I'm talking Frankenstein-level shit. And I don't know about you, but I want to see that for myself."

You lifted your head, intrigued despite yourself and exchanged a long look with Maki.

"You're coming, aren't you?" Maki asked.

"When is it?"

"Next weekend. Saturday night. And I'm not taking no for an answer, just so you know."

Yuta, however, remained unconvinced. "Are we seriously considering this? Going to the party of the guy who assaulted our friend?"

Maki shrugged. "It'll be fun. And besides, it'll be good for her to get out, have some fun, forget about all this studying crap for a while, take a fucking break."

"It's not about fun," Yuta countered. "It's about basic decency. Why give that asshole the satisfaction of our presence?"

Maki rolled her eyes. "Look, it's a party. We're not going there to make nice with the creep. We're just gonna crash, have some fun, maybe stir up a little trouble. And besides, I doubt Zenin would be stupid enough to try anything twice."

"I'm down," Toge chimed in.

"See?" Maki declared. "Toge's on board."

Yuta shook his head. "I can't believe this."

Toge merely shrugged.

"C'mon, you can't seriously tell me you're not even a little bit curious," she said to Yuta. "Don't you want to see the look on that douchebag's face when he sees her walking in? Oh, and did I mention? It's not just any party. It's a goddamn pool party."

"A pool party?" Yuta repeated. "In October? Are you kidding me?"

Maki shrugged. "The guy's a total creep. Does that surprise you? But hey, apparently money can buy you anything, even summer in the middle of autumn."

You knew this was a stupid idea, terrible idea even.

Going to a party hosted by the guy who'd tried to hurt you, the same asshole Satoru had bled to protect you from — it felt like a middle finger to everything Satoru had done.

How could you even consider this, after everything Satoru had done for you?

But at the same time, there was this exhausted other part of you that just wanted to let loose for once, to feel like a normal university student, have some fucking fun for once.

And if you were being completely honest with yourself?

You really, really wanted to see the damage Satoru had done to that prick's face and perhaps — some darker part of you maybe even wanted to twist the knife a bit yourself. Show Naoya he hadn't broken you, that you weren't some fragile thing to be toyed with.

You would deal with the consequences later, would find a way to make it up to Satoru somehow. For now, you needed this — needed to feel in control.

"Fuck it," you said. "I'm in."

─── ·✧· ───

The basketball court was deserted.

The sun, a dying ember in the sky, bled its light through the trees that bordered the court. Autumn had sunk its teeth into the leaves, turning them crimson, gold, and shades of burnt orange. A sudden gust of wind sent a flurry of fallen leaves skittering across the cracked asphalt.

Satoru, shirtless and glistening with sweat, stood at the free-throw line, sinking shot after shot. His muscles flexed and rippled as the fading sunlight danced across his skin, accentuating his sculpted physique.

You paused at the edge of the court, watching him.

And then you noticed his scars once more.

Raw. Red. Weeping.

In places, the skin was torn, weeping pinpricks of fresh blood that beaded on the surface like macabre dew. Rusty streaks traced paths down his arm, bleeding barely wiped away.

He was still in withdrawal, it seemed.

And the cost was written in red across his skin.

He kept his word, despite the agony it must be causing him.

You should be happy, right?

But you weren't.

All you felt was a deep, aching sadness.

You wanted him clean, to get sober. God, how you wanted it. But you knew better than to think it would be easy. Satoru had been an addict for so long, that you weren't sure he could ever truly be free of it.

Not completely.

Not in the way that mattered.

You'd sworn to accept him no matter what.

And you meant it, with every goddamn fiber of your being. But seeing him like this, seeing the evidence of his struggle written in blood on his skin, it was hard not to feel a twinge of doubt — to feel that perhaps your efforts were not enough.

He would do anything for you, that much was clear.

He'd try to get sober, even if just for a day, even if only to work on this project with you. He'd set himself on fire to keep you warm.

Except, it seemed, when it came to truly facing his fears, to being with you in the way you craved most desperately. In a way, he would have to take care of himself, let go of his self-destruction.

That thought left a bitter taste in your mouth.

It was a cruel irony — he'd bleed for you, but couldn't heal for you.

Couldn't heal for himself.

The tragedy of it was almost beautiful in its brutality.

He caught sight of you then, a grin spreading across his face. "Oh. Look, who's here," he teased, dribbling the ball between his legs with practiced ease.

"You should probably put a shirt on," you said, your gaze lingering on the expanse of his bare chest, following the beads of sweat trickling down his muscles. "Or are you trying to seduce the students here?"

He stopped dribbling, the ball resting in his hand. "Only one."

You stepped onto the court, the familiar squeak of your sneakers against the worn asphalt the only sound in the quiet court. "And is it working?"

"I don't know. You tell me." Satoru tossed you the ball. "You alright?"

"Why you always ask me that?" you said, catching the ball and starting to dribble. You could feel his gaze on you, like a physical weight pressing down on your skin.

"Because you look like you're about to collapse."

Says the one with fresh wounds carved into his skin.

You didn't answer, your mind racing, gaze fixed on the ball as you started to dribble towards the goal. "So, what was that consultation with Higurama about this morning?"

Satoru tried to steal the ball, his body brushing against yours in a fleeting moment. "Higurama held us a whole damn lecture and everything."

"What about?"

Satoru managed to block your shot, his arms outstretched. "Apparently, we're not supposed to be screwing around with students."

You halted. "For real?"

"Fraid so." He dribbled past you, his movements a blur as he easily sank the shot. "You know," he said, turning to you with a wry grin, "you're supposed to stop me from scoring, right?"

The score was now 0-1.

"Yeah, yeah," you mused.

He tossed you the ball again, the movement almost absentminded as he looked at you. You caught the ball and began to dribble.

"I'm sorry," he said then.

"For what?"

"For what I said to you back then. After I came to your place that night, while I was—" He trailed off, his gaze dropping. Leaves fell from the trees, swirling and tumbling in the breeze before coming to rest around his feet.

You knew what he was referring to.

Of course you did. How could you forget?

That night, in the very first week of the new semester, when you'd found him standing outside your window, his face pale and drawn, his eyes haunted, the cut on his leg — that you caused, but anyway — bleeding.

When you'd let him in, and he'd said all those things, those terrible, fucked-up things that had burrowed under your skin.

About how you hated who he was, but still craved him, craved the way he made you feel.

About how you loved giving up control, loved losing yourself in him.

About the thrill.

About how you were just like him.

His words echoed in your mind. Because maybe, just maybe, he'd been right. Maybe that was why you couldn't stay away, no matter how hard you tried.

"You're apologizing for that now?"

"I know, I'm late."

You blamed it on the withdrawal for now, the reason he was saying such stupid things.

You dribbled closer to the goal, your focus on the hoop above you. "It's okay, I think you were maybe right." You took your shot, the ball arcing through the air. It swished through the net with a satisfying whoosh.

The score was now 1-1.

"You know you're supposed to stop me from scoring, right?"

You turned to look over your shoulder at Satoru. He stood there, his hands tucked into the pockets of his sport shorts, his gaze piercing as he studied you, the moment stretching out between you like a rubber band pulled taut.

"What?" you asked.

"You're not like me. I shouldn't have said that."

You grabbed the ball, pressing it against your hip as you turned to face him fully. "Why does that concern you so much?"

Satoru's jaw clenched. "Because I don't want to see you become like me."

"Because you think you're that awful?"

He didn't answer.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat feeling like shards of glass.

"You're stupid," you said quietly.

You started dribbling again, he sound of it against the asphalt harsh in the stillness of the court, but your eyes were drawn to his arms. He knew you were looking, could feel the weight of your gaze like a physical touch.

"It's not that bad," he said.

"You wouldn't tell me anyway, would you?" you challenged, dribbling closer.

His silence was maddening.

Stupid Satoru.

Always tiptoeing around the subject, always afraid to reveal too much, always so damn cautious. It was like walking on eggshells, never quite knowing which step would be the one to crack the delicate shell.

It made you want to scream.

But you bit your tongue, tasting blood, because you knew better than to push him. Because the scars he bore ran far deeper than the ones that marked his skin.

He was always afraid, always terrified that one wrong step, one careless word, would shatter the fragile stability you'd both worked so hard to maintain.

But then again, you were both guilty of that, weren't you?

You sighed. "You still sober?"

Satoru extended his hand, his whole hand shaking. It was worse than you'd ever seen it.

"Yeah, you're sober." You tossed him the ball again. "So, what was your idea with the project?"

Satoru caught the ball easily. "I was thinking about how we address the risk of severe inflammatory responses." He began to dribble, faking a left before pivoting right. "Chances are not exactly small, cytokine release syndrome, neurotoxicity, all that shit."

"What about using corticosteroids to dampen the immune response?" Your feet moved almost by themselves as you intercepted his pass, stealing the ball and heading for the basket.

Satoru chased after you. He managed to block your shot just in time, his hand slamming against the ball. "Steroids might not be enough. We could use tocilizumab or other anti-IL-6 agents, like in CAR-T therapies for blood cancers."

You ran to intercept him. "We could monitor IL-6 levels and administer tocilizumab at the first sign of a spike."

Satoru attempted a layup, but you were there in an instant, your hand slamming against the ball, sending it bouncing off the backboard.

"Fuck, first-year," he said with a grin, "when did you become so damn good at this?"

"Maybe you're just getting old, Professor."

He laughed, before passing the ball back to you. "Or maybe I'm just distracted by you."

You caught the ball. "Lame excuse."

"We should also consider GM-CSF inhibitors to reduce inflammation," Satoru continued.

"Yeah, combining these approaches would be better," you agreed, dribbling down the court. "But what about neurotoxicity?"

Satoru swiped at the ball but missed. You took advantage of his momentary distraction, setting up for a clear shot that arced through the air and swished through the net.

The score was now 2-1.

"We need real-time monitoring of neurological functions," he said, watching your shot. "Frequent, maybe even continuous, neuro exams to catch any signs of toxicity early, before they have a chance to cause permanent damage."

"Yeah, we need a clear intervention plan, something like a safety switch to destroy CAR-T cells if toxicity becomes unmanageable," you added, our voice breathless.

Satoru got the basketball and set up for another shot, his movements fluid despite the tremors in his hands. "Like a gene to destroy them if toxicity becomes unmanageable?"

"Something like that, yeah. Like an inducible caspase-9 suicide gene to selectively eliminate CAR-T cells in severe toxicity," you said, blocking his shot with a quick, decisive movement and grabbing the rebound. "That way, we can protect the patient without harming healthy cells."

"Sounds good," Satoru agreed, trying to steal the ball, his chest pressing against yours. "We could also use less aggressive conditioning before CAR-T infusion to reduce inflammation—"

"—to help the patient tolerate the therapy better," you finished for him, then dribbled quickly and made a shot. "I've considered it."

The score was now 3-1.

Satoru paused, his chest heaving as he caught his breath, and looked at you with an amused expression.

"What?" you asked.

"When did you become so good at basketball?"

"You're in withdrawal. You're slow as fuck."

"Ouch," Satoru said. "But you're right. I'm not exactly at the top of my game at the moment."

He dribbled the rebound ball again, his movements slower than usual, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to keep control. You saw your chance and moved closer. Your hand darting out to steal the basketball, but he was faster.

With a swift motion, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, your bodies colliding with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs. His bare chest pressed against yours, heaving with each heavy breath, the heat of his skin seeping through your thin shirt.

You could feel his heartbeat pounding in sync with your own, as droplets of sweat trickled down from his temple, tracing a path along his sharp jawline. His eyes locked onto yours, before drifting down to your slightly parted lips.

"Satoru?" you whispered.

His gaze flickered back to your eyes. "Come on. Let's go back to the lab. I can't stand this withdrawal any longer." He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your lips. "And something tells me I'm in for a treat."

─── ·✧· ───

The hum of the ventilation system welcomed you as you entered the lab. The air was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the heat and sweat of the basketball court, and you felt your mind beginning to clear as you breathed in the clean scent of the room.

You and Satoru donned your lab coats, the crisp white fabric settling over your sweat-marked clothes.

Hours melted away, measured not in minutes but in pipette drops and cell cultures.

You both worked in perfect sync as you prepared the CAR-T cells for the next phase of testing. Your hands were steady and sure as you thawed the cells, counted microscopic lives, and ensured their viability.

Outside, the sky had darkened.

Blue fading to a deep, inky black as a storm brewed on the horizon.

Occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the lab, throwing everything into stark relief for the briefest of moments, before releasing you back into the warm embrace of the indoor lights. Then, rain began its assault on the windows.

As the night wore on, you could feel the exhaustion of the day catching up with you. Your eyelids grew heavy, nearly causing you to fall asleep at your workstation.

But then, Satoru appeared beside you. He placed his hand on your shoulder, waking you from your slumber. "Come on," he said softly. "Let's go home."

You straightened up, stretching your arms overhead in a vain attempt to work out the tension in your muscles after hours hunched over the lab bench. You glanced out the window. Sheets of rain lashed against the glass, blurring the lights of the campus into smears of color.

"It raining again," you mused.

"Yeah, it is," Satoru agreed. His hand lingering on your shoulder, his fingers gently kneading the stiffness out of your muscles.

You leaned into his touch.

─── ·✧· ───

The university doors swung open with a heavy groan.

It was still pouring.

Rain fell in thick, unforgiving curtains, as if the sky itself were melting, plunging the parking lot into darkness. Only the faint glow of sparse streetlights pierced the watery veil, their light fracturing and shifting across the pavement.

