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a fluffy drabble for that new wack episode of jjk♡︎
Patience was a virtue that you were forced to learn when getting involved with Toji Fushiguro. Toji the assassin, Toji the gambler, Toji the liar, Toji the cheapskate. You were surprised that you even stuck by him after he told you he was an assassin. You never questioned his behaviors prior, the copious amounts of money he had gotten seemingly overnight only for him to blow it all within a few days. All that money on horse racing bets he couldn’t even win.
If you were being honest, you could tell how pissed off Toji got at your very presence even after his multiple attempts at scaring you away. You saw it all; the furrow in his eyebrow, the small scowl on his face when you wiped his face so softly with a washcloth on evenings he came to you when there was no one else. The piece of fabric would be soaked in blood and dirt as you pulled your hand away from his face, looking down at the first aid kit. You would feel his ever so piercing gaze on your body, as if he were trying to kill you through looks.
“Toji, why do you do all this?” You asked him one night, cleaning his bruised knuckles with alcohol pads. His hand was so large compared to yours, engulfing the tips of your fingers with a warmth you never knew a human body could produce.
“Do what?” He asked, his eyes staring at the wall.
“You always come to me when you’re beat up like this, but you look like you want to kill me too, kinda confusing,” You stated, applying a bit of ointment to the cut-up knuckles. He stayed silent for a little bit, the heaviness weighed down on you as the anticipation of his response picked at you.
“I don’t know where else to go.” His voice was barely above a whisper. You glanced at him before glancing down at his knuckles. Your thumb brushed over his scarred hands. You didn’t know much about man at all, but the statement churned your heart.
fluff, angst(?), suggestive content, nightmares, mentions of blood and bruises. yk toji being toji
He was everything you warned yourself to not go after. Rude, crude, blunt, cold, money-driven, gambling-addict asshole. Hell, he even had a whole son from another woman. Countless sunrises and sunsets passed before he came home, littered in scars, bruises and blood. He’d still plaster that stupid smirk as red matted his shirt, holding onto a new bleeding scar. He was like a damned street cat; gone, always getting in fights, but somehow managed to survive for this long.
“No welcome back? I’m hurt, (Y/N),” he would say, while you gathered the medical equipment you collected over the months of knowing Toji Fushiguro.
He never slept in your presence. Every time you woke up in the middle of the night, he would be looking at you. It was creepy at first, seeing his eyes illuminating in the dark, staring down at you.
“Toji, why don’t you ever sleep?” you asked him one night after a long evening of rendezvous. You listened to his heart pause at the question, his damp skin running cold. He took a deep breath in, shifting a bit on the bed.
“Sleep is for the weak.” You didn’t ask again. Instead, you attempted to stay up with him. By the time the hand struck 2am, you found your gaze being clouded in a haze of exhaustion as Toji’s deep voice lulled you to sleep.
You asked Megumi why his father refused to sleep, in which he shrugged his shoulders saying sometimes he heard Toji shout and whimper in his sleep.
Dark clouds blocked out the moon, the air was crisp and smelt of the earth, as the rain washed away the despair of the day. The eventual clap of thunder shook the small home, Megumi rushing to your side. He curled up next to you, burying himself in your waist as another round of thunder shook the windows at the slightest.
Steam from the bathroom spewed into your shared room as Toji stepped out of the shower, his towel lazily draped around his hips. He frowned at the sight before him; Megumi curled up next to you, his cheeks, nose and eyelids reddened from crying. Your hands twisted his messy locs ever so often as a soft hum left your mouth. “What a cockblock,” Toji pouted, causing you to roll your eyes.
“Oh please, you weren’t getting any tonight anyway; I have work tomorrow morning.” You mumbled, watching over Megumi’s soft expression. It was a nice change considering a constant frown etched on his face.
The bed dipped, as Toji laid in bed next to you. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was sulking a bit from the lack of attention. Megumi’s soft breaths followed by your sweet lullaby as the storm passed by. Soft blue light spewed into the room, penetrating your dainty translucent curtains. A heavy snore echoed, your gaze averting from Megumi to the man beside you.
Toji “Sleep is for the Weak” Fushiguro was actually asleep. The moonlight grazed over his fluttering eyelashes, highlighting his scar. His raven strands spilled over onto the white pillow; he looked so calm and peaceful. His hand gripped the sheets tightly, soft breaths heaved through his body.
His eyelashes glistened like dew; a tear rolling down his face.
“Goodnight Toji, my love.” You whispered, pressing a kiss on his temple as more tears slipped through his closed eyelids.
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oh but your thoughts on toji liking ramune instead of alcohol and got me thinking of introducing toji to boba drinks and him thinking the flavors were ridiculous but slowly liking them especially the mouth feeling of the tapioca balls. just boba dates with toji... going window shopping or just walking together in the park sipping boba. him trying to fluster you by taking a surprise sip of your drink or just straight up asking for a sip only for him to point out it’s an indirect kiss
YES AHHHH I LOVE THIS SO MUCH! THIS IS SO ADORABLE! here’s a little rambling for this cute idea because oh my god? im yearning with a capital y </33 x, x
wc: 1.4k
imagine toji waiting for you in front of the train station to go on your date, but you’re quite late.
he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but the rising panic and anxiety bubbling in his chest made him think that you stood him up, which was incredibly ridiculous because you two have been dating for months now and this is your nth time going out on a date. he’s heard you tell him that you love him more times than you two have gone out for a dinner, so he knows these thoughts are just ridiculous.
but you’re late and the anxiousness fades into worry because where are you?
toji almost calls you, thumb hovering over the call option in your contact info, until he hears you call his name from the other end of the platform. he looks up and sees your flushed face broken out into a smile as you run to him, carrying a small brown paper bag with some logo.
he meets you in between, running to your side. “you’re late,” he says when he gets close enough. “you alright?”
“yeah,” you reply, straightening up and holding the bag out to him. “bought us something!”
toji gets the bag from your hand and opens it, seeing two cups of some milky drink with brown jelly on top. “what’s this?” he asks, voice pattering off as he reads the name—grass jelly roasted milk tea. what.
“it’s milk tea!” you say. “from the new shop beside the- you know the one that satoru keeps talking about?”
he nods.
“yeah that one.”
toji grunts in response before giving you one of the milk teas and keeping the other. he peels a paper straw and gives that to you, smiling when you whisper a quiet ‘thank you’. he does the same for himself as he walks to the closest trash bin to dump the damp paper bag and the straw wrappers.
he walks back to stand beside you, silently wondering what made you think that he’d want one of these, let alone something similar to what the gojo brat apparently likes. but he holds his tongue, stabbing the plastic seal with the straw and taking a quick sip of the bizarrely-named drink.
toji hums in satisfaction before he can stop himself, and he blushes at your proud smile. “like it?” you ask even though you know that he does.
but he still says, “yeah.” then, “thanks, babe.” he savours the rising blush in your cheeks as he takes your hand and tangles his fingers with yours.
“let’s go?” he asks, tilting his head to the exit of the station. you nod, sipping cutely at your straw—tinted pink from where your lips met the paper. toji sips on his too, leading you two out of the station and into the busy streets of the shopping district.
. . . . . . . . . .
he should’ve known that your sweet-tooth and your new favourite shop would be a constant in your guys’ routine.
the next flavour that you bought was something half green and half pink. it made a cute combination, that toji would admit, but it still doesn’t stop him from being skeptical. “what’d you say this one’s again?”
you look up from your laptop, furrowed eyebrows smoothing as you turn to him. “what?”
“the flavour,” he says, “what’s it again?”
“oh,” you begin, blinking as if finally coming out of your zone. “matcha strawberry latte. no pearls and less ice.” then you are back to furiously typing away, face illuminated with the changing colours of your laptop screen—white, blue, orange. later you’d tell him that you were finishing up your presentation because your partner dropped out, leaving you to fill in the empty gaps that they left.
(”he didn’t even complete one fucking slide, toji! like what the actual fuck?”)
toji stabs his straw in and mixes the drink, watching as the green blends with the pink, creating an ugly mesh of colours. the taste was good though so toji just didn’t look at his cup as he finishes it.
. . . . . . . . . .
“hey!” toji says upon hearing you answer his call, sidestepping a teenager who chose to tie their laces in the middle of the mall’s walkway, of all places. “sorry i’m late, parking’s a bitch.”
there is a soft static on your line and toji frowns at your choppy service. the only thing he can make out was a broken, “s’okay- got us- milk- take c- i’m at-”, a click, and then silence.
he blinks at his phone, slowing down to check what’s wrong only to see that his data is on fucking roaming and that there is only one bar of signal. the mall’s wifi can’t even connect to his phone.
so. what now?
(”really?” you ask, arms crossed as toji walks to you. “why would you have them announce that i’m a fucking lost kid?” a mother gasps as she covers her son’s ears but neither you nor toji spared them a glance.
toji cringed, sheepishly rubbing at his neck and ducking his head low when parents gape at you two. toji understands your annoyance, of course, but his phone was acting up and he had no service so how else was he supposed to meet you?
“sorry,” toji tells you, taking your hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly at the back of your palm. “can’t contact you and was worried.”
“right,” you quip back, anger melting as you stare at him softly. “well, here y’go,” you say, holding out a familiar brown bag. toji smiles as he takes it from you, almost reminiscent of the first time you bought him milk tea.
toji pretends the lost children aren’t enviously watching you two sip your—he checks the flavour name—chocolate malt milk teas as you two walk out of the room.)
. . . . . . . . . .
“what’re these things?” toji asks, eyeballing the black balls at the bottom of the cup.
you do not answer so he looks up only to see you vigorously shaking your own drink, the balls spreading as the brown syrup and the milk mix together. your tongue’s poked out and your eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, and it’s such a cute look that toji can’t help but snap a quick picture of you.
he pockets his phone again, waiting for you to stop whatever it is you’re doing. he watches as you finally stab your straw in and sipped at the little dribble that pooled around the straw. toji laughs at seeing you frantically lapping at the cup’s seal.
you look at him, pouting. “what?”
“nothing,” toji says, still chuckling quietly. “what’re these things? i haven’t seen them yet,” he adds, shaking his own cup.
“oh,” you say, wiping at the corner of your lips. “those are pearls. i didn’t know if you’d like jelly or sago so i just went with the pearls.”
toji blinks, not knowing what you just said (later, he’d like sago better than pearls or jelly) before shrugging, silently copying whatever ritual you just pulled.
he startles when the first suck was full of pearls, and he accidentally swallows them all without getting the chance to chew. he grimaces at the feeling, and takes slow sips the second time to savour on the pearls.
toji looks at you upon tasting them, smiling contentedly. “like em,” he says.
you smile softly. “i know.”
toji’s heart swells.
