there’s no curse more twisted than love

The sky above the ship was a muted gray, covered with thick clouds that hung low over the horizon. The air was heavy with the scent of salt and seaweed, and the dampness clung to everything it touched. The island you were heading to was located amongst other islands. The islands were commonly referred to as the Sanguine Islands, some of the biggest islands in the Caribbean.

Captain Gojou stood at the helm as his hands rested on the ship's wheel. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was just as carefree as always. But you did know better. He was back to his usual self—cocky, arrogant, and always in control. He behaved kike the night before had never happened. What upset you the most was that you thought the two of you were getting somewhere. But it was all replaced by the same facade he wore when you first met him.

“Alright, gather ‘round,” Gojou called out. “We’ve got a map, and it’s time to head to our first destination.”

You were sitting on a wooden barrel when Gojou asked the crew to join him. You were speaking to Megumi and Yuuji about the map and if they had any ideas of what they would do with the treasure. Eventually, you walked over to him and stood a few feet behind the group, your fingers nervously clutching the map. Honestly, you didn’t want to give him the map, not after everything that happened, but you didn’t have a choice.

Still, you hesitated.

“Hey!” Gojou’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “The map, sweetheart. Don’t make me ask twice.”

You swallowed hard before stepping forward to hand him the map. Your fingers brushed against his as he took it from you, and you could feel the tension radiating from him.

“Good girl,” he muttered just loud enough for you to hear. The words were like a slap in the face. You stepped back, away from the group, as Gojou spread the map across a table on the deck. 

The way he acted as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t torn into you just hours ago, made your heart ache.

“We’re heading to an island,” Gojou began. “roughly three days' sail from here. It’s marked as uninhabited on most maps, but according to this,” he tapped the weathered parchment, “it’s got something we need. All you need to know is that we’re going there.”

“There is a catch, though. The island’s got a bit of a reputation. Cannibalistic locals, or so the rumors say. I’m not one for ghost stories, but if you’re the type to scare easily, consider this your warning to stay on the ship.” Gojou went to pick up the map before shouting out, “Oh, and Y/N, you’re coming too.”

The journey to the Sanguine Islands was uneventful, save for the occasional stormy waves that rocked the ship. You kept to yourself as usual, except for talking to the kids and Nanami. 

Something about those kids, though, was that they always seemed to be in a hurry. The other day, I saw Yuuji bringing a bucket below deck. I have never seen him get seasick or anything, and he lives on a ship. But it’s none of my business. 

It’s better to keep a low profile anyway, you thought to yourself. Besides, teenagers are sneaky.

Gojou seemed also to be keeping to himself. His usual cocky grin was back on his handsome face. It was unfortunate he was a good-looking man.

Finally, the islands appeared on the horizon, or at least what you could see of them. They were small, jagged pieces of land shrouded in mist. “This place gives me the creeps,” Yuuji muttered as he prepared to drop the anchor.

“It’s just an Island Itadori. You’ll be fine since you’re staying on the ship,” Nanami voiced.

“We’ll split into two groups. Half of you stay with the ship, which includes the kids, and the other half comes with me. Shokou, you also stay. We’ll check out the island, grab whatever treasure we can find, and return by nightfall.” Gojou announced.

As Gojou had previously stated, you were heading to the island, though you wished you weren't. You had a bad feeling when your feet touched the sand, and that feeling would only worsen. The group consisted of you, Toji, Getou, Nanami, and Captain Gojou. 

The deeper you ventured into the jungle, the more uneasy you felt. The trees seemed to close in around you, and the air was more humid than usual. Every now and then, you could hear the distant rustle of leaves from what you assumed were animals moving around in the underbrush. But whenever you turned to look, there was nothing.

“I don’t like this,” Getou muttered behind you.

“Quiet Suguru,” Gojou snapped. “We’re almost there.”

But “there” was nowhere to be found. The deeper the five of you went, the more lost you felt.

“Maybe we should head back?” You suggested quietly.

Gojou ignored you. Of course. But you could see the frustration in his expression as he tried to make sense of the map. 

“It’s like we’re going in fucking circles,” he muttered.

Suddenly, shouts erupted from the back of the group.

Before you could react, colorful figures burst from the treeline, their bodies covered in intricate tribal markings.

Chaos erupted as the four men fought back, but they were outnumbered. You ducked behind a tree as you tried to make sense of the situation.

“Retreat!” Toji shouted, his voice barely audible over the sound of clashing steel. “We need to get back to the ship!”