Satoru and you stood at the threshold, momentarily stunned by the relentless deluge.

"You don't happen to have an umbrella somewhere, do you?" you asked.

"Nope."

"So...we just wait it out?"

"My car's parked closer," Satoru said, already shrugging out of his suit jacket. He held it above your heads. "Come on, I'll give you a ride to yours."

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options. But the rain showed no signs of stopping, and exhaustion tugged at your bones.

Decision made, you huddled closer to Satoru, grasping the edges of his jacket. His hand found the small of your back as he guided you towards his car, your footsteps splashing through the puddles.

The rain pounded against your skin, soaking through your clothes within seconds, the fabric clinging to your body like a second skin. Satoru pulled you closer, your bodies pressing together as you made the final dash to the car.

He opened the passenger door for you, and you practically dove inside. Satoru slid into the driver's seat beside you, rain dripping from his hair.

"Quite the rainy autumn we're having, isn't it?" He shook his head like a wet dog, sending droplets of water flying in every direction.

"Stop it!" You held up your hands to shield yourself. "What are you, a dog?"

"For you? Absolutely."

"God, you're impossible."

"Says the woman who threw her coffee at me earlier." He reached out, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and flicked a stray droplet of water from the tip of your nose. "Need me to towel you off, first-year?"

"In your dreams, Professor," you retorted, swatting at his hand. "And for the record, you totally deserved it."

"You're always so feisty."

"And you're incredibly annoying."

He navigated the car out of the faculty parking lot and towards the student section on the other side of the campus.

It wasn't long until he pulled up next to your car.

Heavy silence fell, broken only by the relentless patter of rain against metal and glass, and the distant, growling promise of thunder. Neither of you made a move to leave. The windshield wipers swished back and forth.

Satoru's arm rested casually on the steering wheel. He turned to face you fully, his gaze lingering on your face with an intensity that made your lungs forget their purpose.

"Thanks for the ride," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder might shatter the moment.

"Anytime, love."

Satoru's eyes traced the contours of your face, lingering on the droplets of water that clung to your eyelashes, the way your damp hair framed your face, the soft curve of your lips. The longing in his eyes unmistakable.

The car suddenly felt too small, too intimate.

Satoru reached out, his hand cupping your cheek. His thumb gently traced your jaw, causing you to take a shuddering breath.

"What did we say about you looking at me like that?"

He held your gaze, unflinching, as his thumb ghosted over your lips, parting them with the gentlest of pressures. A slow, lazy smile unfurled across his face. "Can't help it, love. It's the only way I know how to look at you."

"You're stupid." You pulled away from his touch, unable to stand the hammering of your heart in your chest any longer.

Suddenly, the rain outside intensified. Its steady drumming on the roof grew louder, as if someone had upended an ocean above you.

"Shit." Your eyes darted to the windshield, now a cascading waterfall of glass and water, the outside world reduced to a mere blur.

Satoru switched off the engine, the sudden absence of its low hum making the sound of the rain seem even louder. "Let's just wait it out for a bit. Until the rain lets up." He sank deeper into his seat, his long legs stretched out before him.

With a sigh, you also sank deeper into the leather seat.

Silence fell again.

Neither of you moved.

Until, Satoru's hand reached for yours, his fingers interlacing with yours like puzzle pieces falling into place. His thumb tenderly caressed the back of your hand.

"Remember that first night we stayed late in the lab?" he began. "It was way past 3 AM, you fell asleep at your desk and I just... I couldn't take my eyes off you. You looked so peaceful, so damn adorable curled up there."

He brought your hand to his lips, his warm breath tickling your knuckles as he placed a kiss upon them.

"I kept thinking how wrong it was to stare at you like that, to feel the things I was feeling. You were my student after all. But when I woke you, and you blinked up at me with those eyes... I swear, I could've lost myself in them forever." He paused, a faint smile playing on his lips. "We talked for a bit, remember?"

"I do," you whispered.

"In that moment, I realized I could talk to you for hours and never get tired of hearing your voice. I've never really felt like this before." His gaze met yours. "That's when I knew you were it for me."

"It?"

"The one I want to spend my life with."

"You knew, even back then?"

"Yeah," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "That was the night I fell in love with you, the night I knew I was totally screwed. Because I promised myself I'd make you mine, no matter what it took or how long I had to wait."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"I don't know. I just felt like you should know."

You searched his face, looking for any clue to explain this sudden vulnerability. Was it the intimacy of the moment? His withdrawal? Or was there something else, something he wasn't telling you?

He glanced down at your intertwined hands, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. But as he did, his hand suddenly twitched, the muscles spasming involuntarily. He pulled back, flexing his fingers with a grimace.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"You should take something. You've been in withdrawal the whole day."

Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against the steering wheel, his knuckles bleaching white as he clung to it. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding himself together.

"You're being stupid," you said bluntly. "Come on, didn't you say you deserved a treat for those brilliant research ideas of yours, or something like that?"

He lifted his head, blinking at you. "Brilliant?"

"Mediocre at best."

"Ouch."

"Come on, Satoru. Please. I can't stand seeing you in pain," you said softly.

With a sigh, he reached behind him, fingers slipping into the back pocket of his trousers. He retrieved a small blister pack, the pills rattling softly. He pulled out a single round pill and brought it to his lips.

But then he hesitated. "Wait." His gaze flickered back to you, a smirk forming on his lips. "Open you mouth for me, sweetheart."

"Ha?"

His smirk widened. "C'mon, you know I love the taste of hydromorphone on your tongue."

You pulled away. "You're such an asshole, Satoru."

But he was already closing the gap, his body pressing against yours. "Why so hesitant now? I seem to recall a time when you happily submitted to me doing drugs off your tongue." Slowly, deliberately, he trailed his fingertips along your thigh, leaving trails of heat even through the fabric of your pants.

"In your dreams," you scoffed.

"If you'd prefer, I can lick it off somewhere else." His wandering hand dipped lower, caressing your inner thigh, fingertips trailing dangerously close. "Just tell me where you need it, love. I'm more than happy to oblige."

"Stop it." You squirmed back until you were pressed against the passenger door.

"You know, I love it when you resist. Makes the game so much more exciting." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin.

"Stop it already, you creep," you hissed, raising your foot to press against his firm chest, trying to maintain some distance between your bodies. "We're in the middle of the damn university parking lot."

"Now, don't tell me you've gone all shy on me?" He grasped your ankle, long fingers warm and strong against your skin, and started to trail kisses along your clothed inner thigh, while he pushed your legs apart with his other hand. "It's not like it's raining, sweetheart. No one's gonna see us anyway."

A strangled gasp escaped your throat as he neared your core, your traitorous body arching into his touch.

He paused, glancing up at you through white lashes, eyes molten. "So why don't you tell me exactly where you want me to lick it off you, hm? 'Cause my withdrawal's hitting hard and I don't know how much longer I can control myself before I decide where you need my tongue most."

Your heart raced, pulse pounding in your ears as he shifted closer, his head firmly nestled between your parted thighs now. You could feel the scorching heat of his breath against your clothed sex, while his fingers crept higher, caressing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

But you remained stubborn.

"You're impossib—" Your words cut off in a choked moan as he lowered his head, his lips brushing over your clothed heat, his hot breath seeping through the fabric of your pants.

Satoru looked up at you, his eyes dark. "So stubborn, yet so weak," he said, his fingers brushing lightly over your inner thigh. "Your body always betrays you, love. It can't resist me."

You bit your lip, suppressing the urge to wipe that smug look off his face with a well-aimed kick.

The bastard knew exactly how to push your buttons.

Then your phone buzzed, the sound thankfully cutting through the haze.

"Wait," you breathed, pushing him away with your foot pressed against his chest. You quickly straightened, reaching for your phone with trembling hands. Glancing at the screen, you saw that Maki had sent you the details for Naoya's upcoming party.

But Satoru showed no signs of retreat. His lips found your thighs again, each kiss a brand against your skin. "What is it?" he murmured.

"Nothing." You tried to focus on your phone, fighting the sensation that threatened to drown your common sense. "Maki just sent me the details for a party this weekend."

Satoru immediately stopped, his head snapping up, his eyes narrowing as he fixed you with a hard stare. "A party? You remember what happened the last time you went out, right?"

You yanked your leg back from him. "It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Satoru scoffed, his tone sharp. "You got drugged, for fuck's sake."

"That was one time, Satoru."

"And it could happen again, just as easily."

"It's fine, I'll be with my friends. I don't need you to babysit me, Satoru."

Satoru ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face. "I'm not trying to babysit you, dammit. I'm trying to keep you safe. You have no idea what could've happened to you that night."

"So what? I'm not a child. I can make my own decisions. And right now, I wanna go to that stupid party at Naoya's."

"Naoya? Are you fucking kidding me?" Satoru's eyes narrowed. "You wanna go to a party thrown by the same fucker who tried to drug you? Have you lost your goddamn mind?"

Something inside you snapped. "Have you lost your mind? Who the hell are you to order me around like this?"

Satoru flinched, confusion clouding his face. "What? Wait, what's going on with you? What's wrong, love?"

"I'm not yours anymore, remember? Or did you conveniently forget that you pushed me away, broke my heart? You have no right to command me, no fucking right to decide."

It was stupid, you knew it.

Some rational part of your brain screamed at you to stop, but it was drowned out by the roar of your emotions. You were tired, so goddamn tired of him wanting to protect you while he was literally falling apart at the seams.

Perhaps it was more the guilt that spoke out of you, the searing self-loathing that burned like acid in your gut. But in this moment, you couldn't stand the sight of him.

Or perhaps you couldn't stand yourself.

You reached for the door handle, desperate to escape the suffocating confines of the car, to put some distance between you and Satoru. But the door was locked.

You turned to face him. "Are you for real right now, Satoru? Unlock the fucking door."

"We're not done with this conversation."

"Oh, I think we are."

"Naoya tried to drug you back then, probably tried to fucking rape you. You're aware of this, aren't you?" Satoru's voice was harsh, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought his teeth might shatter.

"And now what?" you exploded, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them. "Should I just lock myself away? Never go out, never have any fucking fun, never live a normal goddamn life? I barely sleep, you know that? I'm constantly doing research, going to classes, studying for exams. I don't get to have the typical university experience, the friendships, the stupid parties. And now, the one time I want to feel like a normal fucking student being for once, you want to take that away from me too? Like you haven't already taken everything else?"

The moment the words left your mouth, you felt sick.

It was unfair.

You knew it.

You knew that Satoru only wanted to protect you.

And you hated him for that.

And you hated yourself even more for hating him.

But still, you couldn't stop. Why couldn't you stop them? Why did it feel so sickeningly good to lash out, to hurt him like you were hurting?

Anger.

What that the feeling?

Not really at him. But at yourself.

It was easier to blame him, wasn't it?

Easier than facing the ugly truth about yourself.

Or so you thought.

Your chest heaved, your heart slamming against your ribcage. "I'm tired, Satoru. I'm so fucking sick and tired of it all."

Satoru only stared at you, his mouth slightly agape, eyes wide with shock and something that looked painfully like understanding.

He was silent.

You lunged forward, reaching across Satoru's lap to unlock the door on his side, needing to escape. Your fingers grazed the lock. But before you could press the button, his hand caught your wrist in a firm grip. You struggled against him, trying to break free. But he held you tight.

"Let me go, Satoru," you demanded. "You can't keep me here, you fucking asshole."

With a swift movement, he pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist like iron bands, holding you firmly against his chest. You gasped, your hands instinctively bracing against his broad shoulders as you found yourself straddling him.

Satoru's hand moved to cradle your face, his touch so strangely tender, all anger vanished from his eyes.

For a moment, the world around you fell away. Only the rain remained, a relentless drumbeat on the car roof, and your hearts racing as thunder rumbled in the distance.

Darkness enveloped you, broken only by flashes of lightning. In those brief moments of illumination, you drowned in each other's gaze before plunging back into blackness.

"I know you're hurting. I know I'm the one who hurt you." His words were a hoarse whisper, each syllable laden with regret. "I know you didn't choose this, but you stay by my side regardless. And I feel like shit about it, because I know it's selfish of me to still want you, after everything I've put you through. I know I have no right to ask for this. But I'm asking anyway. Because I love you. I never stopped loving you, not for a single fucking second."

Your breath hitched, a painful catch in your throat.

"Stop," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain and the thunder. "Stop saying you love me. I can't—"

He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours. His breath, warm and ragged, mingling with yours in the small space between your lips. His fingers tangled in your hair, cradling the back of your head as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

"I know. I know. But I can't help how I feel, can't fight this fucking pull you have on me, this cursed hold you have over my heart."

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling your defenses crumble like sand castles against a rising tide.

"It's tearing me apart, being without you," he confessed. His brows knitted together, pain etched into every line of his face. "No matter how much time passes, no matter how hard I try to stay away, to move on, my heart will always belong to you. It beats for you, only for you. I'm so fucking lost without you, so empty, so incomplete—"

You crashed your lips against Satoru's, silencing his rambling confession.

Your heart overruled your head. Against your better judgment, against every instinct screaming at you not to, to protect yourself from the inevitable hurt.

You knew it was a mistake.

You knew that it would end in heartbreak again — like it always did with Satoru. But damn it, you couldn't take it any longer. Not when he said those things.

It was maddening, this contradiction.