. . . . . . . . . .
“that looks good,” toji says, nodding his head at your drink. this time, you bought different flavours: mango with yakult for yours, and melon for him.
“here.” you offer him your drink and toji takes a sip, noting that his lips are currently wrapped around your lipstick-tinted straw. he doesn’t even get to process the flavour, only lost at the thought of kissing you senseless until your lipgloss is staining his own lips.
he comes off with a pop. “that’s good,” he lies. “and we just shared an indirect kiss.”
you pause, fingers hovering over your phone as you look at him with wide eyes. toji watches, like always, as the blush crawls from your neck to your cheeks, filling them with so much colour.
part 2 of drunk and nasty , rated 18+, pls don't mind the fact I haven't posted part 2 to this in literal months, im just in a silly goofy mood with tumblr
It had been two weeks since that night of passion between you and Toji; much to your displeasure, he had not acknowledged you in the same light again since then. The man was married, how could you convince yourself otherwise that he liked you more than just a fucktoy? He kept evading time alone with you; you didn’t even get to mention the cracked open door. Furthermore, the overtime hours decreased over the weeks. You were the side dish, not the main course. The lack of attention and your disappointment started to seep into your overall attitude at the workplace. Always standing three steps behind Toji rather than side by side as usual.
The meeting dragged on longer than usual, flipping the slides of the presentation every time Toji finished his explanation. His baritone voice shook you to the core, and you were sure it affected the ladies in the room as well. “Without further ado, in the upcoming weeks, we will meet again with the other companies for one of our annual company business trips. The building will be closed for the following days while me and the higher ups will be gone.” A hand rose from the long table.
“Not to be that person, I’m glad we’ll have time off, but why isn’t it like usual when (Y/N) oversees our activities?” The man asked, taking a sip from his paper water cup.
“That’s because (Y/N) is coming with us.” Your eyes widened at the news, your breath getting caught in your throat. It seemed like everyone else was in shock too, you had never been invited to one of the company trips as you were diligent enough to run the building while he was gone. You pondered on the idea, however Toji took the silence as a way to continue the meeting, pulling you out of your thoughts.
Bidding farewell to all the employees, Toji waited for you against the wall. “Mr. Fushiguro, I couldn’t possibly go with-”
“Shh darling, think of it as a learning experience. So, start packing.” He said before walking off. You never wanted to flip off a man more than you did at this present moment.
You didn’t know if you should have felt excited or angry as you browsed through the mall in search of a bathing suit for the trip. After not acknowledging what happened that night with countless attempts to get him alone to discuss what happened, you couldn’t help but feel fed up. Looking through the racks, nothing piqued your interest enough; the swimsuits being either too promiscuous or too conservative. If you wanted to go through with your initial bathing suit, you were sure you’d be fired on the spot by your other higher ups. Your phone buzzed in your back pocket as countless notifications poured in from your co-worker group chat and the main man himself, Toji. You furrowed your eyebrows at the sudden message from Toji.
“Meet me at your place, we need to talk asap.” Oh, so now he wanted to talk.
“It is highly unprofessional to discuss matters pertaining to work at my home, Mr. Fushiguro.” Sending the message, you continued to browse around the store; nothing capturing your attention still. You hated how easily a simple message could get your heart fluttering like a lovesick teenager waiting for their crush to text them back.
“It’s not pertaining to work.” he replied, you could already sense the authoritative tone seething through the message. You sighed, putting your phone in your back pocket again.
The ride home was short; flutters of horniness gushed through your panties as the endless possibilities, but annoyance and anger rushed through your veins as well. Why now did he decide it was a good time to talk? A whole two weeks later? Pulling up to your driveway, you rested your head against the steering wheel. You already saw Toji’s body leaning against your door; he wore a fitting white tee, and grey sweatpants. (what a manwhore, you thought, but alas you weren’t any better yourself fucking a married man.) Stepping out of the car, Toji’s eyes fell on you, softening at the slightest before hardening once more. You figured it was a figment of your imagination from how quickly his expression changed. You beckoned him inside your cozy little home, sitting him down on your black loveseats. “Would you like a drink sir?” You asked, your hands gripping your thighs. He shook his head no before patting the seat next to him. You sat next to him, leaving a small gap between the both of you.
“Listen, about that night…”
“I already know, it won’t happen again. The alcohol got to me-” you started while Toji furrowed his eyebrows at your response before shaking his head.
“What are you even talking about? Like you said, it takes two to tango. I didn’t regret a thing.” He said, his hand inching towards your thigh. “I’m sorry for waiting so long to talk about this dollface. I left you in the shadows for so long, forgive me?” His body moved closer to yours, his face was so close. You felt his body temperature radiating off of him. His lips left soft butterfly kisses from your neck up to your jawline. Your fingers made their way into his soft hair, a sigh leaving your mouth as all former anger had dissipated into your body in the form of lust.
“Mr. Fushiguro, there was something-ah, about that night I didn’t tell you,” he hummed, suckling the skin on your neck before pulling away, a stern expression on his face.
“You’re pregnant?”
“What? No! I’ve been trying to talk to you because I saw that the door was open after we finished,” you scowled. The stern expression fell from his face before shrugging.
“Free show for them, I guess.” He smirked before biting down on your next. His calloused hand ran under your flimsy top, kneading at your plush breasts.
“But-” you continued.
“No buts, (y/n), at least the person knows you belong to me and me alone now.” His hands ran all over your body, as he focused his attention on your neck. His touch wasn’t as rough as it was two weeks ago; it was soft, tender even. Your body laid flat on the couch, Toji on top of you. His hips were gyrating against yours, soft huffs spilled over as he fondled your breasts. Pulling away, Toji stripped off his white tee, discarding it by your fireplace. Shrugging off the top you had, Toji stared at your perky nipples. “You’re so beautiful,” he said breathlessly, before taking your nipple in his mouth. His tongue prodded and rolled the bud in his mouth, he even tugged it with his teeth ever so gently causing you to take a sharp breath. His hand worked at your other breast, his knee pressed against your pulsating clothed clit.
Toji left butterfly kisses down your chest, down to your belly button. He blew a small raspberry on the chub of your tummy, before kissing your button. You gripped the hand around your waist, causing Toji to look up at you. “I want you,” you muttered, a small smile gracing your face. Toji removed his sweatpants, his big dick smacking against his lower abdomen. You don’t think you could ever get used to his dick size. He unzipped your pleated skirt, lifting your lower body a bit to fully remove your skirt and panties. Inch by inch, Toji inserted himself into you, holding his breath as your walls tightened against him. “Fuck Toji,” you sighed out in bliss. You felt full, his dick fitting in you just right.
He rolled his hips against yours, gripping at your hips. Your legs rested on top of his shoulders. Toji’s heavy breaths overpowered your muted moans caught in your throat. Pressing his weight down on you, his face was close to yours, his hands cupping your cheeks. His mouth fell agape, ghosts of words came out wordless. “I’m sorry,” he finally managed to get out, his forehead pressed against yours. Your hand traveled up to his face, the rough stubble grazing at the pads of your fingers. His green eyes were sorrowful, gazing down at you.
“It’s okay,” you managed to squeeze out, his pace was slow and deep; hitting every spot perfectly. Another high pitched moan ripped through your throat, the head of dick grazed against your g-spot. “Right there Toji!” He nodded, dipping his head in the crook of your neck. His soft hair was in your hands when he locked his mouth on your neck, suckling and biting your neck with the full intent of leaving hickies in places it was near impossible to hide. You whined, feeling your heart rummaged against your ribcage, tingles spread across your legs as the knot in your gut wound up with every thrust.
“Fuck, shit-” Toji cursed, pulling away from your neck, his other hand wrapped on the back of your neck, holding you closer to him so your foreheads were touching, your lips only a breath away. He watched you intently, gauging each tiny reaction to what he was doing, every squeak, every twitch of your eyebrow, the volume of your moans. You were close and he knew it. Toji could drown in your reactions, you were so reactive to him, so sensitive. “Darling, I’m close, fuck-” he groaned in your ear. The vibration of his voice sent you over the edge, pleasure exploded inside you, radiating outward. You writhed and bucked under him, trembling through your intense orgasm. Your hands gripped a hand full of his hair, riding out your high; your toes curled as waves of bliss and jitters crashed through every muscle in your body. From the tips of your fingers to the bottom balls of your feet.
Toji’s pace increased, his low groans pitched in volume; the intensity of his thrusts and his touch became overbearing. He made one last rough thrust, his dick twitching and pulsating inside of you as you felt the cum coat your walls. His body weight collapsed on top of you, his dick still inside of you. It was uncomfortable, between his heavy body and the blockage of the cum that threatened to spill out at any given moment. “I saw the janitor who opened the door. I already knew.” He said, moving his head down to find comfort on your breasts. His dick finally left your slit, a gush of the white substance trickled down onto your couch. “I fired him.” Your eyes widened, looking down at the top of his head. “He was there, watching. Rubbing one out while I fucked your brains out. Watching me finger you with my ring finger, watching that frame shatter. Cumming on the floors next to my office.” Words were lost in your throat, too tired to respond to Toji’s revelation.
“I’m glad… just don’t leave me in the dark like that again… you didn’t even acknowledge me outside of work,” you sighed out, closing your eyes.
“I won't, I promise, I was making sure the news didn’t slip.” You yawned, nodding to Toji’s response. It most definitely be an issue if the workplace found out you were fucking the boss, but of course, there’s already people that had their suspicions.
things get a little steamy between you and your hot neighbor in his garage
getou x reader, 18+, exhibition kink, mentions of smoking
The smothering summer heat smothered your lungs as you sat under the AC vent in your room, suckling on the cherry popsicle that dripped down your fingers. It stained your pretty lips and left your fingers sticky. You didn’t care really, it was so hot and you felt like you were going to melt even under the cold air. You generally hated summer; the heat, the insects especially the mosquitoes and the cicadas that sang loud in the afternoons and evenings, you hated it all. Well, all except for one thing. Your neighbour across from you; Suguru Getou, the college sophomore that just came home for the break. You met him while you two were in high school; he was a junior while you were a sophomore when his family moved into the neighbourhood. He made incredible marks and was a part of the top 3 in his class. To say you were shocked was an understatement, considering his appearance. His appearance was the embodiment of what every parent would hate their child to go after. His long raven hair was tied up in a half ponytail while the rest of his hair cascaded down his shoulders. His black graphic tee hugged his muscles that were designed in red and black ink. His ears hung with black gauges; god, he was perfect. Your small school crush had edged towards pure lust and a borderline obsession. You wanted him so bad.