When you went to turn around, there was no clear path back.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, the attackers vanished into the jungle.

“Nice job, Satoru were trapped,” Getou drawled.

“We’re not trapped,” Gojou snapped before turning to you. “Give me the map.”

In the thick of the fight, Gojou had dropped the map, and you managed to pick it up before anyone from the opposing side could. Your hands trembled as you pulled the map from your bag. Gojou snatched it from you before unfolding the faded parchment.

But when he went to read the map, it had changed. 

Where there had once been clear markings were now a mess of lines and symbols that made no sense. The landmarks did not match what you had seen on the island.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Gojou muttered, his eyes narrowing as he studied the map. “It’s like the damn thing is cursed.”

“We will find a way back to the ship. And when we do, we’re leaving this godforsaken island. Treasure or not.”

The five of you spent hours trying to make your way through the jungle back to the beach, where you had made landfall. But every time you seemed like you were getting closer, the paths continued to change, leaving you all more lost than before.

“We’re going in circles,” Toji growled.

“We need to stop,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “We’re exhausted and not getting anywhere like this.”

For a moment, you thought he might snap at you, as he had multiple times before. Instead, he sighed, his shoulders slumping, as he folded the map and tucked it into his coat pocket. 

“Fine,” he muttered, “We’ll rest here for the night.”

You wasted no time helping the crew set up a makeshift camp. You found some palm leaves that could be used as a mat so you wouldn’t be sleeping on the cold, hard jungle ground because god knows what is in this place.

You sat near the edge of the camp with your back against a tree as you stared into the flickering firelight. Your mind drifted back to Gojou and how he consistently spoke to you throughout your journey. Even on the night of the Merchant’s ball, he had never looked at you this way, although he did seem conflicted, and you could see it in his eyes.

It didn’t make any sense.

Yes, Gojou was infuriating, arrogant, and impossible to read. But something about him made your heart race and your thoughts spiral out of control. It didn’t help that he was extremely attractive, either. But you refused to let yourself fall for him, not after how he had treated you and what he had done.

You decided that it was time for you to at least try and get some rest before dealing with more of his bullshit. By the time the first light of dawn broke through the canopy, most of the crew was up and about. Gojou decided that you had all stayed in the same place for too long and needed to get moving. However, whenever you seemed to be going in the right direction, the dense foliage would twist and shift, obscuring your path.

Toji led the group since he had a machete that could slice through the undergrowth. Gojou stood behind you in case the attackers returned and decided to ambush your group from behind.

“What the hell is wrong with this place?” Toji growled.

“I did tell you it had a reputation. Locals say it’s cursed. People who come here usually never leave.” Gojou said.

Usually?!

“You believe that superstitious nonsense?” Nanami chimed in.

“It’s not nonsense, you ass. We’ve been walking in circles for hours. This place is messed up.”

“Enough. Keep moving,” Gojou ordered. “We’ll find a way out. There’s always a way out.” 

The thick canopy above blocked out most of the sunlight, causing permanent twilight during the day. It was easy to lose track of time. The hours seemed to blur together, and exhaustion began to show. 

“Maybe we should turn back? We’re not getting anywhere like this.”

Gojou shot you a look full of irritation. “Why would we turn back? We aren’t turning back until we find what we came for.”

But wasn’t he just saying it was okay if we didn’t find any treasure?

You decided to stay silent, not wanting to piss Gojou off any further. 

“This damn map,” he muttered under his breath.

You approached him, looking over his shoulder to scan the map. “It doesn’t make any sense. It’s like the island keeps changing, and the map doesn’t match.”

Toji, watching the exchange, sheathed his machete and stepped closer. “Look, Gojou, she’s right. We’re not getting anywhere. This place is like a maze, and we need to come up with a new plan.”

For a moment, Gojou looked like he was going to argue. But then he let out a sharp breath before folding the map and tucking it back into his coat. “Fine,” he muttered. “We’ll take a break, regroup, and figure out what the hell is going on.”

You all let out a collective sigh of relief as you set up a temporary camp. It wasn’t much, but it gave you all a chance to catch your breath and tend to any scrapes or wounds. You sat on a fallen log, wiping the sweat from your brow. Your eyes drifted to Gojou, who stood a few feet away, staring into the jungle with a frown. He hadn’t said much since he decided to stop, and you could tell that your current situation was finally catching up with him.

You approached him cautiously, your voice soft as you spoke. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. This place is just… pissing me off.”