Wanting to flee and needing to stay. Loving him so deeply it hurt and hating him for having such power over you. Being terrified of the pain he could inflict and still knowing, with bone-deep certainty, that you'd weather any storm to be by his side.

No, you couldn't resist him.

Not now, not ever.

You were water in his hands, fluid and formless, sometimes losing your own shape in the tidal wave that was Satoru's love. You were rain in his storm, mist in his morning, ice in his winter. But it didn't matter.

For you would gladly be formless in his hands if it meant being close to him. For he was the moon to your tides, the wind to your waves, the earth that carved your path. He brought motion to your stillness, depth to your shallows.

Because a life without Satoru wasn't really living at all.

Satoru was caught off guard, his words dying on his tongue as he melted into your embrace, his arms tightening around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he couldn't bear even an inch of space between your bodies.

The kiss was messy, a clash of teeth and tongues. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him deeper into the kiss, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

"Wait, what—" he tried to say between kisses.

Shut up, you thought to yourself. Shut up, you told your doubts, your fears, your guilt. Just shut up and let me have this.

Let me have him. Just for tonight.

Just for now.

"Shut up, Satoru," you breathed against his lips before claiming them again. "Just shut up and fucking kiss me."

He hesitated for a moment, but then surrendered. His lips crashed against yours once more, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you impossibly closer.

Satoru's hands roamed over your back, your sides, your hips, touching you like it might be the last time he could ever feel your skin beneath his fingertips.

The rain pounded against the car roof, the thunder rumbling in the distance. But hell, neither of you cared about the storm raging outside. There was only Satoru, his body pressed up against yours, his every touch setting you on fire in a way that only he could.

"Thought you were pissed at me?" He asked between sloppy, urgent kisses, his hands roaming over your body.

"When am I not pissed at you, stupid."

You could feel his lips curve into a grin against yours. "Fair point."

You shut him up with another deep kiss, your hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him against you. "Stop talking," you panted against his mouth.

The kiss intensified, turning messy and desperate.

Satoru's hands found their way under your drenched shirt, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of your back, making you shiver despite the heat. You gasped into the kiss, hips grinding against his, the searing heat between your bodies rising with each passing second.

He fumbled with the buttons of your white shirt, his fingers trembling with urgency like he couldn't get it off you fast enough. When the wet fabric finally fell open, he claimed your mouth again, his tongue pushing past your lips to tangle with yours.

His hand inched higher, gliding over your hip, your waist, before cupping your breast through the flimsy lace of your bra.

A moan escaped your lips as you briefly broke the kiss, but he claimed your lips in mere seconds again, silencing the soft tones that fell from your lips. Your hips moved against him on their own, desperate for more of his touch, more of the maddening friction between your bodies.

Satoru's other hand dug into your hip, holding you in place as he rubbed against you, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his slacks.

He smirked, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before trailing scorching kisses along your jaw and down your neck, his fingers roaming over your bra. You melted into his touch, your head falling back as his mouth traveled lower.

His hands cupped your breasts, caressing the soft skin before his finger shoved the lacy fabric aside. His thumbs brushed over your hardened nipples, making you suck in a sharp breath.

Satoru's smirk turned wicked as he dipped his head, his heated breath fanning over your skin. "God, you're so beautiful," he rasped.

Without warning, his tongue darted out, swirling around one nipple. You moaned, your fingers clawing at his hair, keeping his head in place.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking hard, his teeth scraping your skin, while his other hand stayed locked on your hip, grinding you down onto his hard erection. Your mind reeled, your body melting into him, arching closer to his mouth.

He alternated between your breasts, licking, sucking, nipping at your hard nipples until you were a squirming, panting mess in his lap, your hips rolling against his, chasing any kind of friction you could get.

"Satoru, please," you whined. "Please—"

He gave your nipple one last long lick before pulling back, his eyes hooded and hazy as they locked with yours. "What do you need, love?" he asked, his voice rough and strained. "Tell me."

"You," you panted, your hands fumbling with his belt, your fingers trembling with urgency. "I need you. Only you. Now. Ever. Always."

"God, what are you doing to me?" He said before crashing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue shoving into your mouth, tangling with yours. His hands joined yours, swiftly undoing his belt and zipper, before his fingers latched onto the fabric of your pants.

"You attached to these?" he growled against your lips.

"Wha—?" you managed to get out before you heard the unmistakable sound of ripping fabric.

Your brain couldn't even process that he'd just shredded your pants before he shoved the tattered remains aside and plunged his fingers deep into you in mere seconds.

You gasped at the sudden stretch, your walls stretching and clenching around his fingers as he buried them to the knuckle inside you.

You arched into his touch, your head thudding back against the steamed-up window. Your eyes squeezed shut, mouth falling open on a silent scream as he he pushed his fingers deeper still.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Satoru groaned against the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your sweat-dampened skin. "And so goddamn wet. Fucking soaked for me."

"Shut up."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tight, keeping him close. You rolled your hips, grinding down on his fingers, aching for more friction, more of him, just — more.

Satoru claimed your lips once more, his tongue plundering your mouth as if he were trying to devour you whole. His fingers pushed into you to the hilt, so deep you swore you could feel him brushing against your cervix, but he kept them maddeningly still.

Outside, the storm showed no signs of letting up, the howling wind whipping the trees into a frenzy, the rain hammering relentlessly against the car. The windows were completely fogged over. The air thick and humid.

Satoru tore his mouth from yours, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths, his chest heaving. "Fuck, I love you," he rasped. "I fucking love you so much."

"I fucking hate you, Satoru."

Your head tipped back as his thumb joined the torturous game, circling your clit in maddeningly slow, tight circles that made your thighs tremble.

"No, you don't." His lips trailed messy kisses down the column of your throat. "You love me. You're just too stubborn to admit it."

You bit back a moan as he nipped at your neck, no doubt leaving a mark. "I hate you," you said, even as you rocked your hips shamelessly against his hand, fucking yourself on his fingers that he so cruelly refused to move, trying to get what you needed. "I hate you so fucking much."

"Keep telling yourself that, love." He curled his fingers inside you, pressing against your G-spot in a way that made you cry out. "But your body doesn't lie. You're fucking dripping for me."

Moans clawed their way out of your throat as his fingers rubbed relentlessly against that sensitive spot inside you, his thumb flicking over your clit in time with his strokes. But he still didn't move his fingers in and out, didn't give you the friction you needed to come.

"Satoru, please," you whimpered. "I need... Fuck, I need..."

"Use your words, love. Tell me what you need, and I'll give it to you."

You moaned, your hips twitching, trying to grind down on his maddeningly still fingers. "I need you to fucking move, you dickhead. I need you to make me come."

"Now, was that so hard?" Satoru's lips curved into a wicked grin against your neck. "All you had to do was ask nicely."

And with that, he finally, finally started to move.

His fingers pumped in and out of your clenching heat in a fast and steady rhythm that had your breath hitching. His thumb circled your clit faster, harder, applying just the right amount of pressure.

"God, you're such a fucking dickhead, Satoru," you said, even as you clung to him, your fingers tangled in his white hair as he drove you closer and closer to the edge.

He let out a low, throaty moan, his free hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, guiding your movements as you rode his fingers. "Fuck, I love it when you say that."

"What, that you're a dickhead?"

"No, my name," he panted. "Say it again."

You halted for a moment, your breath catching in your throat.

You gazed deeply into Satoru's eyes, the vibrant blue searing into your very soul even in the shadowy confines of the car. His heavy-lidded stare pinned you in place, his parted lips mere inches from yours, his ragged breaths ghosting over your lips.

"Say it."

"Satoru," you whispered hesitantly.

"Again."

"Satoru," you breathed once more.

"Say it again. I need to hear it." His fingers flexed where they rested on your thigh, tension thrumming through his frame.

"Satoru."

"Again, love. Say the name of the man who's on his knees for you."

"Satoru."

"Say the name of the man who would rip his heart out for you and lay it at your feet."

"Satoru," you moaned as you felt his fingers thrust deeper into you.

"Again. Say the name of the man who's fucking you so good."

"Satoru," you moaned, his name punched out of you on a sudden hard thrust of his fingers. Your hand shot up, bracing against the roof of the car to steady yourself as he increased the pace, your walls clenching around his fingers. "Satoru, fuck, Satoru—"

He crashed his lips against yours, swallowing your desperate chant of his name. "Oh love, you'll be the fucking death of me," he said against your mouth. "I'm so addicted to you."

He kissed you then, deep and slow and full of desperation. Like he was trying to pour every ounce of his love into the press of his lips against yours. Like he wanted to merge with you, to fuse your hearts together until there was no telling where he ended and you began.

And oh, how you wanted to let him.

Wanted to surrender yourself completely to this man, this man that was equally your undoing as he was your salvation. This man who looked at you like you were his entire universe, who touched you like you were something sacred, something to be cherished, adored, and fucked dump with every fiber of his being.

Because this man, this beautiful, broken, perfect man, loved you with every shattered piece of his heart. He would gladly bleed himself dry for you.

And you would gladly do the same.

Because Satoru Gojo was your once-in-a-lifetime.

Your soulmate, your other half, your forever.

And you were his.

For always and eternity.

He ducked his head then, latching onto your nipples again, sucking on them. His thumb pressed hard against your clit, rubbing fast, tight circles that had you hurtling towards the edge embarrassingly fast.

You could feel your orgasm building, your thighs starting to tremble, your walls starting to pulse around his fingers.

"Don't stop." Your head hits the foggy window again. "Fuck, Satoru, don't you dare fucking stop, I'm so close, I'm gonna—"

He doubled his efforts, his fingers curling just right to hit that perfect spot inside you with every deep thrust, his thumb grinding hard against your throbbing clit. "You're doing so fucking good for me, love." His tongue flicked out to swirl around your nipple. "Come all over my fingers. Fucking soak them. Let me feel you."

With one final brutal thrust of his fingers, one last rough swipe of his thumb, you shattered, your body convulsing in his lap.

Satoru held you close, his lips pressing messy kisses to your breasts as you clenched tightly around his fingers, your release gushing out to coat his hand and drip down his wrist.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn beautiful when you come," Satoru rasped, his fingers still pumping slowly, drawing out your orgasm for as long as possible, draining every last bit of bliss from your trembling body.

You shuddered and twitched in his lap as he worked you through your orgasm. Your thighs went weak, your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. Your chest heaved fast, heart racing.

Finally, after what felt like a fucking eternity, Satoru gently withdrew his fingers. You let out a pathetic whimper at the loss, feeling strangely empty without him buried inside you.

He leaned in, his lips capturing yours. You moaned into the kiss, your hands scrabbling under his wet shirt, desperate to touch, to feel, to possess, your fingers roaming over the defined planes of his sweat-slicked chest.

Then, you reached between your bodies, your fingers hastening to free his cock from the confines of his slacks. Satoru hissed through clenched teeth as your hand wrapped around his shaft.

"Fuck." His eyes slammed shut, his brow furrowing as if the sensation of your fingers on him was almost too much to bear. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple.

You stroked him slowly, almost teasingly, your thumb swirling around the swollen, sensitive head, smearing the drops of pre-cum that had gathered at his slit.

Satoru's breath came in harsh, ragged gasps, his hands fisting in your hair, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. But you barely registered the sting, too focused on his hard length throbbing in your palm.

He ground out your name, his voice strained, almost pained. "Fuck, don't stop. Your hand feels so good, you feel so good. You're always so perfect for me."

Your fingers tightened around his shaft in response, your pace increasing as you worked him from root to tip and back again, twisting your wrist on the upstroke in the way you knew he loved.

Satoru's head fell back against the headrest, a rough moan ripping from deep in his chest as his eyes rolled back in his skull, his mouth hanging open as he let out a string of loud, unrestrained moans that sent heat straight to your core.

"Fuck, I swear I'm gonna marry you one day, first-year," he groaned, cum leaking out of him on every stroke. "I'm gonna make you mine."

His abs flexed and jumped under your splayed palm as you brushed upwards beneath his dampened shirt, your nails lightly scraping against his heated skin. "You're talking nonsense, Satoru."

"I'm not," he countered. "You have no idea, fuck, the things you do to me, the way you make me feel—"

He trailed off on a moan as your hand slowed its pace, your fingers barely grazing his throbbing length, teasing him with feather-light touches that had him gritting his teeth in frustration. But then, to your surprise, he laughed.

"You're such a fucking tease."

"Oh, am I?" you said.

Your thumb swirled around the swollen, leaking head, gathering the bead of precum that had formed there and spreading it over the silky skin, drawing a harsh hiss from his parted lips.

Slowly, teasingly, you brought your thumb to your mouth, your tongue darting out to lick the salty-bitter cum of him from your fingertips, your eyes locked on his.

Then, before he could react, you leaned in to capture his lips in a messy kiss, your tongue delving deep to tangle with his, making him taste himself on you, making him moan into your mouth.

Your hand returned to his cock, your fingers wrapping around his shaft and squeezing lightly, just enough to make him gasp before you began to stroke him, your hand flying over his shaft, your grip tight and perfect.

He let out a choked sound, his head falling back against the headrest once more, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought to keep his composure. His moans grew louder and more desperate with each inch of your hand, until you were sure that if anyone was in the parking lot, they would surely hear it.

But just as you could feel him throbbing and pulsing in your hand, his own hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist in a grip that was almost painful, stopping your movements.

"Wait," he gasped, his breath coming in harsh pants as his chest heaved with the effort of holding back. "Fuck, I love you. I love you so goddamn much it fucking terrifies me sometimes. But right now, I really, really fucking need you to let me fuck you already, before I completely lose my goddamn mind."