You remember when you first discovered he played in a band; you were watering the plants outside your lawn, his garage door was wide out. The sound of drums beating and the fixing of guitar strings rang out in the empty neighbourhood. Looking both ways on the street, you jogged to his house, peeking your head in the doorway. There stood Getou in his black tank top and baggy black sweatpants, red guitar in hand. One of the other seniors, Satoru Gojo, slumped against the drums and the short haired brunette, Shoko was adjusting her guitar strings. “Looks like we have a visitor,” Gojo said, lifting his head, his snow blue eyes landing directly on your figure. Getou looked back and smiled.
“Ah, (y/n), this was the sophomore I was talking about. You’re a junior now, right?” He asked, setting his guitar down in his case. “Come sit,” his head pointed towards the peeling leather couch.
“Yes, I’m becoming a junior once we go back. I didn’t plan on staying longer, I just wanted to see where the noise was coming from. Sorry for intruding!” you squeaked out, gripping the doorway.
“We invite you, and tell us what you think about the song, kay?” Gojo said sluggishly, straightening his back. Shoko smiled, pulling out a cigarette.
“You want one?” She asked, offering the box to you, in which you shook your head ‘no’. Getou rolled his eyes, kicking the mini fridge door closed, holding a chilled water bottle.
“Shoko, they aren't a nicotine addict like you. Here (y/n),” he said, tossing the water bottle to you.
You giggled at the memory, watching the empty neighbourhood from your window. The sunset had turned the roads and auburn orange; it was pretty peaceful for the most part if you didn’t consider how it was absolutely boiling outside. Your eyes fluttered a bit as you watched Getou’s garage door open making your body perk up at the slightest. As the door opened, it revealed Getou in his tall glory, his black tank top hugging his waist, his black basketball shorts hiking up ever so slightly. Holding a bucket and a sponge, he approached the old red car that seemed to have a shine of its own. Pursing your lips, your mind wandered off with thoughts of a shirtless Getou with bubble studs running down his abs, causing you to feel a slight throb in your lower half.
You couldn’t wait any longer; you desperately needed that man.
Making your way outside, the heat slapped you in the face harshly. You could already feel the sweat starting to bead under your arms. Glancing both ways, you ran across the street, approaching the walkway to Getou’s home. The man paused his actions upon hearing your footsteps, turning to your direction. “Hey, (y/n)! What’s up?” He asked, filling the bucket with water from the hoses.
“No one was home and I felt kinda bored, are you about to wash the car?” You asked, walking over to the cadillac. He shrugged his broad shoulders.
“I was about to, but I don’t think watching me wash a car would be much entertainment for you,” Getou said with a smirk, turning off the hose water.
“I don’t mind,” you said, plopping yourself on the same old leather couch. (In fact, you enjoyed it more than you should have.) The sweat on your skin made the couch skin stick onto your body uncomfortably. He hummed, grabbing the soap resting on the wooden cabinet.
“Well, you can play with my guitar for the time being,” Getou smiled, spraying the car with the old green hose.
Your eyes remained locked on Getou as he scrubbed down the car, despite holding his guitar. “You just graduated right?” Getou asked, dunking the sponge in the soapy water.
“Yeah, I’m moving into the dorms next month,” you said, your fingertips running along the strings.
“Ah, which college?” he asked, looking over at you fiddling with the guitar.
“Same one as you, is it true that it’s a party school?” Getou let out a soft chuckle, rinsing down the car again with water.
“Between you and me, I go to at least 3 parties a week.” He snorted, small droplets of the water splashing onto his veiny forearms. Shifting in your seat, a wave of embarrassment washed over you; you hadn’t been to parties in high school, as you always had your nose in the books. Academics had always been your top priority, you had told yourself that you’ll experience school life during your last year of high school before realizing how little friends you had. You watched your early teen years run away from you by the time you turned 18. Getou seemed to notice your shift in demeanor, raising an eyebrow at your sullen face. “What’s wrong, dollface?” You flushed at the new nickname, stretching out your limbs as it was a habit whenever you were nervous.
“I just…never really got to experience high school; like the cool aspect of it. No parties or true friends. Just nothing. All I did was work and work. Of course, sometimes I hung out with your group, but it was never the same after you left,” you sighed out, laying your head against the old couch. “Even then, I felt like you were obligated to hang out with me because our parents were friends.” Getou’s eyes shifted from you to the car, as he held a tight grip on the microfiber towel.
“Do you still feel that way now?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, a little…” you mumbled, balling your fingers into a tight ball.
“Well, (y/n), the group likes you a lot; I like you a lot.” Getou said, dropping the towel on the hood of the car. His body moved towards yours in a hurry, his presence overwhelmed your senses. His cool wet skin came in contact with your hot sticky skin. “No experience huh? No drinking? No smoking?” He said, his finger hooking under your chin, beckoning your face even closer to his. “No partner?” You shook your head, your body continuously rising in temperature.
“I can teach you a few things,” he said, his lips ghosting over yours before he planted his moist lips against yours. Getou sucked the breath out of you, as his lips moved against yours. You tried chasing after his lips. He pulled away, chuckling, “you aren’t lying about not having experience, huh?”
“Shut up!” You flushed, your hands balling against your chest. He laughed, his hand moving up to cup your cheek.
“Just relax a bit, and follow my lead,” he said huskily, before pressing another open mouthed kiss. Slowly, you unballed your hands, resting them on Getou’s broad shoulders.
His other hand traveled down your body, resting at your waist, giving it a small squeeze. His weight on your body slowly caused you to lay down your body on the old couch while Getou pulled up, leaving butterfly kisses up your jaw. “I want you,” you finally said, a bit breathless from the intense kiss. With those three words, he picked you up from the couch, carrying you to the hood of his car. “W-wait! You just washed the car!”
“I’ve been waiting too long for me to care about the car right now,” he rasped, leaving sloppy kisses trailing down your neck. His cold hands went up your baggy shirt, leaving goosebumps on your heated skin before removing your shirt. He pressed a kiss on your collarbone, pinching at your nipples. Your breath got caught in your throat, legs twitching at the sudden stimulation. A sigh left your lips as Getou focused his attention at your perked up nipples.You let out a small gasp as he nipped at the sensitive bud, his teeth pulling at it. You looked down at him, your heart skipping a beat at the scene before you; his intense eyes were staring directly at you, his cheeks were slightly reddened. His breathing heavier as he switched off between sucking and twisting your nipples with his teeth. His mouth left your buds, a trace of saliva still connecting the two together before breaking. “Shorts off,” he said, taking off his tank top, revealing more of his tattoos that decorated his skin. Your eyes traveled down to his dark happy trail, your mouth slightly watering at the sight of his torso. “As much as I’m getting an ego boost from your drooling, I’m too fucking horny to keep waiting,” Getou said, trapping you on the car, both of his strong arms encasing your trembling body. Tugging down on your shorts, his thicker fingers played with your hole, his finger rimmed around teasing. A small whine left your mouth, dropping your head on his shoulder. Grinding your hips against his hand, soft pants eased out of you.
“Please Getou,” you gaped, your thighs twitching as heat pooled in your stomach. Your hand latched onto his wrist and he looked up at you, unamused. “It’s too much,” heavy breaths heaved through your body. A sly smirk split his face, pulling down his shorts. His dick slapped against his stomach; his tip was flushed red and precum oozed from the tiny hole. It was long and slender, with a small curve at the middle of his dick. It was a pretty dick in comparison to the porn you consumed thinking about the man in front of you. His tip pressed against your clenching hole, before pushing himself in you. A soft sigh left both of you; your walls expanding to accommodate his size. “S’ big,” you mewled out, feeling his dick throb at the slightest with your soft noises.
“Are you okay? Do you want me to move?” You nodded at Getou’s question, your heart slightly fluttering at his concerned tone.
You set the pads of my fingertips on his skin, gripping his shoulder. Touching him was addicting. Then, his first gentle thrust jerked against your hips.
He had hands on her hip, bracing himself, and his fingers curled into your flesh, strengthening their hold. His second thrust contained more power and went deeper, and this time your whole body bounced. Getou thrusted again and again, picking up his pace, and with each one you felt the pleasure build up in you with no time. The car started to rock with Getou’s increasingly rough thrusting, it creaked with age and weight. Your hot breaths rivaled the summer air that suffocated and put pressure on your lungs, trying to gasp for fresh air from his relentless thrusting. The scene before you made you salivate. His face, full of concentration, was haunting and erotic as he moved in and out of you. His raven hair loosened in its bun, strands of his hair stuck to his forehead. His grip on your hips tightened, soft grunts spewed from him. “Sugu- harder,” you managed to moan out, making the man nod while furrowing his eyebrows.
He slipped a hand behind your knee and lifted it, making your back fall flat on top of the cold car hood, setting your ankle on his shoulder and wrapped his tattooed arm around your thigh, pushing deeper with a thrust. His sounds of enjoyment were barely audible over your own moans. He pounded into you, furious and unapologetic, the car shook with brute force. The rubber band in his hair finally dropped, releasing his long hair and god, you wanted nothing more than to grab it. He knelt over you, moving his hand up to your jaw, roughly gripping it. Your wet bodies collided with each other, the hollow sound of your hips echoed in the open garage. You didn’t care if your neighbours heard how loud you were being. Your fingers entangled in his hair, pulling on the long strands. His eyes widened in shock at the sudden sensation, pausing his relentless thrusts. “Do it again.” Getou demanded, and you gladly obliged, tugging at his hair. A low whimper left his swollen lips. He picked up his pace once more; both of your moans mixed together, the air burned at your throats. His dick filled you perfectly, consistently hitting that sweet spot. The connection with him was too great, too powerful to hold back much longer. Your vision began to blur as pleasure spilled over. Pleasure from listening to his soft groans of satisfaction and the sheer force constantly abusing your sweet spot; it was not long before an orgasm washed over you, tears beading at your eyes. A silent moan got caught, leaving your mouth in an open ‘o’ expression as your back arched off the car. Getou’s orgasm came soon after, his iron grip on your leg and jaw clamped down, your walls milking him dry from his loads of cum that overflowed in your body. He dipped his head in your neck without pulling out, it was becoming a little uncomfortable for you. “How was your first time?” He asked, still panting into your collarbone.
“Amazing, but it would be even greater if you pulle-”
“Suguruuu, you know you left your wax pen at my- oh? What’s this?” The white haired male walked into the open garage, pausing in his long strides at the scene before him. Getou looked up at him, with a blank expression. Not even the slightest bit of shame or embarrassment on his face.