“It’s like the island doesn’t want us to leave.”

Gojou didn’t respond immediately, but he continued to reassure you that you would be able to make it out.

As the sun began to set, the jungle seemed to be alive. The sounds of the day gave way to something darker. You all huddled closer to the fire you had built. The flames illuminated your faces. No one spoke, not even Captain Gojou. 

You decided to once again try to get Gojou to get you to keep moving. “We need to keep moving. We can’t stay here.”

“I know,” he muttered. “But we’re not moving in the dark. This place is bad enough during the day.”

You couldn't argue with that. This place felt like a death trap, and the thought of venturing back out into the jungle made you more than uncomfortable. But staying here wasn’t much better.

You glanced at Gojou, wondering what he was thinking. His face was hard to read, but you could see the way his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, ready for whatever the night would bring.

But nothing ever came.

This is the third day you have been stuck on the island. The path the group had been following had disappeared. Every turn leads to a dead end or tangled vines. The thick canopy overhead barely lets any sunlight in. It casts strange shadows that play tricks on the mind.

“Dammit,” Gojou muttered as he hacked away a particularly stubborn branch with his sword.

You kept your distance from him, knowing how irritated he was now, considering that you had been on this island for longer than he wanted. Your conversations had long since died down since each of you was focused on your survival. Getou had been having a reaction to mosquito bites recently, which had significantly slowed the group down. You were sweaty and dirty and desperately wanted a bath. The muscles in your legs screamed in protest, but you pushed forward, determined not to hold the group back.

A sudden noise caught everyone’s attention. Before anyone could react, something shot out of the underbrush. Panic erupted as more figures emerged from the jungle. They had necklaces made of bones around their necks and clothing made out of what you hoped was animal hide. 

You heard Gojou shout something out before grabbing your arm and running in the opposite direction, away from the chaos. You noticed there was blood smeared on his sleeve and his sword drawn. You came to a stop, and he ordered you to stay close to him, not even sparing you a second glance before he turned his back and started walking. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, too exhausted and too shaken to argue with him. Following him was your only option, and judging by his demeanor, you could see that he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be stuck with you.

As the two of you walked, neither of you spoke. The only sounds that could be heard were the crunch of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

He didn’t stop walking, nor did he slow down. “No.”

“So we’re just wandering then?”

“You got a better idea?”

You didn’t bother responding. It wasn’t worth it. The ache in your legs had become unbearable, and it took more effort than you would have liked. But the last thing you were going to do was complain to him and have him think you’re weak. He already seemed to look down on you, and you didn’t think you could take any more of it.

“Why are you always like this?”

He stopped so suddenly that you almost ran into him.

“Like what?”

“Like you hate me. I’ve done nothing but try to help you and your crew. And all you do is push me away like I’m some… some nuisance.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his icy blue eyes studying you with an intensity that made your heart race. With a scoff, he turned away again. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then explain it to me. Tell me why you treat me like I’m nothing. Tell me why you act like—”

“Because it’s easier. It’s easier if I don’t care. If I don’t let myself...”

“Let’s go,” he muttered, turning away from you again. “We don’t have time for this.”

But you weren’t ready to let it go. “You don’t have to be like this.”

He didn’t respond and instead began walking again as you followed in silence. The jungle grew darker as the sun began to set, and the path became even harder to navigate. You stumbled over roots and rocks, your exhaustion making it difficult to keep up with Gojou.

After walking a little while, the two of you came across a small stream. Gojou knelt down by the water's edge, splashing some onto his face before drinking deeply. You followed his lead, kneeling beside his and cupping your hands to bring the cool water to your lips.

Then, without looking at you, Gojou spoke. “You should have stayed on the ship.” 

His words caught you off guard, and you looked at him in surprise. “What?” 

“You shouldn’t have come. You don’t belong here.” 

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What? You told me to come! I thought I was helping.”

“It was a mistake. You’re just making things harder.”

Instead of arguing or defending yourself, you simply nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat.

“We should keep moving.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Your heart was heavy as you followed him through the dense jungle. The canopy above filtered the light into beams that cast shadows across the jungle floor, but you felt none of their promised warmth. Gojou strode ahead of you; you hadn’t spoken in hours and didn’t dare break the silence. Your feet ached with each step, the rough terrain taking its toll on your body, but the pain was nothing compared to the ache in your chest.

He suddenly stopped, its abruptness making you stumble. “We’re losing daylight,” he said flatly before turning his back to you once more. “Keep up.”