You released your grip on his cock, your fingers trailing up his abs, his chest, as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his.

"Then take me," you whispered. "Make me yours, Satoru."

And he did just that, his hands gripping your hips hard as he lifted you effortlessly, positioning you over his lap, your knees bracketing his hips. You could feel the hard, hot length of him throbbing against your core, separated only by the thin, soaked fabric of your underwear.

He reached between your bodies, his fingers hooking into the fabric and pulling it aside. Then, he lowered you onto him, inch by inch, savoring the stretch and burn of his thick length as he filled you, completed you, made you whole in a way that nothing else ever could.

Satoru's mouth fell open on a silent scream. His head resting heavily against the headrest as he lowered you deeper and deeper, until he was fully seated inside you, buried to the hilt.

For a long moment, you simply stayed like that.

His chest heaved, sweat beading on his brow, his skin fevered as he fought to maintain control, to not just lose himself. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, every muscle tight with the effort of keeping still, of not just fucking up into you.

As you made to move, Satoru's hands tightened on your hips, halting your movements again. "Wait." His eyes squeezed shut, his brow furrowing as if he were in agony. "Just... just give me a second, fuck, I can't—I'm gonna come if you move, you feel too fucking good."

He tried to relax beneath you, to calm his racing heart. But the slight shift caused his cock to move inside you, rubbing tortuously against your sensitive walls, making you both moan into each other's mouths.

Satoru's hips twitched helplessly, his body screaming at him to move, to thrust, to claim.

"God, why do you always feel so fucking incredible?" he groaned, fingers flexing on your hips, his abs clenching and rippling under your palms as he struggled for control. "So tight and wet and perfect around me, like you were made for me, just for me."

"Satoru, please,," you whined, feeling his length throb and pulse inside you. "Fuck me already."

"Just—just give me a minute," he panted, even as his hips started to rock almost involuntarily, grinding into you with shallow, teasing thrusts that had your core turn molten. "I'm so fucking close already, you feel too fucking good."

Despite his words, he slowly started to move his hips, thrusting into you with barely-there movements that had you whimpering against his lips. He was so big, so thick, stretching you to your limits and beyond, filling you so completely that it felt like he was touching every part of you at once.

Satoru's gaze was heavy on you, moans falling from his parted lips. "Fuck, do you have any idea what you do to me? How crazy you make me? I can't fucking think straight when I'm inside you. All I can focus on is how good you feel, how badly I need to make you come on my cock, need to fill you up until you're dripping with my cum."

"Then do it." You braced your hands on his sweat-slicked chest for leverage as you began to move, rising and falling on his thick length, setting a slow, deep pace that had you both gasping and moaning into each other's open mouths. "Stop talking and make me scream your name already."

He didn't need to hear more.

Satoru met your every movement, his hips surging up to meet yours, his cock hitting all the right spots deep inside you.

He withdrew almost fully before slamming back in, the thick, heavy weight of him stretching you anew with each drive of his hips, your sweat-slicked bodies sliding against each other.

The world outside the fogged windows faded until there was nothing but this, nothing but him, nothing but the intoxicating slide of his thick cock splitting you open again and again and again.

You clung to the back of Satoru's seat with one hand, fingers digging into the leather. Satoru's hands on your hips, guiding your movements, urging you to take him deeper, harder, faster.

Your lips met again, all teeth and tongue, your moans and gasps and whimpers swallowed up by each other's mouths.

"Fuck, love, fuck," Satoru groaned. "I'm so close, I'm not gonna last much longer—"

You felt him pulsing and throbbing inside you, his cock swelling impossibly, stretching you even fuller. Your body trembled, your walls clenching around his length.

Satoru's hand slipped between your sweat-slicked bodies, his fingers finding your clit. He rubbed fast circles against it, drawing a choked cry from your lips.

"Come for me, love," he panted against your mouth. "Wanna feel you come on my cock."

Just as you were about to let go, a shrill ringing filled the car, making you shutter for a second. Satoru's phone, connected to the car's Bluetooth system, lit up the dashboard with an incoming call.

"Ignore it." Satoru's fingers never ceased their madness against your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Don't you fucking stop now—"

You tried to ignore it. Your hips grinded down onto his, chasing the release that was so close, so tantalizingly close you could almost taste it.

With one hand still gripping your hip, Satoru fumbled for the button on the steering wheel to decline the call and shut up the damn ringing. But in his haste, his finger slipped, accidentally pressing the accept button instead — just as your orgasm crashed over you.

He quickly clamped his large hand over your mouth, muffling the loud moan that tore from your throat as you shattered in his arms, your body convulsing and shaking.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight—I'm—shit, yes, just like that, I'm gonna—" Satoru babbled incoherently as your walls clamped down around his throbbing cock, squeezing him so tightly that he had no choice but to follow you over the edge.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin, biting back his own moans as he spilled himself inside you, his hips shuddering and twitching as he pumped you full of his cum, each contraction of your core drawing another fresh load from him.

You could feel his cum flooding your depths, the feeling of him pulsing and throbbing inside you was almost too much, and for a moment you completely forgot about the caller on the other end of the line.

"Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing right now."

The female voice crackled through the speakers.

Fuck. You knew that voice.

You knew it all too well.

Slowly, you felt Satoru's hot cum start to leak out of you, trickling down between your trembling thighs to stain the expensive leather seats of his car.

He started to rock his hips again, lazily stuffing his own cum back into you with shallow thrusts of his still hard cock. Every time he bottomed out, squelchy, wet noises filled the otherwise silent car. You winced at the overstimulation, sinking your teeth into his palm to muffle another desperate whimper.

Shit, there was no way she hadn't heard that.

You wanted to die right then and there.

"God, Satoru, have you no shame?"

"What do you want, mother?" Satoru ground out, not bothering to lift his head from where it was buried in the crook of your neck, his hips still lazily thrusting into you.

"What do I want? You're the one who wants something from us, remember? You really expect us to just hand over that kind of money for your little lawsuit without so much as a visit first? Where are your manners, Satoru?"

"It's my money."

"It's our property, you ungrateful brat. The least you can do is spare us a measly dinner in return. Is that really so much to ask?"

"Why? So you can lecture me again about what a massive disappointment I am to the family? Thanks, but I think I'll pass."

"You're so resentful, Satoru. We just want what's best for you, can't you see that?"

"Oh, you mean the years of emotional abuse and manipulation? Yeah, real thoughtful of you, thanks for that."

"Abuse? Oh, don't be so dramatic. We're asking you to honor your family with a simple dinner, and you act like it's some great burden. The sheer arrogance—"

"You narcissistic bi—"

His mother cut him off, her voice rising sharply. "Need I remind you that you are still relying on our assets for this little legal venture of yours? You'd do well to show a little more respect and gratitude, young man."

Satoru stilled his moments and let out a low growl. Finally, he lifted his head from your neck, staring at the phone on the dashboard like he could incinerate it with his gaze alone. "When?"

"Next weekend would be fine. I trust you can spare us a few hours out of your busy schedule of debauchery and disrespect?"

"Fine," Satoru spat, reaching out to viciously stab the button to end the call before his mother could get another word in.

Silence filled the car.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

Satoru's chest heaved against yours, his heart pounding so hard you could feel it thrumming through your own ribcage. His fingers flexed on your hips, digging into your flesh hard, his whole body practically vibrating with barely-contained fury.

You watched as Satoru let his head fall back against the headrest, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see a muscle ticking in his cheek.

She reached out and gently brushed the damp strands of hair away from his forehead, while he was still buried deep inside you. "You okay?"

"They're the fucking worst."

"Is this about Naoya's lawsuit?"

"Yeah." He let out a heavy sigh, his breath warm and damp against your skin. "The little shit is demanding an absurd amount of money, way more than I have on hand. I had to use my family's funds to cover it, should have known they would want something in return."

"Satoru, you don't have to do this. We can find another way, figure something else out."

"And what? Drag you into a messy court case? No fucking way," he said. "I won't let you go through that. Not if I can help it."

Silence settled over the car again.

"I'm going with you," you said suddenly.

"Huh?"

"You think I'd let you go alone to your parents?"

"You don't have to do that. I can't ask you to—"

"I want to," you insisted. "We're in this together, Satoru, for better or worse."

He took a deep breath, considering.

"You can't stop me anyway, you know it," you added.

He stared at you for second longer, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to peer into your very soul, to gauge the depth and sincerity of your words.

You could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes, the conflict raging inside him as he wrestled with his instinctive need to protect you and his desperate want to accept the lifeline you were offering.

"You'll hate it," he said.

"More than you?"

"Probably."

"Sounds fun to me."

Then, slowly, a smile began to tug at the corners of his lips.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you so goddamn much, you know that?"

"I hate you."

Satoru huffed. His hands slid up your back to tangle in your hair, tugging you down until your forehead rested against his as his cum continued to drip out of you, trickling down your inner thighs in sticky, obscene rivulets to stain the seats of his car.

"You've been saying that a lot lately."

"Yeah, because you keep forgetting."

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: soooo, this chapter was quite challenging for me, even though it's about 50 % smut, which I also find difficult to write. this time, it was more about the other things going on in the story. i've been rewriting it for two whole days because i suddenly didn't like the original vibe and made it angsty again.

i'm not sure if the motives and feelings of the reader character are conveyed well due to these sudden changes i made. anyway, maybe i'm overthinking it a bit.

but thank you so so much for the love and support you've shown for the s&c spin-off remedies and reasons !! my heart is so full knowing that so many of you enjoy diving into suguru's story, with all the heartbreak and hurt. but rest assured, there will be comfort and happiness for him too :''))

lastly, thank you so much for reading !! if you enjoyed this chapter, i'd be thrilled if you could reblog it or leave a comment. your support means the world to me :)) i hope you have the most fantastic day and an even better week ahead, whenever you're reading this! :)) <33

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy

@neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced

@heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator

@erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11

@kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie

@billiondollarworth @deluluforcarlos55 @starrynight-777 @vina21 @michelleeveline

@boba-is-a-soup @cre8inghavoc @love-jelly @daimiyu @d0nk3y-k0ng

@mo0nforme @smolbeanzzz @oneiricals @ynishalee @gojolvrr34

@nanasukii28 @ariiiii0938 @kelppsstuff @tojisdollx @drakenswifeyy

@bakarinnie @vina21 @phoenix-eclipses @neptnszn @nanamis-baker

@browrm @hfdkhjghjkghfj @marcillyan @roses-and-reeses @yungbloode

@throwmethroughawindow @starmapz @szired @dreamerofstarlight @myahfig4

@mua-for-now @yoghurtbrand @genshingeeksworld @nothisispatrick300

₊˚⊹ pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future, this way it's easier for me to keep track :) my other writing to pass time while waiting for the next chapter: masterlist ₊˚⊹

#symptoms and causes #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo fanfic #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo fanfiction #gojo fanfic #jjk fanfic #gojo angst

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gojos-thot-patrol · 10 months

Text

I've been promising this one for awhile.

Now Loading...

Starring: Mafia Boss!Sukuna

My contribution to @chrollohearttags Tales from the Underbelly collab! In which Gojo accidentally kidnaps the wrong girl, and our "heroes" have to decide what to do with her.

Content includes: slow burn smut, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, blood kink if ya squint, and slight indulgence of the writers breeding kink.

Trigger warnings include: Kidnapping, gun violence, gore, a dog attack, an attempt at assault and the use of the word "ravenette" once as a dare. Reader discretion is advised.

Your mom had warned you about meeting strange men online. You had assumed at the time it was just her weird boomer-esque tendencies, a fear born before the time of tinder. But as you breathed in your own breath from inside this itchy burlap sack, sitting tied up in this not-at-all comfortable chair, you started to think maaaybe she was on to something.

It wasn’t your fault though, truly it wasn’t. This guy was hot. Like, unbelievably hot. So hot it was stupid. So hot he belonged on the cover of french magazines or in summer blockbuster movies that sell tickets not for the plot- but for the eye candy. Who wouldn’t risk life and limb to get a piece of that? You wondered if Satoru Gojo was his real name, just in case you needed to make a police report. You wondered if you’d get that far.

Okay, Y/n, no no, don’t think like that. That will get you killed. Calm down and assess the situation. What did you last remember? Your date. You met him at a bar, and was genuinely shocked when he matched his profile picture. You made idle chit chat, and your drink came. Did you order that drink? You couldn’t remember now. You did remember it tasting salty for a screwdriver though…

Shit, that guy definitely drugged you. Why?! It made no sense, you probably would have fucked him if he had just asked nicely! Hell, even if he had asked rudely, there was no need for this! You silenced your thoughts as you heard movement. A door opened and the sound of boots on concrete echoed through a far too big to be practical room. And then, a familiar voice.

“No dude, I got her!” That was definitely Gojo, the fuck ass. “It was so easy too.” He was laughing, because of course he was.

“Yea, that’s the problem. Excuse me for being suspicious, but this feels way too easy considering how long we’ve been chasing this woman,” another, much smoother voice said. Oh god, what the fuck had you gotten yourself into now? Why the fuck did weird shit always have to happen to you? It was like you were the main character in some fucked up wattpad, or Tumblr, fanfiction.

“Nah dude, it’s the real deal. Toji doesn’t keep his girl as wrapped up as we’ve been led to believe.” Gojo’s far-too-joyful-for-your-taste voice came again. It was much closer this time. Your body tensed as you realized the two of them were right next to you. “I matched with her on fucking tinder dude! All according to plan!”