“Satoru, I’m kinda busy.” He deadpanned, you felt him getting hard once more inside you and wondered how much stamina the man had and if he had some sort of kink about getting caught in the act.
“I can definitely see that,” Gojo said as if he didn’t just walk in on his best friend rawdogging you and proceeded to make himself comfortable on the couch, manspreading his legs. Your eyes traveled down at the raging bulge constricting around Gojo’s pants, your eyes widening.
“So you two gonna continue or not?” He asked, with a sleazy smile.
angst, suggestive content + friends with benefits au, word count: 819
Gazing down at your watch, the small numbers read 11:30pm as the busy city finally rested as the late hours approached. He was out for weeks again. He wasn’t your lover, nor was he a friend; just right in the middle where you acted as lovers during the night and by day you were strangers. You two had agreed with no strings attached, but with a visit over a glass of whiskey and some ramen, the both of you knew the connection ran deeper than surface level.
Far deeper and it was horrific for a man who never knew how to love before. So he did what he knew best and ran. Ran as far as he could, gambling away his money and having sex with as many people as he could, but every time, he found his way back to you and you always had your arms wide open for the scarred man with the warmth of your cozy home. He could never fathom why you always welcomed him when he’s left and abandoned you for weeks upon weeks with no messages to be found. And the term you used always got him upset. “Welcome home! I left a space for your shoes!”
Home? He was barely even there, but he couldn’t deny the warmth from your house. He couldn’t deny how soft your touch was and how you said his name with such gentleness, “Toji.” He hated his name more than anything, but hearing it from you always made him melt. He hated how easily he succumbed to your presence. You were only meant to be a fuck. He hated that about you. He hated you so much.
He tried to push you away, being as distant as he could, but on those nights of passion, he couldn’t help but to pepper your head in kisses as you slept on his chest. His heart bled red for you, listening to his steady heartbeat and lulled you to sleep. On your forehead, his lips would move, saying“I love you so much” on days he watched you sleep, or he assumed you were asleep. You felt every lip movement that made your heart flutter to the highest heaven.
He hated finding comfort in your presence so much. He was putty in your hands. He was never putty for anyone; he left people in putty, not the other way around.
Upon hearing the hefty knock on your door, you stared as Toji opened the door with the spare key you had hidden under your pot. A small smile graced your feature, making Toji’s heart jump in its place, slight excitement filling his being like a puppy seeing its owner. Rushing over, he pressed a kiss on your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist. He picked you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his slim waist. Small giggles left your mouth as he made a beeline to your room, adjusting your body every so slightly along the way.
Laying on his damp bare chest after one of your trysts, your lips thinned out the slightest bit. “Toji? Can you be honest with me?”
“Hm? What’s wrong, love?” Your finger traced small circles on his chest that turned into small hearts that burned on his skin. Your heart skipped at the new pet name. You hesitated, looking down at his abs and back into his eyes.
“… you know it hurts me a lot when you leave me for a long time right? You keep pushing me away, why?” He didn’t know how to respond, his breath getting caught in his throat. “You know I believe your every word. It’s okay if you don’t love me anymore,” you said softly, pulling away from his chest and rolling onto your side. Toji could only stare at your shoulder blades as you breathed in and out. He heard the shudder in your breath and the tremble of your body as you held in your tears. You felt the weight dip in the mattress, before chapped lips pressed against your shoulder blades and hefty arms wrapped around your waist. The burn in your throat became more intense as your vision blurred with tears. “Toji, please. Stop it.” His small kisses trailed up to the crook of your neck before he stopped, burying his face in your neck. He listened to your veins rush with blood before he brought his calloused hand up to your chest, feeling the beat of your heart. He wanted to say those three words that made him feel alive, but he did not know love or how to speak it in a language you’d understand.
So he did what he knew best. Like a coward, he ran. Ran as far as he could to ignore confronting his emotions.
He never received your message when he left in the morning either.
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hehe, crossposted from my ao3! this is an 18+ toji x reader
word count: 2.9k
cw: alcohol usage, infidelity, body shots
Endless days at the office took up all the time you thought you had for yourself. Standing next to him, following him, reminding him of the never-ending business meetings that were crammed into his schedule. He always scowled at the reminder, but always softened his delivery with a “thank you, darling,” or any sort of those pet names. Your personal favorite was doll or darling, it sent flutters in your heart and lower bits. You felt bad for your raven haired boss as you both stayed in the office overtime when the moon stays at its highest point of the night, almost every night. Filling out paperwork and filing took up the overtime hours; your boss, by the time midnight struck, his tie was already loosened while his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His arms looked amazing, his veins became more prominent while he gripped his fountain pen. You could salivate at the sight of your disheveled-looking boss. Your eyes would travel up his arms and up to his hand, wondering how you’d look under him, his hand wrapped around your neck.
However, the moon would always illuminate the silver band around his ring finger in the midst of your lustful thoughts. It shined bright under the light, reflecting light onto your murkied thoughts, reminding you he is indeed a married man. You couldn’t help but feel guilty, knowing how badly you wanted your boss to be yours, but alas, he’s a married man with a family. “Mr. Fushiguro, these are the last of the documents,” you said in a small voice, when his sharp feline eyes gazed up at you from his work. His stoic expression morphed into a curt smile, taking the folder from your grasp.
“Thank you, darling. You should head off now, your partner is probably worried with how long you stay here,” Toji said, opening up the pale yellow folder. Looking down at your hands, heat rose to your cheeks.
“I don't really have someone waiting for me at home, I’m single, sir,” you responded, a bit flustered. Who wouldn’t be embarrassed to admit to their boss that you’re single as fuck? He let out a breath, before giving you an apologetic gaze. “I could say the same about you sir, you should probably head home. Your wife is waiting for you at home, we can continue filing later on, you don’t have anything on your schedule.”
“We don’t have any meetings? Thank fuck, I was getting tired of that old man,” He groaned, pausing while twiddling with that glimmering ring. The one you wished that he wore for you. “I mean, I suppose I do,” he continued, his voice void of any particular emotion. His eyes shifted towards the bottle of bourbon collecting dust at the corner of his office before his gaze flicked back to you, the moonlight seemed to make his eyes glow in the dark room. “Do you want to be a dear and bring me that bourbon? It’s been collecting dust since god knows when.” You nodded at his request, bringing back the beautifully decorated glass tray that held the bottle and several shot glasses lined with gold paint. Every step you took, you felt like shrinking back further and further. You nearly drowned in the intensity of his stare, withering inside your lust-ridden thoughts. Before Toji even asked, you opened the bottle, the sound of the stopper clinging against the glass made you cringe. Taking one of the shot glasses, you poured the bourbon, still feeling Toji’s predatory gaze on your body. His larger hand engulfed your much smaller ones, guiding the glass towards his mouth whilst still in your grasp.
Looking down at him, your heart skipped a beat watching your boss drink from your hands, his eyes staring directly up at you. A gush of wetness soaked your panties at his expression. He pulled away when he finished the shot. “I’m surprised you’re single, dollface. You follow orders so well, listen well. Gorgeous face, gorgeous body; truly a sight for sore eyes,” He commented, his eyes still dead set on your figure. You flushed at the comment, shifting your legs to alleviate the throbbing heat in between your legs. It was damn near painful to know you couldn’t get what you wanted. You sat on the corner of the dark wood desk, pressing your soaked pussy against the cool corner. A bit of pleasure shot through your veins upon secretly grinding against the corner. Toji’s usual nonchalant expression was a bit flushed, watching your movement, every hitch of your breath. Gazing back at your boss and the empty glass twiddling in his thick fingers, your hand trotted towards his glass. He quirked a thin eyebrow at your actions as you took the glass from him, filling it up with bourbon. You took a swing, feeling the hot liquid burn your throat as it slid down into your stomach. Your eyes locked on him as you finished the shot, setting it down back in front of Toji. A smirk split on his face, rolling his seat out a bit, patting his lap.
Perhaps alcohol made you too bold. Filling the glass with bourbon once more, your pumps clicked against the floors, walking towards Toji. You made yourself comfortable on his thick muscular thighs. You felt every dip and crease of his thigh despite the layers of clothes you two had on. Offering the glass to Toji once more, he drank the shot from your hand, a low groan gurgled in the back of his throat. “Am I doing good, Mr. Fushiguro?” You said, your voice feigning innocence. He looked down at you, his heavy hand gripping your thigh.
“So fucking good,” He growled out as you pushed your ass closer to his crouch, feeling his slightly hardened bulge grow. His body was pressed against your smaller body. You never realized how large he was against you, you never felt so small. Your heartbeat pulsated in more than one area, his hardening bulge pressing your plump ass. His rather large hand squeezed your plush thighs, slightly grinding your ass against his hardened dick.
“You’re not concerned at all that you’re doing this with your married boss?” He whispered into your ear, his hot breath sending tingles down your body, whimpering followed suit as your sensitive clit cried out for more stimulation. His grip on your thighs tightened as the sound of your skin tone pantyhose ripping echoed in the room, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear.
“I see how you stare, darling,” he empathized with the word darling, his hands traveling up to your waist. He picked you up, settling your body on the desk in front of you. Your back laid flat against the papers the two of you have been working on for hours. A yelp left your mouth as Toji forcibly spread your legs, pitifully looking at your boss, your eyes glossing in lust. “You don’t give a fuck about my marriage, always eyefucking me like that. I bet deep down you want to be my little fucktoy, hm?”
“I did care, if I didn’t I would have fucked you much sooner.” you replied, resting your legs on Toji’s broad shoulders. A lazy smirk spread across your face. “And what about you sir? It takes two to tango.” Another yelp spilled from your glossed lips upon feeling Toji’s heavy hand smack down on your clothed clit.
“You were doing so well, what happened with that mouth of yours?” Toji said mockingly, pressing his thumb against your sensitive nub. A wordless breath left your mouth, rolling your hips slightly to help with the unadulterated lust soaking through your panties. He let out a low whistle while pulling his hand away from your cunt; his thumb slightly damp. “God, you’re fucking soaked,” he muttered to himself, before licking his thumb from your juices. Your hands fumbled with the zipper on the side of your fitting pencil skirt, stopping in tracks upon seeing Toji’s menacing gaze. “Don’t. Keep them on, you don’t know what damned things this skirt does to me,” he said, pushing the skirt up to your belly, revealing the thin fabric of your pantyhose that barely covered your white lacy panties. Another rip captured your attention, a gust of cold air tickling at your pussy. Your lips desperately clung onto the panties’ damp moisture, outlining the shape of your cunt. With fluttering lashes, you looked at your boss, his expression looked much similarly to a hunger-stricken animal. It took him a while to bunch your underwear to the side, admiring the view of your wet, clenching pussy. A wave of insecurity washed over you, nearly making you close your legs.