You swallowed hard before nodding. Words sat heavy on our tongue—words you wanted to shout, to throw at him in anger and frustration—but you bit them back. What good would they do? He had made it perfectly clear where you stood with him.

As you continued to walk, you noticed you were beginning to struggle even more than before. In an instant, your foot caught on a root, and before you could even let out a gasp, you were falling. The world spun, and pain shot through your ankle as you hit the earth. You bit back a cry, the sharp sting making its way up your leg. 

Gojou stopped again. This time, he glanced over his shoulder. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes.

“Get up.” Get up? What the fuck? He didn’t move to help you and didn’t even offer you a hand. It was as if he expected you to pick yourself up, just like you always did.

You clenched your teeth. The pain was unbearable. Slowly, you managed to push yourself up, wincing as you put weight on your injured leg. It was clear that you couldn’t walk properly, but Gojou had already turned his back on you. Again.

For a moment, you just stood there. Your chest heaved in an effort to hold back you emotions. How many times would you have to prove your worth to him? How many times would he let you fall only to leave you behind without so much as a glance?

With a deep breath, you forced yourself to move. You limped after him with every step, sending a fresh wave of pain through your ankle, but you kept going. You had to. Not because he asked you to—but because you refused to be left behind.

It wasn’t until you heard the sound of running water that you realized the jungle was thinning out. Gojou was stopped a few feet in front of you with his gaze fixed on something in the distance. When you caught up, you saw what had gotten his attention—a river that cut through the dense forest.

“We need to find a way across. The island won't wait for us to figure it out.”

You nodded, though the pain in your ankle made the mere thought of crossing a river seem impossible, but you knew it was better not to voice your concerns. He wouldn't care. He never did. Not really.

The riverbank was rocky and uneven, and you found yourself trailing behind Gojou as he scouted ahead. You tried to mask the limp in your step, but he noticed. Of course, he did.

“You’re slowing us down. If you can't keep up, I’ll have to leave you behind.”

Of course. You expected no less from a heartless man like him.

“I can manage,” you replied quietly.

The two of you finally made it across the river, not without some trouble due to your injury. When you looked up, you could see the evening sky as it bled into soft shades of violet and indigo. The island’s edge was near, and you could hear the faint sounds of waves and the smell of salty seawater.

“We need to get off this island before night falls.” He started toward the beach without waiting for you, making it hard to keep up with his long strides. You followed him, limping slightly as you looked for any way to escape the island. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a small, weathered boat hidden behind a stack of driftwood. It looked old, and it probably couldn’t even float without sinking. But it was better than nothing.

“We can use that,” you called after Gojou. “But the oars…”

Gojou glanced at the boat before glancing back at you. “We don’t have a choice. We’ll figure it out.”

Without another word, he made his way over to the boat and began inspecting the vessel, running his hands over the worn wood to assess its condition. You stood back, watching him work. You limped over to the boat and knelt beside one of the broken oars, running your fingers along the jagged edge. “We could try to fix this,” you offered, unsure if he would even listen.

Gojou glanced up at you, and you thought he might snap at you. But surprisingly, he nodded.

“Do what you can,” he said before turning back to the boat.

With whatever scraps of driftwood and vines you could find, you began the makeshift repairs on the oars. The pain in your ankle throbbed with each movement, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through it. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, and when you finally managed to piece together something that resembled an oar, the sky was now a deep purple. It wasn’t pretty, but it would have to do.

“I think this will work,” you said, holding it up for Gojou to see.

He turned to inspect your handiwork, his eyes glancing over the makeshift oar. A small grunt of approval escaped his lips, and without saying another word, he began pushing the boat toward the water. You moved to help him despite the sharp pain in your leg. Together, the two of you heaved the boat into the shallows as the cold water lapped at your ankles. Gojou climbed in first before holding his hand out to you. It was the first time he had offered his help on your journey.

You hesitated for a moment before taking his hand and climbing into the boat. The oar you had repaired was far from perfect, but somehow, Gojou managed to guide the small vessel through the gentle waves. The island slowly began to fade from view, being swallowed by the darkness. You sat opposite him with your legs tucked beneath you. 

The small boat rocked gently as you neared the ship that could be seen on the horizon. Its lanterns on board had guided the both of you back, and for that, you were eternally grateful. Relief had washed over you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the pain in your ankle, which you had somehow almost forgotten about. 