“We’ll see about that.” Smoothie voice said. As he did, the bag was ripped off your head, and quite honestly you were too shocked to scream. You took the situation in front of you in with wide panicked eyes. There was your shitty date, looking far too proud of himself considering all he did was kidnap a helpless girl. And another man, crouched in front of your metal chair, taking in your features. Was this just a gang of people that was so attractive it was unfair? He ran a hand though his long dark hair, and knitted his perfectly sculpted eyebrows together as he looked at you. Then shook his head and stood up.

“You really did it now, idiot, that’s the wrong girl!” The ravenette snapped at your former tinder match. Satoru just blinked in disbelief.

“What?” He asked, and Oh boy, your brain started working again! Just in time for you to start screaming at the top of your lungs as the truly horrifying nature of your situation settled into your bones. This startled the men, causing them both to scream, and the dark haired one to even stumble away from you.

“That was such a late reaction!!” Gojo yelled at you as he finally found words again.

“FUCK YOU SATORU GOJO, WHEN YOU KILL ME, I SWEAR I’M GOING TO HAUNT YOUR ASS!” You screamed at him, deciding if you were gonna die here you might as well fling a few threats around.

“You used your real name for the honeytrap?!” The unnamed man hissed, punching Gojo in the shoulder.

“Hey!” Gojo yelped, “I thought it was her! I didn’t think it was gonna matter! What are we going to do Suguru?!” Oh, so Suguru was his name. Good to know.

“Don’t say my name!” Suguru snapped. Too late, you knew it already. “The boss is not going to be happy, you know this, right?”

“Well I mean, I-” Gojo started, before you cut in.

“Can I at least know why you guys are gonna kill me before it happens?” You asked. You wanted to know what to avoid for your next life. Gojo had the audacity to scoff at you.

“Wow, I was literally talking and you interrupted me,” He scoffed, “Rude much?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll try to be more considerate of the man who drugged and kidnapped me next time I open my mouth! As if that wasn’t rude as hell!” You hissed.

“Get married later, we have other problems!” Suguru demanded, snapping in front of Satoru to get his attention. “The boss is going to be here any minute, and we have the wrong girl!”

“Why don’t we just kill her?” Gojo asked. And look at that, you were screaming again. They both screamed with you, Suguru screaming over you and adding a “CAN WE PLEASE ALL STOP SCREAMING?!” at the end.

And you did, because technically he had done nothing to wrong you, and you had no beef with him. Satoru shut up when you did. “Thank you!” He snapped, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples to try and fight off the migraine that was forming. “No, Gojo, we can’t just kill her! She’s an innocent, it goes against the code. You and I both know The Boss would have you castrated if you break the code.” Suguru reminded the man next to him. Oh, that was good news.

“So, I’m not gonna die?” You asked.

“You’re not gonna die.” “Nothing is off the table yet.” The men spoke in unison, glaring at each other as they finished their sentences.

“Sooooooo, you’re gonna let me go?!” You asked, beaming with a forced excitement, hoping it would rub off on them and they’d untie you then and there.

“It’s not that easy.” Suguru sighed, “If we let you go now, you’d definitely go to the cops, and you know at least his full name.” He said, glaring at Satoru once again.

“What if I promise not to go to the cops?” You asked.

“You and I both know that won’t work.” He looked almost sympathetic to your plight.

“What if I pinky swear not to go?” You asked. His sympathy vanished.

“In another life, you two are perfect for each other.” He scoffed to Gojo. Mere seconds after he said that, the door behind you opened again. Both men turned their full attention to the footsteps approaching, both looking terrified- though Gojo more than Suguru. You tried to look behind you, but alas, you were not an owl and could not turn your head 360 degrees around.

“What did you two idiots fuck up now?” A low, gravely voice asked behind you.

“What?!” Gojo tried to look offended, “Boss, I’m hurt! Why would you assume we fucked up?” he pouted. Suguru just dropped his head into his hands.

“Because it’s you Satoru, and when I came in here, you both looked at me like I was the cops and you had a corpse.” The voice scoffed, “And that never bodes well. Is that the girl?”

“So, you see, about that-” Suguru started, only to be cut off by a new man shoving his face in yours. The club of people that won the genetic lottery grew, and you hated to admit he was the sexiest member yet. Sharp features made more pronounced by a faceful of tattoos that absolutely shouldn't have been as attractive as they were. Hard eyes seemed to glow an unnatural red in the dim light of this garage(?) and his fluffy pink hair seemed both horrifically misplaced on his head, and perfectly matched all at the same time. Suddenly, you weren’t worried about your future. You were wondering what choices you had to make to sit on that perfectly sculpted face.

WAIT FOCUS Y/N, YOU’VE BEEN KIDNAPPED! You flinched away from him, tensing up because well…that’s what people do in these situations, right? You saw a tic form in his perfect jaw, and he stood up. You got a good look at what he was wearing. Fitted slacks with a dress shirt, a well tailored vest on top making him ooze with expense. The others were dressed nice too, but he somehow managed to outshine them all. Maybe its because his sleeves were rolled up, showing off his tattooed wrists and gorgeous forearms. God truly did have favorites.

“You.” He demanded more than asked, turning to Gojo and pointing at him.

“Yes Sukuna?” Gojo asked, and Suguru couldn’t hold back the groan that ripped from his throat.

“Stop using names you fucking idiot.” Suguru hissed. So his name was Sukuna.

“Gojo come here.” Sukuna said again, instantly shutting up both men. Gojos eyes grew even wider with fear.

“I, um…I’d rather not boss, I-...You’re gonna hurt me.” Gojo gulped.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” Sukuna assured him, and for a second he sounded so sincere and comforting, even you believed him.

“D-...Do you promise?” Gojo asked, trepidation still flooding his voice.

“I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.” Sukuna said again. Slowly, like a wild animal learning to trust, Satrou crept over to his boss. It was then you noticed Sukuna’s rings. You noticed them, because the moment Satoru was in bitch slapping range, he got bitch slapped with the ring hand, so hard that if Suguru hadn’t been there to catch him, he would have hit the floor.

“You said you weren’t gonna hurt me!” Gojo yelped. Suguru shook his head, unable to believe his friend fell for that.

“I lied!” The pink haired man snapped, “How’s it feel to be lied to Satoru?! Do you like it?! I know I sure fucking don’t.” He hissed as he slapped him again, “You said you had Toji’s wife! That’s not Toji’s fucking wife you imbecile!”

“Ha, take that asshat, that’s what you get!” You laughed, taking maybe a little bit too much joy in Satoru’s pain. And suddenly, all three men were staring at you. You shrunk a bit at the realization. “My bad, I shouldn’t have spoke,” You muttered, “I’ll let y'all get back to it.”

Sukuna took a long deep breath to try and reregulate himself before turning back to you. “Hi.” He said, giving a smile that you think was meant to be welcoming, but his naturally sharp canines just made it menacing. “Who are you?” He asked.

“I don’t know if it’s safe to tell you my name…” You muttered softly.

“You’re already tied up under my house babe, little late to be shy now.” He pointed out. Fair enough.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” You said. He nodded and gave a small wave.

"Hi Y/n. So what all do you kn-"

"Wait, what's your name?" You asked, cutting off a clearly powerful man. “Is Sukuna like, a title, or?” He stopped mid sentence and blinked at you, bringing his hands together in a death grip so he didn’t punch the disrespect out of your mouth.

“Sorry, you threw me off. I’m not used to being interrupted.” He said through gritted teeth.

“That’s a common problem for her!” Gojo accused from Suguru’s arms, pointing for emphasis. This quickly got him dropped. Sukuna glared at him.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop talking.” He threatened Gojo before turning back to you. “My name’s not important right now. What is important is finding out just how much you know. So start talking doll.” He said, going into his back pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes.

“So, before I answer, am I more likely or less likely to go home based on how much I know?” You asked, “Cause I’d like to go home in one piece.” The pink haired man laughed at your words as he lit his smoke. Well, laughed is a strong word. More like he aggressively blew air out of his nose, like when you see a funny meme.

“That’s cute Dollface,” He muttered, blowing the smoke out of his lungs, “Answer my question.”

“You answer mine first.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Come on dude, I only want you to answer one question-”

“You only want one question answered?” It did suck to be interrupted, “Fine, I’m Sukuna. Now what do you know about us?” You were confused at first, until you realized he was answering one question you asked. Just not the question you wanted answered. Well shit.

“I know his name is Satoru Gojo, his is Suguru, you’re Sukuna, and you guys are looking for some guy named Toji’s wife. Oh, and Gojo takes dick pics with a ring light.” Sukuna closed his eyes and scrunched his eyebrows at that last part, riding out the cringe wave.

“Dude, you don’t really do that, do you?” Suguru whispered to the man next to him.

“Good lighting makes the picture Suguru.” Gojo whispered back.

“We didn’t need to know that.” Sukuna said, opening his eyes again.

“You asked what I knew.” You said, shrugging as best as you could considering you were tied up.

“What are we going to do Boss?” Suguru asked, getting the team back on track. Sukuna took a long drag off his cigarette, trying to find an answer to that question. You were innocent, nowhere near the syndicates radar. You were a victim of them, it wasn’t fair to kill you for the crime of matching with a loser on tinder. It also went against what they stood for. At the same time though, they couldn’t just let you leave. You knew all of their names, for Satoru you knew his full name. Not only that, there was the risk of you letting it slip they were looking for Toji’s wife. Though, Toji probably knew that, all things considered. She did have a hit called out on Nanami after all, he’d be stupid not to assume they were looking for her. Fuck.

“Bring her upstairs.” Sukuna finally said, rubbing his temple with his free hand. He wondered why he kept Gojo on the payroll. “She’s our guest until further notice.” Suguru and Satoru shared a knowing glance before going and untying you.

“So you’re letting me go?!” You asked hopefully.

“Not quite,” Sukuna informed you, “Until we can find a more…permanent situation for you, you’re now the property of The Syndicate. Make yourself at home Doll.” He said as he put his cigarette back in his mouth.

“Hold on, what?!” You asked, struggling against Gojo and Suguru as they tried to drag you upstairs, “Wait, property?! Wait, hold on!” You yelped. Suguru rolled his eyes, deciding it was easier to just throw you over his shoulder at this point. “Hey! Put me down!”

“I don’t understand why you’re bitching, I thought you didn’t want to die?” He asked. And suddenly, this was all put into perspective for you. You either play nice, or you take a prolonged dirt nap. Shit. Not great options. You decided death wasn’t what you wanted, they did imply this was only temporary after all. You sighed and accepted your fate, going limp on Suguru’s shoulder.

The sudden bright lights of the house blinded you after so long in the dim basement. You were happy when Suguru finally put you down, less so when you heard a giant dog barking, and claws scraping on hardwood. You turned around in enough time to see an absolutely massive Rottweiler running at you full speed, teeth bared. You yelped, going to try and hide behind Suguru or hell even Gojo, only to find they had already backed way the hell up; giving the beast room to turn you into dog food. You closed your eyes and tensed your body as you braced for impact.

The impact never came. When you opened your eyes, all you found was a dopey smile sitting politely in front of you, panting while waiting for pets. “Aww,” You smiled, reaching down to give him some ear scratches. His already wagging tail kicked it into high gear as you did, melting your heart. “You’re just a big baby, aren’t you?” You cooed in your baby voice.

Sukuna came up from the stairs then, rolling his eyes at the scene. “Wow Brutus, good job buddy, you’re so good at being a guard dog. No ones gonna break in here, lest they get drooled on.” He scoffed.

“To be fair, Brutus’ slobber is a genuinely terrifying thing.” Suguru pointed out.

“It gets everywhere.” Gojo confirmed.

“I think you guys are just cowards.” You shrugged, petting the good boy on they head.

“They are.” Sukuna confirmed, also giving Brutus a solid pat for good measure. He turned to you then. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

“My room?” You questioned.

“That’s what I said,” His voice had an edge to it, like he was losing his patience with every second that passed. He turned to Gojo and Suguru. “Gojo, you know where she lives right?”

“Yea, I do.” He nodded. You did not like what that implied, considering you hadn’t given him your address. But, you were already kidnapped, so, maybe it was a little late to worry.

“Good. Take Geto and go grab her essentials. Clothes, toothbrush-”

“Oh, my switch!” You added. Sukuna glared at you from the corners of his eyes. “What?” You asked, “Someone’s gotta take care of my animal crossing island!” Sukuna closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Her switch, I fucking guess, and bring it back here.” He said, “Don’t fuck it up.” He wasn’t sure how they would fuck it up to be fair, but they had surprised him before.

“Got it Boss!” Satoru said, saluting Sukuna before grabbing Suguru and heading for the door.

“Oh, and Gojo?” Sukuna called right before they reached the door. Gojo froze.

“Yea Boss?”

“We’re not done here. See me when you get back.” His voice was dark. Nothing he said was threatening, but if that was true then why were the hairs on the back of your neck standing up? And why did Gojo physically cringe, as if future him was giving him a taste of pain yet to come?

“Understood Boss.” He said, leaving with Suguru. And with that, you were alone with a mob boss. Sukuna turned to you, blatantly eyeing you up. You suddenly felt shy under his gaze.

“Come on, your room is upstairs.” He said, moving past you to an opulent staircase on the opposite wall of the living room. You followed him, not really sure what else to do.