“Mr. Fushi- ah!” Abruptly, his finger slid into you, burying itself in your plush walls. Heavy breaths came from you as Toji continued his ministrations. It was so hot, the temperature in your body and the room seemed to increase as beads of sweat on Toji’s forehead started to glisten under the moonlight. You could hear every lewd squelch, accompanied by Toji’s heightened breathing. He added another finger, a finger with a cool object wrapped around it that always stopped at the entrance of your slit; his wedding band. “Sir- please,” you managed to squeeze out, balling your hands on your blouse as a futile attempt to grip onto something.
“Say it again.” He rasped out, he felt your walls tightened a bit at the command. His voice was so low and riddled in hunger, it made your walls flutter.
“Sir,” you moaned out, rolling your hips with his fingering. The tips of his thick fingers brushed against your sweet spot, your hips jerking up followed by a pitchy moan. Dipping his head down, Toji can feel the heat radiating off of you. His nose brushed against your clit, before latching his mouth onto your nub. Your legs began to shake as pleasure and a lack of air built up in your being, as Toji’s tongue wrote his name on your clit, his fingers prodding at your g-spot. Toji nearly salivated at the taste of your cunt, a low moan gurgled in his throat. The vibrations of his moan sent you over the edge, the air left your lungs as you arched your back. You came in a heated rush, collapsing on the chilled desktop, electricity washing through every inch of your body. The coldness from the desk sent goosebumps across your feverish body. Heavy breaths heaved from your body, as Toji pulled away, his hands glistened in your juice. His chin dripped, his pupils were blown out. His gaze shifted from you to the forgotten bourbon bottle; the sound of the bottle opening brought you out of your hazed mind, seeing Toji taking a swing of it whilst buttoning his damp white shirt. He looked like he was carved by the Gods themselves, taking hours for every hill of muscle. Endless scars and improperly healed wounds decorated his torso, you couldn’t help but wonder what happened to him, including the scar adorning his lips. You hoped Toji didn’t notice your staring at his scars. (of course he did, he just opted not to say anything, for now.) Your eyes followed his happy trail down to the V in his hips. With a urgnancy, Toji’s hand ran down the buttons of your blouse, as they flew across the room in various directions. Your mouth fell open at his brute strength, you could already feel the smirk of cockiness from the man. “Oh you like that huh? I got plenty more where that came from,” he said, pulling down your matching white flower lace bra, immediately latching onto your nipple. A pleased sigh left your mouth as Toji paid attention to your breasts, slightly grinding his clothed bulge against your still tingly pussy. Before pulling away, he left a chaste kiss in between your breasts, his eyes gazing into yours. Grasping the bourbon, Toji looked at you. “I hope you don’t mind stains.”
“I’m sorry what?” Shivers shot up your spine, as the liquid filled your belly button the brim, nearly spilling over onto your belly. Arching your back up a bit, Toji’s hands ran under your back as his mouth latched onto your belly. The liquid burned in his throat, his tongue lapping at any remnants of the alcohol in your belly button before pulling away. He left a trail of sloppy kisses up to your collarbone, the alcohol in his grasp. The smell of alcohol lingered on your skin as Toji poured the bourbon on your collarbone before lapping it up. Unexpectedly, his teeth pierced your skin a bit before he suckled on it, leaving a burning red mark that would surely turn into a beautiful dark hickey by morning.
Pulling away from your neck, Toji nearly chuckled at your flustered expression. “You know the janitors should be here soon.” He said, pausing before he pulled down his boxers. His dick smacking against his lower abdomen. Your eyes widened at his size, not even paying attention to his expression. “Hey now, you’re gonna stare, you might as well take a picture,” he said, lining his head with your slit. The tip prodded your hole, your gasp getting caught in your breath.
“I’ve never been with anyone with your size…” you admit bashfully, making him chuckle.
“I’ll try to be gentle,” The head of his dick slipped between your folds, a groan leaving the two of you. It’s been awhile since Toji has had sex with his hectic schedule and his rocky marriage. Easing himself out and then back in at a steady pace, Toji huffed. Your pitched moans sounded like music to his ears; he drove into you, his thrusts became harder and harder with each pass until you were breathless and frantic. Your fingers clawed at the desk, gripping one of the folders. “Oh- God!” you cried out.
“Why are you calling my name?” He said with a cheeky grin, His furious thrusts sent the objects on his desk flying onto the floor, the sound of glass shattering made your body freeze up. The photo of his wife fell over, but you didn’t give a damn; all you could think about was the release that threatened and the blood rushing in your ears. Shameless moans spilled over your lips, increasing in volume as the knot in your gut continued to churn; you didn’t care if the janitors heard you. Hell, you didn’t care if the whole damn city heard you, you finally got what you wanted. “You sound like a whore, you want the janitors to hear you?” He said, leaning down close to your face.
“I don’t care!” you cried out, your lips ghosting over his; the hollow sound of your skins slapping together ricocheted in the room, spilling into the presumably empty hallways. The knot in your gut finally snapped, your mouth falling open whilst clawing at Toji’s veiny forearms. Toji looked down at your orgasmic face, the moonlight illuminating your features. He paused his thrusting to stop and admire your face. He looked down at you with such soft eyes, it was such a shame you didn’t see it.
Jitters ran through your body, your legs as weak as jello. Blinking slowly, your vision was greeted with Toji’s flushed expression. He was panting slightly, his tanned cheeks beamed red. His scarred lip twitched upwards into a smirk. “You back?” You nodded, your eyes glossy in forming tears from your intense orgasm. “Good. Wrap your arms around my neck.” You obeyed, feeling his arms wrap around your waist before lifting you up. Your back met the cool window, looking into his feline-like eyes. His hands moved down to your thighs to balance your body properly. Thrusting upwards, his tip brushed against your g-spot, another gasp leaving you. Toji didn’t waste any time with his driving pace. His breath became louder, labored, and short, as his thrusts were more frantic. He was as hard as a rock inside you, filling your walls. You could sense he was so close as were you with your sensitivity. “God, it’s like your pussy was made for me.”
“Only for you, Mr. Fushiguro,” you squealed out, your hold around his neck tightened as your back arched off the glass window. His body drove into your hips a final time, and then he was moaning again and again. Listening to him made your insides quiver, your walls fluttering around his pulsating dick. The feeling of him pulsing inside you was like nothing else, his constant animalistic moans nearly matched with your whorish ones.
“Fuck, (Y/N),” he groaned out one last time, his dick painting your insides white. He pressed his damp forehead against yours, his cum seemed endless, filling you to the absolute brim. You two stayed in that position for a while before Toji pulled out, his cum dripping down your thigh the moment he pulled out. He let your body fall against him, guiding you to the leather couch. Your head fell against his chest, listening to his heavy breathing and the rummage of his heartbeat. He pressed a kiss on the top of your head, squeezing your hip. Your tired eyes shifted towards the door as you two came down from your highs. Squinting at the door, you had wondered if the door was cracked open the entire time.
Kinktober Day One: Dumbification. Demon!Dabi x Reader
synopsis: You should have never listened to your friends. Now let’s hope you make it out alive.
a/n: hiiiii…. so I’m back, like i said… but a couple of weeks later. College is still kicking my ass, but I got this done just in time. I hope you it, and I’ll link my kinktober masterlist down below!
wc: 3.0k
warnings: smut, 18+, dumbification, slight hematolagnia (blood kink), demon dabi ruining your life bit by. If it’s not obvious, his spit is an aphrodisiac.
a semi-companion to this (because i continue to be a sl*t for gothic romance suguru)
thank you @nebulous-library for letting me wail about perfumes and the varying ones for gothic romance au suguru
f!reader, a hint of dissociation, that's about it!
there is an old well on the manor grounds.
you come upon it on a chilled morning, when the fog lays across the barren ground like a sea, little licks of it lapping at your ankles, stirring in your wake. the well rises stark from the mist, cleaves dark through it, a shoreline cliff.
even from a distance, you falter beneath its imposing build.
wilting honeysuckle shrouds it, the remnants of the blooms’ cloying perfume heavy in the air. it sours on your tongue, half-rotted fruit. the stone gleams bone-white through gaps in the vines, a peek of teeth.
you know it, you think distantly. know it in the way you know your name in a stranger's mouth.
the stone burns frigid against your fingertips, a spindle's prick of frost. you jerk away, breath catching deep in your throat, the world sharpening once more.
you cradle your trembling hand against your chest, your fingers—still stinging, a needlepoint ache—spread over your heart, over the honey-slow hum of your pulse.
the mist eddies around your skirt’s hem in wispy plumes as you stumble back. the well rises above you, the honeysuckle vines—all those slender tendrils woven together in a spiderweb tangle above the maw of the well—starting to sway.
the stirring breeze is swirling up from the well. an exhale, you think numbly. there's words in it, you think. hushed. slurred.
you step closer.
the honeysuckle is sickly-sweet, edged in decay. it settles in your head like sweet wine. the chill of the stone sinks through your clothing as you lean over the lip, your fingernails scraping against the grimy walls. you gaze down into the emptiness.
something gleams through the murk.
the breeze whistles around you. pulls at the froth of lace of your high collar like a lover's fingers, teases at your hair.
something gleams.
the wind coos.
something gleams blue. luminous and unearthly, st. elmo's fire crackling against a storm-struck sky. a crystalline lake, snowy-edged.
you tilt forward.
blue, blue, blue.
it blinks.
you slip.
an arm coils tight around your waist, reeling you up and back into the cradle of a strong body. there's a hand at the base of your throat, too, keeping you from toppling forward. your cry is plaintive, a meek little sound.
hush, getou says. i have you.
there's something, you choke out. someon—
hush, he says.
he keeps you tight against him, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of your waist. and you are drowning in his scent, earthen and wet, like the humid air of the hothouse that lingers on your skin long after you've left. like loam after rain, something vegetal pooling just beneath, faint but rooted deep. it slithers down your throat, encompasses you. buries you.
not yet, getou whispers into your hair, his voice a silken ribbon, winding smooth around you in a tender knot. not yet.
his slender fingers flex against your throat.
you come awake with a jolt.
getou is already at your side. his hair is an ink stain against the stark white of his nightshirt, spilling loose over his shoulder. the collar gapes open, the sharp jut of his collarbone exposed.
you screamed, he tells you. you understand why he came into your bedroom, don't you, he asks.
you do, you tell him. you're fine, you assure him, just sorry to have disturbed him.
but when he rises to leave, you grab his wrist without thought.
it was just a dream, he says gently. he trails his knuckles over the curve of your cheek. smiles. it shows his teeth.
just a dream, you repeat.
his onyx eyes glimmer in the firelight.
yes, he says.
it isn't until after he leaves that you notice. you only see it when you're smoothing down your blankets with still-trembling hands.
your sharp breath cuts, slices cold through your throat, opens you from neck to navel.
warnings: heavy angst, suicide and depressing thoughts (multiple mentions of touya not wanting to live, however, there are no graphic details regarding self-harm), down bad!touya, complete simp!touya, light smut, endeavor being a shit dad, domestic abuse/corporal punishment (not graphic, but passing mentions), mentions of bruises and burn scars, use of cigarettes, high school!au (quirks still exist tho)
a/n: i had so much fun writing this, especially as my first angst </3 this is for @tteokdoroki’s summer event, coming this summer, please check out everyone else’s works! also i wrote this while listening to august by ts on repeat so see if you can notice it in a few of the lines lol :)
please read this before reading!