Gojou continued to silently row the small boat toward the ship, his gaze fixed ahead. As you neared the ship, you could make out figures on the deck. It seemed like Nanami, Getou, and Toji had made it back safely, just as Gojou had predicted a few days ago. 

Yuuji and Ino quickly made work of pulling the small rowboat onto the side of the ship so you and Gojou could board once more. But the moment you tried to move, the pain flared up again, causing you to wince. You bit back a groan because you were unwilling to show weakness, especially in front of Gojou.

The boat bumped softly against the side of the ship, and without a word, he stood and glanced down at you, his eyes narrowed as he took in your obvious discomfort. You knew what was coming before he even moved, but that didn’t stop the jolt of surprise when he bent down and scooped you up in one swift motion, cradling you against his chest.

“W-what are you—”

“Can’t have you limping around the deck like a wounded animal. Besides, you can’t fix your ankle if you can’t even stand.”

Jesus Christ, this man is hot and cold. Can he please make up his mind?

Your protests fell flat as you realized how futile they were. He carried you through the deck of the ship, heading straight for his quarters. The door to his cabin creaked open, and Gojou carried you inside. He gently lowered you onto his bed.

“Stay here. I’ll get Shokou.”

Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. You let out a slow breath, the tension in your body easing slightly now that you were alone. Your ankle still hurt, but at least you were off of it.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open again, and Shokou stepped inside. She carried a small medical kit with her. There was a hint of amusement in her expression as she glanced at you on the bed.

“Well, well, look who’s in need of some help,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I figured Gojou was being dramatic when he said you broke your ankle. Guess I owe him an apology.”

You forced a weak smile, wincing as you shifted slightly on the bed. “It’s not as bad as it looks… maybe.”

“Yeah, sure. Let me take a look.”

She knelt beside the bed and gently began to examine your ankle. It was swollen and bruised from all the walking you did on it. Her touch was light, but it didn’t stop the pain as she assessed the damage. You sucked in a sharp breath, biting down on your lip to stop yourself from making any noise.

“Hate to break it to you,” Shokou said after a moment, “but it’s definitely broken. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse, though. A little rest, and you’ll be good as new.”

She kept up a light conversation as she worked on bandaging your ankle. She carefully wrapped it before turning her attention to a small vial she pulled from her kit. “This should help with the pain,” she said, offering you a dose. “Drink up.”

You accepted the vial with a quiet nod. The liquid was bitter, but the relief that followed was almost immediate. The pain dulled to a more manageable state. 

Is this shit magic?

As Shokou finished up, Gojou reappeared in the doorway, casually leaning against the frame. His cerulean eyes flicked over to your bandaged ankle before settling on Shokou. “How bad?”

“Not bad enough to keep her out of trouble for long,” Shokou replied with a smirk, standing up and dusting off her hands. “She’ll be fine, but she needs to stay off it for a few days.”

“You heard her. No more running around.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you muttered.

Shokou began to pack up her kit, and before turning to leave, she gave you a quick pat on the shoulder. “I’ll check on you later,” she said, flashing you one last smile before disappearing out the door.

With it just being you and Gojou, the two of you fell into an uncomfortable silence. Gojou lingered for a moment before he pushed off the doorframe and approached the bed. 

“You did good back there,” he grumbled.

“Thanks… I guess.”

Without another word, Gojou turned back to the door. “Get some rest,” he called over his shoulder before stepping out, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room.

Not long after Gojou left, you sat in silence. Your ankle lightly throbbed, though Shokou’s treatment had eased some of the pain. The ache that lingered in your chest was another matter entirely. You hated everything about this ship, the adults on this ship, and most of all, Captain Gojou. All of them seemed to be pushing you towards a breaking point.

The door creaked open again, and you glanced up, expecting Shokou to check up on you. Unfortunately, it was Gojou. He glanced over at you briefly before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“Are we going anywhere near Elysport?” you blurted.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by the question. "Why?"

"Because I need to know. I need to know when I can leave this fucking ship."

His eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"I hate it here. I hate this ship, the way everyone looks at me, and I especially hate the way you’ve been treating me like I’m nothing more than a problem."

"I’m treating you like a problem?"

"Yes!" you snapped, pushing yourself up. "You’ve been an asshole from the start. You act like I’m just some burden you’re forced to carry, and I’m sick of it."

The way I treat you is because I’m keeping you alive. This isn’t some fucking pleasure cruise. You’re out of your depth, and I don’t have the luxury to babysit you."