“You know, you’re surprisingly calm about all of this.” Sukuna said as the two of you climbed the stairs, “Not gonna lie, I kinda expected you to like…argue with me about all of this.”

“Do you want me to argue with you?” You asked.

“No, not really. I’m just curious about why you’re not.” He explained.

“Rent’s expensive,” You shrugged, “I was like, a week away from eviction.” You admitted, looking down to try and hide your shame. It wasn’t like you had done anything wrong either. You had done everything right, followed all the money tips you could, given up iced coffee. Turns out, rent is substantially more expensive than iced coffee and when your job doesn't pay a living wage, well- living is hard. “Honestly, I kinda need a place to crash.”

“Oh, I see. Well, lucky you then.” He chuckled softly as you reached the top of the staircase. You didn’t know if you’d call yourself lucky, but, you’d take what you could get. “Here, this one’s yours.” Sukuna said, opening a door to the right. You walked into an extravagant red room, a giant bed covered in black silk with a tall canopy sat as the center piece with a black wardrobe off to the side.

“Is this like, your sex room?” You asked, your mouth moving faster than your brain. He gave a short snappy ‘HA!’ at your joke, shaking his head softly.

“Yeah, you wish.” He accused, and yeah he was right. You kinda did wish. “This is just the guest room.”

“So…Do I live with you now?” You asked as you moved to sit on the bed. A reasonable question. Sukuna leaned against the doorway, moving his head back and fourth in the universal motion of ‘I have no fucking idea, give me a sec while I think of what to say.’

“Eh, “live” is a strong word.” He finally said with a shrug. “You’re just here until we can come up with a better solution.” He explained. You nodded, accepting that you weren’t going to get a straight answer- because he didn’t have one to give.

“Well that’s exciting.” You mumbled, trying to rub the tired out of your eyes. It had been a long day.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll figure out what to do with you in a few days.” He tried to comfort you, before finally leaving you alone.

🚬🚬🚬

A few days had quickly turned into a few weeks. You had acclimated to your new life well, learning when to ask questions and when not to. Brutus had become your best friend, and Sukuna your odd roommate who left at weird times in the night. You were more comfortable with your situation than you were willing to admit. Turns out, you weren’t above all those other Y N girlies that immediately got stockholm syndrome after a day of kidnapping.

Still, that didn’t mean you felt particularly safe. The moment you started to, something happened. The very next time you saw Gojo after he left to grab your things, his arm was in a cast. You would hear screaming- or worse begging- from the basement. An already hushed conversation would fall completely silent as you came down the stairs. There was always something to remind you that you were not here of your own free will.

“Ummm…Shota?” You asked from your spot on the couch, watching him put on his jacket.

“Nope.”

“Hmmm…Akira?” Your relationship with Sukuna was an odd one. The two of you had grown comfortable with each others presence, enough that you would find yourself casually hanging out with him, or in this case, pestering him as you tried to guess his first name.

“Wrong again.” He said, checking the jacket to make sure his cigarettes were in one of the pockets. They weren’t.

“Yuji?”

“Gross no- Do I look like a Yuji to you?” That one seemed to genuinely offend him a bit. You had to be getting close.

“Yagi?”

“Y/n, why does it matter to you so much that you know my first name?” He asked, grabbing his smokes from the end table next to the couch. He made eye contact with you when he did it, and you felt your stomach flutter. That was another thing that was quickly developing. It seemed like every day it took less and less from him to make you flustered.

“Cause you know mine!” You said, pressing your thighs together to push back your less than holy thoughts. “It only seems fair that I should know yours too.”

“I’m not interested in what’s fair Doll, you should know that.” He said, grabbing his keys off the hook by the door. You hated when he called you Doll, mostly because of how much you loved it when he called you Doll. It always stirred something in you that you tried to suppress, something you knew would make an already not ideal situation worse. Admitting you had feelings for Sukuna felt akin to a death sentence right now, especially considering the very real likelihood that they were one sided.

“If you weren’t interested in what’s fair, you would have killed me by now!” You pointed out.

“Don’t forget to feed Brutus, I’ll be home late.” He completely ignored your very valid point. You huffed as you watched him walk out of the door. Bastard. Asshole. Tyrant, even! In the space between where your true feelings were-and what you were willing to admit to feeling- resentment grew. He had ripped you from the life you had built before, and cultivated this caricature of intimacy that he fully expected you to participate in; all while refusing to give you information as basic as his first name. It wasn’t just unfair, at times it felt cruel.

A soft whine from the nearby kitchen brought you back to reality. You smiled softly at the gentle giant waiting for dinner. “You hungry buddy?” You asked, laughing at his happy woof as you got up to fill his bowl.

You went about your nightly routine as you normally did, minus dinner with Sukuna, ending the night curled up on the couch in your pajamas with Brutus, reading one of the many books that littered the mansion. You couldn’t focus on the words though, your mind finding the ticking of the clock much more interesting. Something was off. You looked up to see that it was already 5 AM. Sukuna was prone to coming home late, but never this late. Something was wrong.

You weren’t sure what to do here. You were captive here, it’s not like you had access to a phone. Even if you did, who would you call? You knew Nanami was his most reliable comrade, but if Sukuna was in trouble there was a 70% chance Nanami was too. Suguru? Maybe, but- you shook your head as you realized none of this mattered when you had zero way of contacting any of these men. You could try and go look for him yourself, but you knew the door was locked. It needed a code to be opened, a code you didn’t have. Brutus whined from beside you, feeding off your nervous energy. Your fingers felt numb as you mindlessly chewed your nails, failing to think of anything other than where Sukuna was at that moment.

“Where are you Suka-” It was like you summoned him, before you could even finish your sentence the door exploded open and he came tumbling inside. You thought having him come home would be a relief, but the blood covering his side washed away any possible relief that could have come from his return.

“Motherfucker-” Was all he could get out before collapsing against the wall next to the door.

“Sukuna!” You yelled, rushing to his side, “Sukuna, holy shit, what happened?!” You demanded, wrapping his arm around your shoulders while you tried to lead him to the couch. You thought it would have been harder, moving a wall of muscle that much bigger than you any amount. But it turns out, adrenaline really is one hell of a drug!

“I got shot, what’s it look like happened?!” He snapped, hissing through his teeth as you placed him on the couch. Suddenly, you understood why everything in this house was red. He almost disappeared into the scarlet couch, the red consuming him, threatening to take him away. “Brutus! First Aid!” He yelled, before groaning in pain. Somewhere along the way, he lost his jacket, making it a lot easier for you to rip off his bloodied dress shirt.

Oh man, that was bad. You weren’t even queasy around blood, but there was a lot here. Before you could get too much in your head and lose your dinner, you felt a fuzzy head nudge into your leg. You looked down to see Brutus looking up at you, first aid kit hanging from his mouth. He was officially the smartest dumb dog you had ever met.

“Oh, Good boy Brutus!” You praised, scratching the sides of his face and his floppy ears.

“Y/n, losing blood kinda fast over here!” Sukuna reminded, quickly snapping you back into the severity of the moment.

“Right, sorry!” You yelped, opening the kit. Of course Sukuna wouldn’t have a normal first aid kit. This was one of the most extensive kits you’d seen. You pulled the latex gloves over your hands before straddling his lap, trying to get a better look at him. Three bullet wounds, one logged into his shoulder, one to his side under his rib cage, and one that just grazed his side. You could still see the bullet in the first two.

“Oh jesus..” You muttered, grabbing the long glorified tweezers from the kit, “So, uh, this is gonna hurt.” You said, mouth moving without your mind.

“Oh, that so?!” He snapped, “I thought it was gonna feel like fucking butterfly kisses!” Oh man, he was starting to look pale.

“Okay, well now I’m not sorry for this.” You muttered, digging the tweezers into his shoulder to get the bullet. He hissed sharply through his teeth, hands finding your hips and grabbing you hard enough to bruise. This was not the scenario you thought of when you imagined Sukuna bruising your hips, but life is often funny that way.

“Okay, that’s one out.” You said as you extracted the metal. He let out a shallow breath, trying hard to regulate his breathing.

“Fuck Y/n..” He whined, and you felt your chest burn. You wondered if that’s what he would sound like on to-NOPE not the time to think like that!

“I’m going to get the second one now, okay?” You asked. He nodded, his body tensing against his will in anticipation. This one was deeper. You watched his abs flex as he moaned in pain, biting his lip to concentrate on anything other than the searing pain in his abdomen. This would be a lot easier if he could stop being hot for like, five seconds. “I’m sorry.” You muttered softly, wishing there was anything you could do to help with the pain.

“Don’t- Don’t.” You could tell he wanted to say more, but he just couldn’t. You finally pulled the final bullet out. You pulled the bottle of iodine out of the kit, assuming it was for disinfecting- something he was going to desperately need. You wanted to suggest a hospital, but you knew better. A hospital meant cops, and he couldn’t have that. Especially not right now. So you poured a generous amount of the iodine on his wounds, only for him to scream.

“AAH, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!” He yelped as a new wave of pain scorched it’s way through his body.

“I THOUGHT IT WAS A DISINFECTANT!” You yelled in panic, using a piece of gauze to try and wipe it up.

“YEAH, FOR BURNS.”

“THEN WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO USE?!”

“WATER!!” Oh yeah, that checked. The bottle of distilled water in the kit made a lot more sense now. You opened it, using that to clean his wounds instead, and using it to try and wash away some of the dried blood in the process.

“Shit, I’m sorry! I’m not a nurse, okay!?” You tried to defend yourself in a panic. Then it dawned on you the next step in the process. “I wasn’t very good at home ec either...” You confessed.

“What does that have to do with- Oh god.” He threw his head back on the couch as he realized stitches were next. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before pulling his head back up, his eyes meeting yours almost instantly. It was like he was searching your very soul for something, though you had no idea what he was trying to find. You wanted to shrink away, but you found yourself trapped by his gaze.

“I trust you Y/n. Don’t fuck me up.” He finally said. You wondered how he could be so confident in anything while bleeding out on a couch, but you guessed that was a question for some other time. You nodded, grabbing the surgical needle and thread. It couldn’t be that hard, right? In one side and out the other. You had this.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as you made the first sitch, digging his nails into your hips and subconsciously pulling you closer. He flinched at the second stitch, bucking his hips into yours in the process.

“Hold still!” You chastised him. You really wished all of this was happening under different circumstances. You realized this was probably the closest you had ever been to him. Focus Y/n, focus! You finished his shoulder, before moving on to the one in his side, and finishing with the gash. You were shocked how good your stitches were when you weren’t over thinking it. Not perfect by any means, but far better than you thought.

“Okay, the worst is over.” You said, pushing his damp hair out of his face gently. He looked at you through his eyelashes, an expression you had no hope of reading on his face. You cleared your throat before grabbing the gauze to bandage him up. He was quiet while you worked. You had almost finished with the bandages when he spoke again.

“Ryomen.” He finally said.

“What?” You asked, confusion leaking into your voice as you finished wrapping up the last wound. You looked at him.

“My name’s Ryomen.” You weren’t sure what you expected him to say after all of this, but it definitely wasn’t that. You stared at him, trying to figure out how to process any of what the fuck just happened. Was this your life now? Was this your forever? He brought a shaky hand to the side of your face, brushing away a tear you didn’t even know was there.

“Why are you cryin’ Doll?” He asked softly. His eyes didn’t have the edge you were so used to in them. Be it from the blood loss or him being grateful for your subpar nursing, all of his edges had been rounded down to soft bumps.

“I thought I was going to lose you..” You whimpered softly.

“Oh, Y/n,” He cooed softly, “I’m not going anywhere.” He promised, pressing his forehead to yours. “Don’t cry over me.” He lazily rubbed your cheek with his thumb, trying to comfort you despite the fact he was the one that had just got shot, multiple times. You were sure the blood loss was getting to his head, this was far too intimate. Far too sweet. The stress of the situation hit you all at once, the adrenaline leaving your body as distress took it’s place.

You took a jagged breath in, realizing you were crying as you did so. He quietly pulled you into a hug, pressing you into his chest. The steady beat of his heart admittedly brought you some comfort, reminding you that he was alive and well-ish. You weren’t sure when you fell asleep. When you woke up in your room the next morning, you were convinced it was all a bad dream. Surely he wouldn’t have been able to lug your sleeping body to your room after all of that, right?

The faint blood stains on the couch told a different story.

🚬🚬🚬

If you thought your relationship with Ryomen was weird before, it was really weird now. Before, you were positive you had a one sided crush. Something brought on by proximity and not much else, and a feeling he most definitely did not share. Now though? Now you were sure there was something else there, and that he felt it too. It showed itself in small ways. In the way he brushed against you when you were cooking together, in the way Suguru’s job had gotten significantly harder when Ryomen had noticed how close the two of you had gotten, and in the way he had gotten more protective of you than he had ever been before.

“Oh Suge Knight totally had 2pac killed.” Suguru said with a shrug.

“No way, that doesn’t make sense!” You argued, “Why would he call a hit on his best selling artist?”

“To take control of his catalog, duh,” He said this as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “More money to be made if you don’t have an artist to pay.”

“Yeah, except now there’s no artist to make more music and therefore more money!” you pointed out, “Besides, why would he have a car he’s in get shot up?”

“So people ask that exact question!” Suguru argued, waving his hands for emphasis.