There’s nothing like summer in Musutafu: taiko drums pound away through the night under soft lantern lights; fireflies linger on blades of grass, emitting a soft glow that adds a bit more to the summer heat; children run up and down the streets in excitement as school comes to an end, the rebirth of another few months of freedom.
Touya can’t help but scoff at them as he walks home.
His freedom feels like it’s being burned away into ash, little bits of it still caught on orange embers. School ending means no more excuses of projects and homework letting him slip out of the house and away from his father, his mother, and his three younger siblings who still look up at him like he’s the fucking sun. The guilt that always sits in the bottom of his stomach rises up in the summer, pushing against his chest as he perches on his chair at the dining table, his family eating in silence.
With a shove at his half-eaten plate, he mumbles the excuse of some report before padding up the steps and into his room. The lock clicks and echoes.
There’s just a week left of school. And this year, Touya graduates. Great.
He doesn’t know what he’ll do after. His father persists in him working at his office as a sidekick, but that just makes Touya want to vomit. He can barely be in the same house as him, let alone work alongside him. College is another bad option, no need to go further into that.
Touya flips onto the bed, puffing out air through his nose. At least Natsuo has some clue of what to do. Touya wishes he were him.
Leaning over to the dresser, Touya pulls the string of the lamp. The room fills with darkness, the thumps of the drums and the lights fireflies annoying him to the point where he pulls a pillow over his face.
…
“Hey, psst. Touya. What’cha doing after? Heard you might be working with your old man.”
Touya doesn’t know whether he wants to pull over his hoodie or turn around in his chair to talk to you. He never knows how to feel about you, the only person who really talks to him, the pretty girl. Half of him thinks that you’re the same as Keigo, pretty and popular and only willing to talk to losers like him for the sake of a joke.
The other, pathetic half of him thinks that you might actually like him. Ha.
Touya pulls his hood further down his face. Something hits him square in the back of his head, and he turns back to toss a glare in your direction, fire in his eyes.
“The fuck?”
You fail at hiding a smile, the corners of your lips tilting up. “What are you doing after school?”
“Don’t know. Why d’ya care?”
“We’re friends.”
Touya levels you with an incredulous look before laughing through his nose.
“C’mon, we’re friends!” You whine.
“Sure.” He turns back around, ignoring the feeling of his heart thumping wildly around his chest.
…
Graduation feels like a blur. All he remembers is his tie feeling like a noose around his neck.
He also vaguely remembers lifting his head when they called your name, watching your hair flutter behind you as you picked up your diploma. When it’s his turn, he swears he hears your pretty voice cheering his name.
…
“I care about you, Touya. This is for your own good.”
Touya closes his eyes. He wishes he were dead instead of having to feel like this, swallowed by flames and being burned alive.
…
“Touya, dear, can we talk? You know, your father just cares about you—“
“‘M heading out.”
“Oh, ah, alright!” He can hear is mother rustling her way out of the kitchen, slippers flopping against the floor. “Could you stop by the grocery store to get some eggs? I just need a carton—“
Touya slams the door on his way out.
On days like this, when the sun is hot enough to light all the leaves on fire, when not even dew sticks to blades of grass in the morning because it is just so hot, the kids stay home, locked up in air conditioned homes and cool swimming pools. Luckily for Touya, the Todoroki’s are all used to the heat, used to being lit aflame by the scorching sun.
On days like this, Touya sits on the swings at the park, letting the heat from the concrete and the beating sun soak him with enough sweat to make him stop thinking. His frost-white hair sticks to his forehead, and he wastes time wondering whether he should take his father’s offer or…
Or what? He really has no other choice. Which is why he hates thinking about it.
Which is why he usually ends up thinking about you.
Your hair, your eyes, the curve of your lips, the way your head tilts back when you laugh and the way you brush your hair back with one hand when you’re concentrating on something. When the breeze carries back his hair, he swears that he smells the sweet mango scent of your shampoo.
“Touya.”
And now, as he probably is having a heat stroke under the sun, he swears that he can hear you call his name. It’s so soft and gentle, it sounds so real.
“Touya.”
There’s a shove to his back, not hard at all, but unexpected enough that Touya slips from the swing, the sharp ends of woodchips embedding themselves into his skin and giving him splinters.
“Oh, gosh, Touya, are you alright?”
It is you, standing above him with your brows pinched together in concern and, wait, are you smirking right now?
Touya can’t believe it. “This is a dream.”
You snort before offering him a hand. “Are you on drugs?”
He grabs it and pulls himself up. “Not at the moment.”
Touya stands well above you, but he can’t help but feel like the smaller one here. You’ve always made him feel strange, butterflies resting in his stomach and something hard pressing on his chest like he can never get a full breath of air when he’s near you. But another part of him wants to swallow you up, keep you for his own, protect you from the parts of the world that fucked him over and left him like the shell of a man he is now.
Both parts scare the shit out of him, so he ignores it all. That’s the only thing he’s good at anyway.
“So.” Touya shoves his hands in his pocket, avoiding eye contact with you by choosing to glance up at the sun. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” You flounce over to the swings, pushing yourself with the balls of your feet to provide momentum. “I like coming here when I’m bored. It’s quiet.”
“It’s mine.” Touya scowls, kicking at the mulch, making sure that the spray of it hits your ankles.
You raise a brow. “You can’t own a park.”
“Watch me.”
“I’m watching.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay.”
When Touya has no comeback, you giggle, a breathless little thing that gives him goosebumps. He wants to bottle that sound just so he can listen to it again. “You’re cute.”
He almost trips over his own sneakers. “Wh-what?”
“Do you have a cigarette?”
You’re giving him whiplash with how fast you switch the conversation. Touya thinks you’re purposely messing with him, but with the way you look at him with stars in your eyes, he isn’t so sure.
“I don’t smoke.” He does. He’s a step away from needing to check into rehab.
“Don’t lie. You smell like nicotine all the time.”
“Fine.” He sits on the swing right next to yours, pulling a pack out of his pocket.
He passes a stick over to you, grabbing one for himself. He lights it easily with his quirk, pinky igniting the top of the cigarette. You watch with awe as he reaches over to set yours aflame too, a blue spark that dissolves into red embers.
“Why don’t you use your quirk that often?”
Touya stiffens. “You ask too many questions.”
“And you never really answer them.”
He sighs, letting the creaks of the swing-set fill the silence before he finds the right words. “My quirk is… double-edged. I burn with it.”
You glance over at him. It explains why he always wears hoodies and pants, even in the heat.
“Okay.” You take a long hit of your cigarette, staring up at the smoke that leaves your lips.
“Okay? That’s all you have to say?” Touya picks away at his sleeves, pinching them up his arms to cover the hideous scars. He doesn’t know why he told you about his quirk, no one knows, it’s why he would run into a bathroom stall during gym class so no one would see him change.
And yet, something inside told him to tell you. You bring out something in him, something scary, something… brave.
“Sometimes that’s all there is to say.”
And that’s how the day ends, two kids smoking on the swings while staring at the sun. The sky melts like a bright popsicle, red and pink mixing into puddles throughout the blue before stars begin to litter the expanse. It’s not all silent— usually with you asking him stupid questions (who cares about his favorite color?) — but when it is silent, it’s soothing. It’s nothing like the silence at the Todoroki estate, it’s better, it’s warm. Not as burning as the atmosphere around his father.
The night wraps up with you jumping off your swing, cigarette crushing under your shoe before you pick it back up. “See ya around, Touya.”
Touya watches as you flick the bud into a trashcan. Your figure turns into a speck before disappearing into the darkness, leaving him to wonder if you were actually with him all day or if he was simply hallucinating.
…
Touya forgot to bring eggs home.
He goes to get them the next day, cutting through the park as a shortcut when, in reality, the park is out of his way. But maybe, just maybe, he’ll catch the faint smell of mango in the air, an indicator that you truly do exist beyond the confines of his high school.
You aren’t there.
Okay, whatever, Touya will just go about his day and grab some eggs, wonder ‘what the fuck does pasteurized mean?’, and not think about your laugh, the way you hold your cigarette between your middle and ring finger, how you like to tap your shoe to a beat that doesn’t exist. He wonders if he can hear that melody someday. He’d ask you if he wasn’t so afraid— hell, he’d do so much if he wasn’t so scared of the feelings inside of him.
Just in case, Touya walks by the park on his way home. He can’t believe his eyes when he sees you sitting on the swings, the same one as yesterday, swaying slowly with the trees.
“You stalking me now, Todoroki?”
“I think it’s you doing the stalking.”
You fake a pout. “I was here first!”
Touya’s lip twitches. “Okay.”
The entire week goes on like that— one of you arriving at the park and the other soon following, sitting on the swings and smoking cigarettes until the sun sets. You’re a whirlwind of questions, and Touya answers when he feels like it. But, pretty soon, Touya is losing hold of all his secrets— you know his hometown, his first pet, his birthday. You could probably guess all of his passwords, which should frighten Touya, but… he feels free. The butterflies that used to be in his stomach when he was around you have turned into mush. The pressing on his chest is gone— in fact, he feels like he can breathe better around you, even when surrounded by the smoke of cigarettes.
He thinks that, maybe, you can be his savior. The answer to all his problems.
…
In July, when the heat is so unbearable that the flowers on lawns begin to wilt, you invite him over.
Your mom opens the door for you two, all smiles with sparking teeth and a glow that Touya recognizes from you. “Oh, you must be Touya! I’ve heard a lot about you!”
You shake your head, pulling Touya further into your house. “No, you haven’t. We’re going to my room. Don’t bother us.”
“Do you guys need snacks? Soda? Hold on, now, there might be a few popsicles in the freezer—“
“Mom!”
When the two of you are safe in the confines of your room, Touya speaks. “Actually, I kinda want a popsicle.”
“She’s fucking crazy, especially after my dad died.” You flop onto your bed, covering your face with your hands. “She can’t believe that I brought a boy home.”
Touya wrings his fingers while looking around your room, hoping that you don’t catch him blushing. The walls are a soft pastel pink, but he can barely see them with the various posters hung up, girl and boy bands, ripped pages from the covers of magazines, photo prints of you and your friends. There’s a bookshelf too, filled to the brim with bright spines that are clearly worn down with love, opened and fully read.
He sits gently on the bed. “Your room is a mess.”
You peek between your fingers. “All you ever do is complain.”
“You’re the one who wanted to be friends with me.”
Now you’re sitting up, grinning. “So you admit that we’re friends?”
Touya has to look away, or else he’ll be stuck there, staring forever at the way the skin by your eyes creases when you smile. “Didn’t say that.”
But you’re pulling him by his arm, your touch searing through the sleeve of his sweatshirt. It burns more than the summer sun, his quirk, his father’s cruel remarks. “Come on, just admit that we’re friends.”
You’ve tugged him a bit too close, his face right up and close to yours. “I—”
He thinks he’s dying. He can’t breathe, he can’t talk— all he can see is how deep and dark your pupils are, how he can see his own reflection through them. Your hand comes up, running through his hair gently, the same way that his mom would do when he was a boy, crying after training.
“Hell, Touya.” You tease, your lips brushing against his. “Have you ever been with a girl before? You’re practically shaking.”
He is— he’s simultaneously shaking and frozen, is that even possible? You hold his face, soft palms warming his cheeks and keeping him stable.
“Fine, then.”
Touya has tried to relive the moment, to find the right words to express how he felt when your lips met his, but he can’t. It was like he changed, like he wasn’t Touya Todoroki, son of Enji and Rei Todoroki, complete and utter failure who was forced to grow up too fast and too soon. With you, he’s Touya, your friend, the boy who smells like cigarettes and cologne that he stole from the mall, the boy who sits on the swings and makes you laugh without even trying, the boy who doesn’t need to prove himself in front of you because he’s already enough.
The moment isn’t very long, a knock at your door pulling you away.
“I brought popsicles for you kids any— oh! Oh, my, am I interrupting?”
“Mom!”
…
Late at night, back in his bed, Touya’s thinking about it again, thinking about you again. He wishes he’d taken the chance to run his hand through your hair, to cup your face, to trace your jaw and cheekbones so that he can memorize the terrain of it. He falls asleep thinking about the precise shape of your lips.
…
Touya’s mother asks why he’s up early cleaning his sheets. He doesn’t respond.
…
Next two week, you’re gone. I’m visiting family in Tokyo, you had said. Don’t really want to go, but I have no reason not to. Touya wishes he could have asked you to stay, especially when he hides under his covers, pillow over his ears to cover up the sound of taiko drums.
…
It’s mid-July when Touya gets a text message, from you. His heart buzzes along with the notification: cancel your plans. we’re going 2 the beach.
He texts back: No.
why
I hate the beach.
would u rather stay at home? i’ll go by myself >.<
…
“Your car sucks.”
“You know, I don’t have to drive you.”
“Bitch.”
“Dick. I’ll push you out of my car if you don’t shut up.”
“Fine, okay.”
…
The beach wasn’t awful. It was better than the park, Touya admits. Of course, crying children wandering on the boardwalk isn’t exactly ideal, but he liked watching the waves, shades of blue cascading over each other freely to create a work of art.
“C’mon!” You’re tugging him by the wrist down towards the coast. “We can watch the sunset down by the sand!”
Sand squishes between his toes and fingers as he sits by your side, like he always does. When you move to lay down, he scoffs.
“You’ll get sand in your hair.”
And yet, he lies down next to you without a moment of hesitation. He’s not scared anymore. He’s in control.
You smirk at him. “And yet, you’re right next to me.”
“Shut up.”
The two of you are close again, just like last time, but now Touya isn’t scared frozen. He lifts his hand, ready to trace your cheeks and nose and—
“I care about you, Touya.”
He stops, frozen once again. You lift a hand to push back the white strands of his hair which cover his cheeks, but he grabs your wrist before you can even graze his skin.
“What?”
“I said I care about you, ow, Touya!”
His fingers are wrapped around yours in a death grip, his knuckles turning white as he shakes. He thinks his brain is malfunctioning, because it’s you saying it, but all he can hear is his father’s voice, booming and thundering and just seconds away from making Touya want to kill himself for being a failure, for being in so much fucking pain as he feels his skin melting away into sunset red welts.
And fuck, he can hear the taiko drums from the boardwalk, thumping that is so similar to what he hears while he’s locked in his room, the echoes of his brothers falling to the floor while his father hits and yells, the sounds of Touya’s cowardice.
He hates himself. He regrets everything.
“Touya, you’re hurting me!”
He lets go, standing up and walking back without a word, but not before catching the tears in your eyes and the red ring forming on your wrist.
He wishes he could say sorry, say something, but he needs to get away, he needs to be gone, because the only thing he’s good at is running away.
…
July slips into August like melting ice cream, a steady drip before getting sticky and slick and then you look down and it’s all gone, evaporated by the heat. It’s hot, so fucking hot, Touya can’t stand it anymore. He’s decided.
He hasn’t seen you in days. He’s been avoiding the park, your texts, anything mango-scented like it’s a disease. It’s for the best, he convinces himself, forcing himself to stay away from you.
Except, the day of the plan… he can’t go through with it without saying goodbye to you. There’s a hole in his heart— maybe it’s from something else, but he thinks it will fill up if he sees you, just once last time, just for closure.
You’re at the swings, toes scraping against the mulch, eyes tilted downwards even as Touya’s heavy shoes echo against the pavement. The sun dips below the horizon, the navy blue dominating the sky along with silver stars, the teardrops of angels. And perhaps yours, as Touya comes closer, he sees that your eyes are brimmed with crimson, puffy and dry and all his fault.
“‘M sorry.”
Silence. Cicadas chirp in the trees.
A scoff from you. “That’s all you have to say?”
Anger has always made Touya defensive. “You know nothing about what I’ve been going through, you don’t understand—“
You stand up, stomping right up to him. “I get it, Touya, you have daddy issues. So does half the world. So do I. It doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole all the time—“
“What do you know about me?” Touya’s practically growling, his palms curled into fists. He swears he can feel sparks between his fingers. “You don’t even care about me, stop pretending, it makes me sick.”
“I love you, alright?” You cry out, shoving his chest.
Touya thinks he’s about to be sick, guilt burning a hole in his stomach because it’s not fair, you’re not supposed to love a monster. He’s selfish for making you love him right when you’re about to leave, he hates himself.
“No, you don’t.” His voice lowers into a whisper, because maybe if he says it then he can convince you to not love him anymore. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” You step closer to him.
“Stop. I’m leaving.”
“No, you aren’t. I’m right here—“
“You don’t get it, please, I’m leaving.” Now he’s crying, he’s crying. All he ever wanted was someone to love him, because no one ever has, no one has ever tried to talked to him, no one has offered him popsicles or taken him to the beach or tried to make him laugh. He can’t have it now, or ever, he doesn’t deserve it, he’s convinced himself and he can never change his mind. His father has given up on him, and so has he.
You cup his face, thumbing away his tears, keeping him anchored just a little bit longer. “I love you. Please don’t go.”
Touya shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Then just, stay with me. Just for tonight, please.”
He nods without thinking about it. “Okay.”
…
You’re tugging him now with vigor, racing to your car like two kids living like it’s the last day being alive. For Touya, it really is. He takes in everything, the precise color of your hair and skin and eyes, the texture of your palm against his. And when you pull off your shirt and peel off his, climbing over into his lap while he sits on the passenger seat, he takes in every single moment, leaves behind marks that will stay even after he’s gone.
“Touya.”
He memorizes the way you say his name, the way you moan it when he slips into you. It just sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth, the breathy lag in between the syllables giving him goosebumps. It’s almost enough to fix away the hatred he’s had for that name, the name that was always spit out of his father’s mouth in disgust.
Almost.
It’s embarrassing to say that he cried during sex, but it’s a lot less awkward because you cried too, your tears mixing with his as the two of you kiss and press your foreheads together. Maybe it’s the pain, the pleasure, a combination of both, but mostly the former.
“Don’t leave me.” You whisper against his jaw. You say it with every touch against his skin, and he can hear it within every whimper and gasp.
He doesn’t want to answer back. He thinks it’s because he doesn’t have a good enough answer, but in reality, he’s a coward. He might as well leave you by being his fitting self.
He says: “Okay.”
A kiss on your brow and he’s gone, blending into the shadows and leaving you in your car, alone. The only way you know that everything was real is from the faint smell of cigarettes and sweat.
…
Here lies Touya Todoroki. A son, a brother, a friend.
His burial was on the hottest day of the summer, a record temperature for Japan. Touya is most definitely rolling in his grave.
You did come. Touya wasn’t quite sure that you would, but you did after the ceremony had ended. Not empty-handed either, a bouquet of white roses in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other.
“Hey, Touya.” You whisper, dipping down to lay the roses on the dirt, the box of cigarettes to, but not before taking one out for yourself.
The end of summer always feels like a funeral. There’s still time to enjoy, but everyone is too busy mourning with September slowly creeping in. As you place the stick between your teeth, you wish that it ended faster. You aren’t sure if it refers to the summer or him.
You puff out the smoke, peering over at the new gravestone. It’s made of marble, courtesy of Endeavor and his wealth, perfect and completely un-Touya like. There’s a bit of smudge on the bottom of it, though— as you move to wipe it off, you notice that it’s not a smudge, it’s ash, and, wait, is that a letter C?
The nicotine must be getting to you. That must be it.
Here lies Touya Todoroki. A son, a brother, a friend.
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i was just in a silly goofy mood, dont take it seriously pls;; gojo x gn! reader
summary: gojo being a pick me boy for you
AU where curses don’t exist; tw underaged smoking and drinking courtesy of shoko. art by @reiouta
you didn’t know how much longer you could tolerate the menace to society; satoru gojo. as of the passing recent months, he started actually acknowledging your existence after months of hanging around his acquaintances. you weren’t sure if you missed that he walked past you as if you were thin air, constantly bumping shoulders with him or gojo actually pestering you in the name of “wanting to get closer.”
walking down the empty halls of your school, you had memorized each route gojo and his group walked down… just to avoid them. an all too familiar voice followed by a song boomed in the empty hallways; dread immediately rose in you, as you attempted to pick up speed to lose track of the white haired teen. “pretty boy coming through,” he said in a sing-a-long voice, his eyes landing on your distant figure. “(name)!” he called out, making you flinch. slowly, you turned your head, a forced smile burning the sides of your mouth.