“Do you two have nothing better to talk about than decades old conspiracy theories?” Ryomen asked as he entered the kitchen, walking up to the bar where you sat with Suguru. He always seemed annoyed when the two of you hung out together. The toxic part of your brain liked it. Satoru wasn’t far behind him, his wrist still in a brace from a months old injury. You felt a little bad when you saw it these days. It must have been a nasty shatter.

“I’d argue there’s no better topic of conversation than decades old murder conspiracies.” Satoru said, taking a seat next to Suguru.

“I’d argue you’re the last person I’d consider an authority on topics of conversation.” Nanami said, suddenly alerting you to his presence. That man was like a ghost, you only saw him when he wanted you to. He moved over to the fridge, pulling out a beer and using the counter to open it. A move that would get Satoru or Suguru a one way ticket to the afterlife, completely ignored by Ryomen because Nanami was useful.

“Y/n, I need you to go to your room.” Ryomen said, checking his watch. “Sooner rather than later.”

“What, why?” You asked, not a fan of being kicked out of the kitchen you now considered to be yours.

“Because I told you to. Don’t come out until I come get you.” His tone left no room for argument or conversation. You bit your tongue, knowing better than to undermine him in front of his men, especially his lieutenants.

“Whatever.” You groaned as you left, going and locking yourself in your room. As much as it annoyed you, this was fairly common at this point. Whenever the boys had “Official Business” you’d be banished to your bedroom until they deemed it safe for you to be let free. A very clear reminder that you were an outsider here. You weren’t in your room long before there was a knock on your door.

“Already?!” You asked.

“No.” Nanami said, “I’m here to deliver Brutus.” Confused, you went and opened the door. Sure enough, Brutus came barreling into the room as the door opened, going and jumping onto your bed. “Boss wants him to be with you.” Nanami said, as if that was going to answer your puzzled look.

“Why? What’s going on?” You asked in a hushed tone. Nanami's eyes darted over to the staircase, making sure no one was coming up them.

“A representative of Naoya Zenin is going to be here tonight.” Zenin. You heard that name enough before to know he was one of Ryomen’s rivals, someone previously teamed up with Toji.

“What? Why is he sending someone here?”

“Fushiguru has been shorting him and his team when it comes to their cut of narcotics sales. Considering they’re the ones making all the drugs Toji sells, he’s not happy about it. So he’s looking to start a partnership with us instead.” You were thankful for Nanami. Everyone else here treated you like a delicate flower: like telling you what was going on would make you wilt. Nanami had always kept it straight with you, telling you the facts as they were. To him, you were just as involved as they all were, even if that was only due to your proximity to it all.

“And he’s not showing up himself?” You asked, remembering that Nanami had said a representative of his was coming. He shrugged.

“What can I say? The man’s a coward.” There was a knock on the door after he said that, signaling to him that he needed to get back downstairs. “Stay safe Y/n.” He said, turning to join the others.

“You too.” You responded, but you were pretty sure he didn’t hear it. You sighed as you closed your door, joining the overgrown puppy on your bed. You decided to hop on your switch, needing some way to kill the time. You weren’t sure how long you spent trying to get Moose off your island before you registered that Brutus was whining by your door.

“What’s wrong big guy?” You asked, putting your switch down. He whined some more, shifting uncomfortably in front of the door. “Oh no, you have to potty, don’t you?” You could have sworn that dog nodded at you. Really?! They didn’t let him out first?! You wondered what to do. You knew disobeying Ryomen wasn’t acceptable, but you couldn’t just let your baby suffer! Another whimper from Brutus made the decision for you. Ryomen would understand.

You opened your door and walked Brutus down the stairs, hoping you could avoid wherever the meeting was happening. You should have known that was delusional, because the moment you walked into the kitchen, you found them all holding their meeting around the bar. Ryomen pinched the bridge of his nose the moment he saw you. Ah fuck.

“Well hello there Gorgeous, who are you?” A man you had never seen before asked. He made your stomach turn. He had his long blue hair parted into three pony tails, and long surgical scars marred his face. That wasn’t what made him so revolting though. It was his smile. It didn’t feel right. Like a monster recreating it’s prey’s mannerisms, a wolf in poorly fitted sheep’s clothing. You wished you stayed in your room.

“It doesn’t matter who she is, you’re not here to talk to her.” Ryomen said, allowing no room for conversation. You followed his lead, going and opening the back door for Brutus without acknowledging the mimic in your home.

“Oh, don’t be rude Sukuna. Is she your wife?” It asked.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re not here to talk about my personal life.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” He turned to you, and you wished Brutus would hurry up. “I’m Mahito sweetie. And you are?”

“I think the Boss made it clear, we should get back on topic.” Nanami said, adjusting to put his hand in his suit jacket. The Mahito creature got the hint, raising his hands in his defense.

“Okay, okay, okay. Pardon me for trying to be polite at a business meeting, I won’t do it again.”

“Good.” Ryomen said, lighting a smoke and watching closely as Brutus ran in and took his place by your side. He saw the way Brutus held back a growl. That wasn’t a good sign. “You said Zenin wanted fifty percent? That’s not going to work for us.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Selling is signif-” That was all you heard as you rushed back up stairs. Once in your room, you tried to regulate your heartbeat, to clam your jittering bones. You felt like you had just encountered some old primal evil. Something so off your ancestors were warning you to be weary of it from beyond the grave. You sat next to Brutus on your bed, hiding your face in his fur to try and calm down.

It worked for a while, until you heard him growl. You looked up to see the monster in your room. You yelped softly, instinctively backing away. You wished you hadn’t forgotten to close your door.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said, showing that “smile” again. “I just thought it was a shame we didn’t get to properly meet back there.” Your blood felt slimy in your veins as you realized you were going to have to play nice with this guy. His business was important to Ryomen, or else he wouldn’t be in the house.

“Oh, yea I guess.” You muttered softly, petting Brutus to try and calm him.

“What’s your name sweetheart?” He asked, stepping even further into your room and closing the door behind him. Your joints suddenly felt weak with static, every fiber of your animal brain telling you you were dealing with a predator.

“Y/n.” You responded, refusing to make eye contact with his mis-matched eyes.

“That’s a pretty name Y/n. You Ryomen’s girl, or his pet?” You didn’t like anything coming out of his mouth.

“I’m um, his roommate.” You guess, and instantly realized you guessed wrong. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs with the others?”

“Oh, they’ll be fine without me for a few minutes.” He said, and you realized he was getting closer. You stood up, only to realize he was in between you and the door.

“Hey, uh, I really think you should go back down, they’re probably looking for-”

“I don’t care.” He scoffed, closing the distance and grabbing you. He tried to force you on the bed, but I guess that dumb ass missed the giant fuck you dog that was in that room for the sole purpose of protecting you. He didn’t get past putting his hands on your shoulders before Brutus’s teeth were in his leg, ripping muscle from bone. The scream that left Mahito was visceral, the kind that haunts people at night.

“RYOMEN!!” You yelled, pressing yourself against the wall while Brutus did his thing, jerking his head, pulling the man away from you as another horrific scream left him.

“I fucking knew it!” Ryomen snapped, ripping your attention away from the bloody scene in front of you and to the four men spilling into your room, Ryomen leading the pack.

“CALL OFF YOUR DOG!” The rag doll begged.

“Brutus, down!” Ryomen ordered. Without hesitation the Rott had let go, and had placed himself between you and your attacker in case he needed to act again.

“Oh thank-” Mahito didn’t get to finish that sentence.

“He’s mine.” Ryomen growled, grabbing him by his scalp. “You think you can come into my house and attack my girl and get away with it?!” He snapped, taking the lit cigarette from his mouth and putting it out in Mahitos’ right eye. You’re not sure what was going to stick with you more, the smell- or the sound that came out of the monster. Ryomen threw the screaming, bloodied man, to the floor behind him. “Take him to the basement, I’ll be there soon.” He said. Without hesitation all three men acted, grabbing the begging Mahito and dragging him down the stairs.

Ryomen walked over to you, gently taking your head in his hands. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, Brutus protected me.” You hated the quiver in your voice as you said that. Ryomen looked down at the dopey dog, smiling with blood on his muzzle. He gave a small affectionate smile as he pet the dog.

“Good boy.” He praised before turning back to you. “I’m going to go take care of the trash in the basement, then I’ll be back, okay?”

“I’m so sor-”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. He did. I’ll be back.” He assured you, gently patting your cheek before leaving the room you weren’t sure you felt safe in anymore. You weren’t sure how long he was gone for. At least long enough for you to clean up Brutus, and to try and clean up all the gore. At least your carpet was dark gray. You wondered how many other stains it hid, and of what variety.

You weren’t expecting how relieved you were when you finally heard a knock, opening the door to reveal a freshly showered Ryomen. You wondered what he looked like before washing the blood away, but the only image your mind conjured was him bleeding out on the couch. So you stopped wondering.

“Pack a bag, you’re leaving.” He explained. His tone was unreadable, and all it did was piss you off.

“What? What do you mean I’m leaving?!” You demanded.

“I mean wh-”

“No Ryomen, I want an actual fucking explanation.” You saw his jaw clench, as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You gotta get better about that interrupting bullshit.” He growled. “Zenin is definitely going to send someone to look for his missing boy. And when he does, he’s not going to find you here. Gojo already reserved you a hotel suite for a week, it’s temporary.” He explained as he walked away. “I’ll be waiting for you in the living room.”

You groaned as you threw together a bag. You understood his reasoning, but you were getting real sick of feeling like nothing in your life was under your control. Like you were at the mercy of a crazed mob boss. Probably because you were. You were starting to wonder if all of this was really worth not having to pay rent.

Ultimately you decided it was. Really, it was no different from existing under capitalism, and at least in this situation you could sometimes reason with your captor. You came downstairs with your bag, took at least ten minuets to say goodbye to Brutus- promising him you’d be back and that he was the best boy- and finally loaded yourself into Ryomen’s too-expensive-for-you-to-be-in car. The drive was silent, tense almost. He chain smoked out of the window, not even bothering to look at you.

“Um, are you mad at me?” You finally had to ask.

“No.” Well that didn’t sound like he wasn’t mad at you.

“You sound mad.” You pointed out.

“Good observation.” He scoffed, throwing his dead cigarette butt out the window, and immediately going to light another.

“That’s probably not good for your lungs ya know.” His glare could have frozen the sun. “I’m just sayin’!”

“I promise you, I’d be lucky if lung cancer is what kills me.” He “assured” you.

“You promise you’re not mad at me?”

“Y/n.” He growled, “I said I’m not mad at you, didn’t I? Why can’t you just believe me?”

“Cause you sound like, really really ma-”

“That’s because I’m mad at myself, not you!” He snapped, before catching himself with a growl, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second. He took a long drag off his smoke and ashed it out the window, holding the smoke in his lungs until the burn threatened to consume him. “Just. Drop it.” He finally said as the two of you pulled into a hotel parking lot. It was honestly nicer than you were expecting! “We’re here.” He informed you, grabbing your bag as the two of you left the car.

It was clear Sukuna was known here, considering he didn’t technically check in. He was just given a key as he passed the front desk, and told a room number. You hoped it wasn’t that easy for everyone. He ushered you to the elevator before giving you the spare key he was given. “Room 237.” He said.

“Wait, like The Shining?!” you gasped, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I-I guess?” He very clearly wasn’t expecting that reaction to informing you of your room number. “Sorry, I’m thrown, are you excited or?-”

“I just think it’s neat.” You beamed.

“...Okay.” Sukuna sighed, deciding he had more important things to worry about at the moment than if you liked your room number or not. Once inside the room, he immediately started checking for bugs, both the organic and inorganic kind. An old habit that he saw no need to kill. While he did that, you looked around the suite, familiarizing yourself with the layout.

“Hey, Ryomen? I only see one bed?” You questioned, not finding another place for him to sleep.

“Yeah? Is that a problem?” He asked, joining you in the bedroom.

“Well where are you going to sleep?” You inquired. He was confused again.

“In my bed? At my house?” Oh hell no he wasn’t!

“What?! No way, you can’t leave me!” You protested, getting real sick of his shit.

“I assure you, I can do whatever I want,” He scoffed, “Someone needs to watch the house.”

“Fuck that, have Nanami do it! What if they find me here?!” You didn’t have Brutus, and you weren’t confident in your ability to hold your own in a fight with experienced criminals.

“No one is going to come for you here Y/n-” He tried to reason, but you were having none of it.

“Are you sure?!” You demanded, “Can you promise me that?! Can you look me in the eye and swear to me that we weren’t followed? That no one’s going to show up here looking for you and hurt me instead? That no one wants revenge for that ragdolls life?! Can you be sure?!” He was quiet. Truth be told, he couldn’t. And he had already fucked up and let you get hurt once, he wasn’t going to do it again. He let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh.

“Fine, fine. I’ll call Nanami and have him-”

“I don’t want Nanami here, I want you.” You insisted. Your words hung heavy in the air, both of you trying to hear what was left unsaid in the silence. The tension was growing, begging for someone to say something, anything. Finally, Ryomen sighed again,

“Okay, I’ll stay. Let me go call Nanami so he knows to watch the house.” He said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and stepping out to call his lieutenant. He was gone for longer than you expected. You worried about what was being said, though you didn't know why you were so worried. You just felt anxious. Finally, he came back.

“Alright, everything is settled.” He let you know, “I’m going to sleep on the couch, just…get some sleep okay?” He said, gently cupping your cheek, “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” He assured you. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and nodded.