“hey gojo,” you squeaked out; you wished you could beat yourself up for sounding so meek. on gojo’s sides, two others peered out, the more tolerable ones from the group; suguru getou and shoko ieiri. a sigh of relief left your mouth upon seeing the two. getou’s usual content expression morphed into one of a sly fox.
“now gojo, it’s not nice to scare the underclassmen. you should know better,” getou said, followed up by shoko’s sarcastic tsk tsk of disappointment.
“right? what would poor utahime think about you bothering her best friend?” shoko said. she wore gojo’s sunglasses, adjusting them every now and then when they slid down her high nose bridge.
you take it back. they were just as bad as him.
gojo’s mouth opened to say something, but the bell cut him off. saved by the bell; quite literally. “get to class,” he said instead, another smirk splitting his face.
“i plan to,” you deadpanned, before hastily rushing to your first period, math. never have you wanted to be in math class so bad until gojo popped into your life. hell, you weren’t even good at math.
why had he started tormenting you out of all people? there was nothing particularly extraordinary about you; maybe it was the fact you were close to utahime? or nanami and haibara?
lost in your thoughts and endless possibilities, you had missed the bell ringing until the bubbly boy peered over your desk. his doe-like eyes scanned your dazed out face. “(name)? earth to (name)?” haibara said, waving his hand in front of your face. the taller blond man sighed, watching you finally snap out of your thoughts.
“you don’t even have any of the notes written, (name), that isn’t good for the quiz tomorrow,” nanami said, pulling out his composition book, before beckoning you to take the notebook.
“kenny,” you started.
“i’ll take that notebook right back if you call me that again.”
“you are godsent,” you said, batting your eyelashes his way. a hearty laugh emitted from haibara, his bright smile nearly lit up nanami’s mood once more.
“what’s got you thinking so hard?” haibara asked, draping his body over the seat while watching you pack up.
“surely if you’re thinking, it’s never good,” nanami muttered, earning an offended ‘hey’ from you. pressing your cheek against your balled fist, letting out a small hum. do you tell them or not?
“it’s just that, you know how gojo had never acknowledged me before? he’s been non stop pestering me these days and i’m thinking to myself; why? he couldn’t possibly like utahime and trying to get information out of me, she hates his guts!” you exclaimed, adjusting the bag over your shoulders. the duo glanced at each other, focusing back on you.
“(name), have you considered that he may like you? you know? have a crush?” haibara said, scratching the back of his head. you stayed silent for a while, pondering on the idea of gojo liking you.
“that’s a joke right,”
“why are you so pessimistic about people actually taking interest in you, romantically?” nanami asked, leaning against the desk.
“no romantic attention from anyone my entire life,” you said, standing from your seat.
“how lonely,” haibara responded.
~
the last few periods went by quicker than expected. the ring of the bell pulled you out of your thoughts, turning away from the window. it was surprisingly beautiful for this time of year; the skies were blue, soft fluffy clouds passed every now and then. the occasional gust of wind rattled windows of your class as your teacher paused his lecture. you preferred the gloomy weather, but seeing the clear skies was nice. packing up your materials and standing, you peered out the door, widening your eyes. down the hall was your trio of haibara, nanami and utahime… speaking to the other trio. utahime’s raven hair was tied in a low ponytail, a vague look of annoyance washed over on her face as gojo spoke, her expression softened every time shoko had interjected the conversation. you always wondered why the two aren’t dating yet. nanami’s eyes landed on your figure, his fingers pointed downwards towards the steps, in hopes gojo hadn’t seen you yet.
unfortunately for the both of you, he had caught notice of nanami’s subtle hand motions and followed his eyes towards you. “wow, it’s (name)! we were just waiting on you!” gojo said, his sunglasses shifted downwards, revealing his icicle blue eyes. utahime turned towards you, mouthing an ‘i am so sorry.’ reluctantly, your feet dragged along the halls, it felt as if weights were tied around your ankles. eventually, you made it towards the group; gojo’s long arm draped around your shoulders. your heart raced at the sudden gesture, heat raising to your face. “wouldn’t we be so cute together? look how big my hand is compared to theirs!” he exclaimed, his hand engulfed in yours.
“nah, you guys wouldn’t, sorry he’s so annoying, (name). no wonder why getou gets more hoes than you,” shoko said, pulling out a single cigarette and a lighter from her bag. her auburn eyes met yours, “want one?”
“shoko! how many times do i have to say not to smoke? and (name) is young too!” utahime sighed, earning a small ‘sorry’ from the girl. the black haired teen peered over at you, another sly expression settling over his face.
“say, satoru; let me compare hands with (name) too, i want to see something,”
“you can compare from afar,” gojo responded, pulling you closer to his side. a chesire cat grin split shoko’s face, slinging her arm over your body as well.
“cmon satoru, sharing is caring~” her body smelt of husky tobacco, traces of pinewood on her uniform. her breath smelt like strawberry bubblegum; her glossed lips came closer to your ear, “play along,” she whispered, her brunette strands brushing against your cheek. a snore followed by a scoff came from gojo’s scrunched up expression.
“don’t you have a bottle of vodka you should be downing? besides (name) doesn’t like girls like you,” he said, sticking out his tongue.
“well, why don’t we ask (name), what do you say?”
“don’t put them on the spot like that; seriously, you guys, you’re third years for pete’s sake,” utahime swatted shoko’s arm off your body whilst poking gojo’s side, making him squeal as he let go of you. a frown replaced his usual cocky expression.
“geez utahime, i didn’t take you as the jealous type- ouch, what was that for?” gojo exclaimed, the water bottle bouncing off his head. he rubbed his head. you stared at haibara’s sympathetic expression, still processing everything that happened within a matter of minutes.
just what the fuck was going on?
weeks had passed since that incident and things had become fairly normal again. your grades were flourishing, with the help of haibara and nanami. the three of you have been hanging out more often; utahime and shoko finally started dating. the two of them occasionally tagged along with your trio. gojo has finally stopped pestering you; you should be happy, no? you had convinced yourself that you didn’t miss the attention from the white haired teen. everything you did felt empty without his presence.
you had memorized each hallway gojo and his group walked down, passing through them; in hopes he would stop you, calling your name in his usual whiny voice. you didn’t hear his favorite song; no more him bringing you close with his lanky arms. subconsciously, you brought your hand close to your shoulders, feeling the ghost of gojo’s touch. “(name)? what are you doing here? more like, why are you standing there?” a feminine voice called out. you turned, seeing shoko standing down the hall, her bag slugged over her shoulder, a lit cigarette dangled from the corner of her lips.
“shoko,” her name left your lips in a hushed whisper. “why are you here?” she quirked her lip to the side, pursing her pink lips.
“i’m heading to see menace 1 and menace 2, now, answer my question. you hardly come around these parts,” shoko said, leaning against the wall.
“can i come with you?”
“huh… ah, you miss gojo?” overwhelming amounts of embarrassment washed over your expression; you could already sense your face radiating in heat.
“whatever! i just want to check up on him, that’s all.”
walking down the road, you and shoko conversed, her short auburn tresses blowing in the wind. the roads and sidewalks were painted orange as the sun nestled under the skyline.
“i thought you stopped smoking?” you asked, as shoko tossed the finished cigarette on the sidewalk, stomping on it.
“i’m trying for utahime, but it gets hard when i’m stressed, you know? especially with dumb and dumber,” she said, pulling out a silver flask.
“shoko!”
“what? do you want a sip?”
“no!”
sitting at the park, getou and gojo awaited shoko’s arrival. squinting his eyes at the distance, getou spotted two figures walking towards them. “looks like shoko has company,” getou mentioned, looking back at his taller companion. a frustrated groan left gojo; his glasses slipping down his face.
“good god, if she brings utahime again,” he responded, extending his arms on the bench, his legs spread out. a sly smirk twitched onto getou’s face.
“hey shoko and (name)!” getou exclaimed, waving. gojo’s half-lidded eyes shot open at your name, adjusting his sunglasses. his lanky body rose from the bench, straightening out his sluggish position. he cleared his throat, crossing his legs over each other. upon seeing getou and shoko greet one another, your eyes drifted off to the white haired male sitting in the background, avoiding eye contact with you. a crestfallen expression washed over your face, shuffling over to gojo.
“hey, gojo,” you said softly, sitting across from him. he let out a hum of acknowledgement before looking down at the painted bench. “why have you been avoiding me?”
“why have i been avoiding you? i don’t know (name), maybe just maybe, it’s because i don’t want to bother you with my advances, y’know? could be a contributor i guess, i don’t know, it’s a mystery,” gojo responded, traces of sarcasm in his usual bright voice. he was quite literally a child, huh? your mind recoiled, a frown twitching onto your face. is this who you really want to date?
“listen, i know, and i’m sorry; i just miss you a lot, okay? i like you by my side,” you muttered the last part to yourself. unfortunately for you, gojo had heard every single bit of it.
“huh? what did you say?” he teased, resting his hand on top of yours. his glasses slide down his nose, revealing his ice blue eyes. “you like me, eh?”
“don’t push it.”
the winter semester rolled by rather quickly. walking into the heated building, you removed your outside shoes and scarf. after preparing yourself for the long day, you walked down the hallway, spotting your group down the hallway. peering over the group, gojo waved at you with a big smile, his cheeks and nose tip flushed red from the cold. “babe!” he said, walking over to you with opened arms. heat rose to your face, as he wrapped his arms around you, peppering your face with small kisses. his cold fingers cupped your feverish skin. “my own personal heater,” he said.
“hey, get a room, you two,” shoko said, pulling out an unlit cigarette. utahime frowned at her, as shoko mumbled a small sorry before putting away the cigarette.
“i know miss locking lips isn’t talking,” gojo sneered back. “guys look at how cute (name) is compared to me! their hands are so small!” he gushed, pressing your warm hands against his.
if it were you four months ago, you’d rip away your hand in disgust, however, a warm smile split your face, holding onto his long slender fingers.
“look they are even holding onto me,” gojo said, as the bell rang. everyone shuffled around to their respective classes as you and your group stayed at the end of the hall. with a smirk, his white eyelashes fluttered under his sunglasses. they slowly went down his nose bridge, exposing his beautiful eyes once more. “get to class.”
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