“Okay, thank you.” You sighed, looking up at him. He was closer than you realized. He hadn’t let go of your cheek yet either. Your eyes connected, and for a split second, the whole world seemed to stop. He was close enough you could smell the coffee and cigarette scent that seemed to permanently cling to him. If you focused hard enough, you could feel the heat coming off of him. “Kiss me.” You mentally begged him, “Kiss me, just kiss me!”

“Sleep well Y/n.” He said, patting your face as he left the room. You almost screamed at him to get back here and finish what he started, but realized it probably wouldn’t do much. If he wanted to, he would have. He said it himself, he does whatever he wants. You settled for just screaming into the pillow as you flopped into the overly stuffed mattress instead. This shit sucked.

Everything felt hot, too hot. You felt like you were caught in an inferno, feeling his hips buck into yours. You felt his warm mouth trail kisses down your neck. You twisted your hands, feeling your wrists flex under his large hand. “You’re so good for me pretty girl.” He praised in your ear.

“Ryomen-” You gasped, saying his name like a prayer.

“Say it again Y/n.”

“Ryomen..”

“Again..”

“Ro-”

“Y/n!” You jumped out of your sleep, yelping softly as Sukuna’s voice jolted you out of the dream realm. You looked around, trying to reorient yourself. You still felt flustered from your dream, and now flustered from embarrassment.

“Ryomen?” You asked, looking at the man sitting on the side of your bed, him looking at you with concerned eyes in return. “What are you doing in here?”

“You called for me.” He informed you, and you wanted to melt away from the embarrassment. “I thought you we’re having a nightmare, so I woke you up,” He explained, “Are you okay?”

“A nightmare…yeah…” You took the excuse and ran, “Yeah, yeah I’m okay. I don’t even remember what happened in it honestly…” You lied. He sighed and rubbed his face, getting up to leave. “Wait!” You called, grabbing his hand before he could get too far. There goes your stupid body, moving faster than your brain again. “I-...I don’t want to be alone.” You explained. It was technically the truth.

He looked down at you, quiet for a second, then grumbled. “Whatever. Scoot over.” He muttered. You smiled, happy to make room for him. He slipped himself under the covers, getting comfortable surprisingly quickly for someone in a dress shirt and slacks. For a guy that was surrounded with luxury and creature comforts, he really didn’t seem to need any of them. It didn’t seem like he was very accustomed to them either. He laid on his back, and you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable his chest looked.

So you moved next to him, resting your head on his chest. He looked down at you, but didn’t push you away. Quite the opposite actually, he wrapped one of his arms around you, holding you close to his side. It woke up the butterflies in your stomach, sending them into overdrive.

“Thank you.” You whispered to him.

“For what?” He asked.

“Staying with me. Taking care of me.”

“...Di-..did you just thank me for kidnapping you?” He questioned, looking down at you as best he could and raising an eyebrow. You laughed a little at his reaction.

“I guess I did, yeah.” You giggled, trying to push yourself closer to him.

“You’re welcome?” You never failed to confuse and confound him. Maybe that’s why he liked you so much. You kept him on his toes. “You know most people aren’t okay with being kidnapped, right? It’s considered a bad thing.”

“I’m not most people.” You shrugged. “Like, yeah I see how on paper it’s bad but..I don’t know. It kinda came at the perfect time for me. I got to walk out of my shitty job, I didn’t have to deal with getting evicted, let’s not even get started on how honestly lonely I was..I don’t know. I guess it’s bad for most people, but it was a miracle for me. Is there a word for bad miracle?”

“Your stalkhom syndrome is showing.”

“I don’t think it’s that,” You chuckled, shifting to be able to look up at him, “Have you ever considered I just like being around you?”

“Why would you?” He muttered.

“Why wouldn't I?” You replied. There it was again. That warm feeling that seemed to envelop you wherever you were in Ryomen’s arms, coupled with the feeling that comes right before the lighting strikes. You used the dim moonlight fluttering in from your window to connect your eyes with his. You swore up and down his eyes glowed in low light, the unnatural red that should be so off putting only drawing you deeper into him.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered softly, and you felt your chest tighten. He had never said anything like that to you before. It made you feel almost giddy, your heart doing the screaming and squealing your throat wouldn’t currently allow. Before you could respond, his lips were finally on yours and it felt like fireworks were going off in every fiber of your being. You felt your blood rushing in your veins as you moved to tangle your fingers in his hair, months of tension finally snapping in a million electric sparks.

He bit your lip, using your soft gasp to deepen the kiss. He pulled you closer to him, if that was even possible, growling softly as you tugged at his hair. It was like the two of you truly couldn’t get enough of each other, trying to make up for months worth of lost time and build up with one impossibly impassioned kiss. He rolled the two of you over so you were under him, and moved to kiss your neck. You moaned softly as he did, feeling the bruises he was biting already starting to form. You loved the idea of it, of obvious evidence you really were his girl.

You felt your breathing get heavy as he ran his hands up your waist and under your shirt, feeling the soft skin waiting for him there. He pulled away long enough to pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in just your sleep shorts.

“Fuck.” He whispered when he finally saw you without your top on. He took the time to truly marvel you, the way you imagined a painter would look at his magnum opus. It filled you with a confidence unlike anything else, for someone so beautiful to look at you the way Adonis had looked at Aphrodite.

“You look so much better than I imagined.” he praised, finally finding his voice again.

“So you’ve imagined me topless?” You teased.

“I’ve imagined more than just you topless.” He smirked, hands roaming lower on your body. You felt your breath hitch in your chest as he hooked his thumbs under your shorts. You weren’t positive this wasn’t another dream, but either way, you planned to enjoy this. Though, he was wearing far too much clothes for that. Before he could take your bottoms off, you were sitting up, connecting your lips to his again as your fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. You always thought he looked stunning in them, but right now you despised the small buttons. He chuckled a bit, pulling away from you.

“Eager, huh?” he teased, “Here, I got it.” You felt almost embarrassed as he expertly got all the buttons undone and the shirt off in the time it took you to unhook three of them. But- in your defense- he took those shirts off everyday and this was your first time taking anything off him. You bit your lip as you took in his topless form. It looked so much better not covered in blood, you could better see the tattooed skin that laid there.

And the scars. There were a few etched into his skin, but you were most concerned with three. Your fingers went to touch one of the circular scars, feeling the puckered healed skin on his shoulder. You felt a pang of regret. If you had done better that night, would he have scarred? You didn’t have time to think before you felt his hand on yours, softly pressing your fingers into the healed wound.

“Like it?” He chuckled, “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Why?” You asked, trying not to think about him covered in blood again.

“It makes me think of you.” He said, pulling you into another heated kiss. You felt your body react to him, pressing yourself closer to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You felt dizzy with want, your entire being buzzing with anticipation as he pressed you back into the mattress, kissing down your jaw, your neck, your torso, until he was where you wanted him the most. You bit your lip in anticipation, feeling him hook his thumbs into your bottoms, waiting for him.

“What do you want Doll?” He asked from in between your legs.

“You.” You whimpered softly.

“I’m right here,” He reminded you, “What do you want from me?” You whined as you bucked your hips at him. He grabbed them and pressed you into the mattress, making you groan louder.

“I don’t know!” You confessed.

“Babygirl, we haven’t even done anything, you can’t be fucked stupid just yet.” he tsked.

“I just want you to touch me...” You begged.

“I am touching you.”

“Ryo!” You whined, wriggling under him.

“Ryo?” He snorted, “That’s cute.” In all the times you had imagined yourself fucking Ryomen Sukuna, you had never imagined he’d be this fucking infuriating. You gave a stranged whine to let him know just how upset you were. “Sorry Doll, I don’t speak whine. You’re gonna have to use your big girl words.”

“Ryomen, please!” You begged, “I- I want..fuck, I want your mouth.” You finally decided, “I want to know what your mouth feels like.” Ryomen’s grin was dark as he finally pulled down your shorts and underwear in one fluid motion.

“Good girl.” he praised, and before you could properly react, he was running his tongue from your entrance to your clit, wrapping his lips around your bundle of nerves and giving it a sharp suck. Excitement exploded in your chest as your hands rushed to his hair, trying to find anything to ground yourself. He growled as you pulled him closer to you.

Every pass of his tongue sent another wave of euphoria coursing through your core, leaving you soft under him. You brain officially checked out for the night, rolling your hips against his face to chase your high. You moaned his name shamelessly, losing your ability to regulate your volume in the pleasure he was giving you. This volume regulation problem worsened as he pushed two fingers into your weeping cunt, curling up and successfully gracing the sweet spot inside you. Some part of your brain was sure the next room over knew Ryomen’s name now.

And it was driving him crazy. Ryomen couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The way your eyes screwed shut, the way the sweat cascaded down your body, the way his name sounded so fucking pretty falling off your lips. He spent a lot of time fucking his hand to the thought of fucking you with his mouth, among other things, and his imagination couldn’t come close to creating the magic of the real thing. He had to use his free hand to palm himself through his slacks, desperate for any sort of relief. The only thing he wanted more than to fuck you in that moment was to taste you as you came on his face. He needed it more than he needed to breathe.

“R-ryo, I- close..” You whined, your mind struggling to conjugate a proper sentence. That’s what he liked to hear. Your head was full of dopamine and ecstasy, your entire body buzzed with anticipation and need. You felt like you were barreling to the edge of the earth with no hope of stopping. You heard him moan as you pulled his hair again, pulling him closer as you rode his face straight to your climax, feeling the ecstasy explode in your veins. You felt like you were floating in a sea of pleasure, except the sea was in the middle of a tropical storm and every cutting wave that hit you left you weaker than the last. Your vision went white hot, and you were struggling to keep your breath.

“Fuck, fuck, Ryo! Ryomen! So good Ryo..” You chanted his name like a witch trying to evoke a long dead deity. And he couldn’t get enough of it, eating you out throughout your high as he licked up everything you had to give him and more. He didn’t let up until your legs were trembling around his head. He kissed bruises in your shaking thighs as he pulled away, wiping his mouth and looking at you with dark eyes. Something primal held behind pupils blown wide with lust. He wiped his mouth with a wicked grin.

“You taste so good Doll,” He praised, slipping his fingers out of your cunt and into your mouth. You started sucking without thinking, grabbing his hand to keep him there as you licked his fingers clean. “Glad you agree.” He chuckled darkly, feeling his dick twitch under his clothes. His entire body felt like it was on fire, and the only thing his mind could focus on was imagining how pretty you’d look trying to take his dick.

“How ya feeling Dollface?” He asked, leaning back as he undid the button on his pants.

“So good..” You muttered, your mind slowly finding it’s way back to your body in the sea of endorphins it was swimming in.

“Yeah?” He chuckled, pulling you under him as he lined himself up with your weeping cunt, “Wanna feel even better?” He asked. Well he was confident, wasn’t he? You nodded, looking up to see what he was working with. You probably should have been more intimidated than you were, but at that moment all you wanted was to make him feel as good as he had made you feel.

“Yea, I want do.” You confirmed, and he smiled smugly.

“Good girl.” He praised as he slowly sunk into you. You felt like you were being ripped apart in the most beautiful way. Your cunt weeping as it made accommodations for him. Your hands flew to his back, digging into him with enough time to feel him shudder on top of you from just how good you felt. You’d count that as a win.

“Fuck, it’s like you were made for me pretty girl,” He moaned, dragging himself out just to push back in, gracing your g-spot as he did. You moaned under him as he did, feeling yourself melt into a puddle of need and pleasure. “So fucking good.” He purred.

He tried to take it easy, to keep in mind that you had just came hard and were probably sensitive. He couldn’t help himself though. The way you pulled him in deeper and deeper with every thrust threw any semblance of sense out of his mind. All he could think about was how good you felt under him, and how fucking pretty every sound that came out of you was. He wanted to hear them all.

You were happy to make them all for him too, moaning pathetically under him with every push of his cock, every brush against your g-spot. You could feel your blood catch fire in your veins as he fucked you, felt yourself getting lost in the pleasure he was giving you. You felt electrified, your nervous system somehow fried and on high alert all at the same time. All you could think of was Ryomen, Ryomen, Ryomen as you felt a string of tensions knotting itself over and over in your stomach.

He pulled you impossibly closer to him, folding you into a mating press as he chased both of your highs. You instantly knew you weren’t going to last long in this new position, and all but screamed his name as you pulled at his hair.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Ryomen!” You yelled as the string inside of you finally snapped, all of the euphoria it was holding back hitting you like a god damn train. You felt your body shake, tendrils of pleasure lashing out from your core to your fingers and toes. It was like a whole body reset, your brain turning into a puddle of electrified endorphins.

He thought he was going to last longer than he ultimately did. But the way your cunt clenched around him coupled with the way your face screwed shut and how needy you sounded as you said his name- he was coming undone inside within a few more strokes, fucking the two of you through both of your climaxes before stilling, just barely managing not to collapse on top of you.

There was a quiet that settled over the two of you in your after glow as you both caught your breath. You whined as he pulled out, going from feeling so full to so empty and hating it. He just chuckled softly, falling next to you and pulling you into his side.

“So,” You started softly, “Am I still the property of The Syndicate orr?” You asked. He chuckled softly, remembering what he said to you on the night you met.

“No, not the Syndicate. You’re mine.” He confirmed for you.

“Isn’t that like…kinda the same thing?” You asked. He rolled his eyes. Of course you couldn't let him have his cute moment.

“Good night Y/n, we’ll talk in the morning.” He mumbled, deciding the best move would be to try and get some sleep. The two of you were going to have a lot to talk about in the morning.

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