"I don’t need you to babysit me, Gojou!" you shot back. "I need you to stop treating me like I’m invisible. You drag me along on this ship, ignore me, and then throw me a few scraps of attention when it suits you. I’m tired of it!"

"You think I’ve been ignoring you? I’m trying to protect you, even if you don’t see it. The less attention you get from the wrong people, the better. And if I have to push you away to do that, I will."

"I don’t need your protection, Gojou. I’m not some fragile doll who’s going to break at the first sign of danger."

"You have no idea what you’re talking about. This world we’re in—it’s cutthroat. People die. You’ve already seen that. And if you think leaving this ship is going to solve your problems, you’re dead wrong.”

"I don’t care!" you spat. "I want off this ship. I’ll take my chances out there. I’d rather deal with the dangers of the world on my own than be stuck here, treated like I don’t matter."

"You really think you’ll be safer anywhere else? That if you leave, everything will magically be fine?"

"I don’t care if it’s safer. I just want out. I can’t stand being here with you anymore, with the way you’ve been acting."

“I act this way because I have to. This world isn’t for someone like you.”

“The world is this way because of people like you! Maybe my father was right about pirates, considering people like you were the ones who killed her,” you spat. "Stop acting like you know me. You don’t know what I can handle, and I don’t need you making that choice for me. If we get near Elysport, I’m leaving."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "We’ll talk about this later,” he said before turning to the door.

“Damn him.”

You didn’t care what Gojou thought or what he claimed. You were done with being treated like you were a piece of cargo who he could just push around whenever he felt like it. Besides, you could check up on how your father was doing if you went back to Elysport. Before leaving, you never spoke to your father much, except for the occasional holiday or whenever he was in the right mind to chat. You thought about how panicked he must be, knowing his only daughter was missing. Did he pray to God to bring you home the same he did all those years ago? You wondered if he was spiraling like he did after your mother’s death or if he was holding it together. You wondered if he was hoping his little girl's body would wash up on shore just as his wife’s did fourteen years ago. The two of you may have been distant in the last few years, but he was your father, and you loved him. You were a daddy’s girl through and through.

You wanted to go home.

“Sweetheart, you got lucky. We’re going to a place close enough to Elysport for you to take a carriage.” 

You looked up from the book you were reading to see Gojou standing in the doorway. You were sitting on Gojou’s bed reading one of his books with your ankle propped up on a pillow. You were surprised to hear that they were going in that general direction, considering their constant need to be in danger. Plus, you were surprised to hear that he was even letting you leave with his atrocious behavior.

“Oh, really? I’m surprised you’re even letting me off this ship,” you breathed. 

“I had a discussion with the rest of the crew, and they decided it would be best for you to leave if you truly want to. Yuuji was pretty opposed to the idea. The kid likes talking to you.”

“Well, that makes everyone else infinitely more likable than you. Oh, and also, you can keep the map; I don’t want it. It’s caused me enough trouble as it is, seeing I’m here with you.”

“Can you not be bratty for five minutes?”

“Can you not be an asshole for five minutes?”

“You should behave more like how you did on the island, submissive and silent. I liked you better then.” he spat. “Be more grateful we’re going anywhere near Elysport since we need a restock on supplies. For some reason, more supplies have been going missing even though you don’t even eat much or use much of it.”

It had been a few days since your accident, and your ankle was healing quite nicely. You could finally walk on it just in time to make it to Hinsoll Port, a port neighboring Elysport. For some reason, Gojou let you stay in his room, which you will admit was pretty nice of him. When you slept, he would sleep on his chair, and to be honest, it made you feel bad because of how uncomfortable it looked.

The day you got to the port, you stood at the edge of the dock as the wind tousled your hair. And for the first time in days, you finally felt free. You had been dropped off by Gojou while his ship was being restocked, and Yuuji was quite sad to see you go, so maybe he wasn’t lying about that. You had packed the little amount of stuff you had brought along with you and began walking down the dock. Regretfully, you decided to turn around, and low and behold, Gojou was leaning on the ship, watching you leave. He didn’t come to say goodbye as the rest of the crew had, and you just chalked it up to him being a self-righteous asshole.

Gojou had made it clear. We’re not going directly to Elysport, but close enough for you to take a carriage. You felt a pang of regret as you walked down the dock, as you were leaving behind a life you had known for only a month. Had it really been that long? You thought back to when Gojou had said sorry for once the night he had called you a whore and had carried you to a hotel so the two of you wouldn’t have to walk back. But that was before you had started this whole treasure hunt, and the last “hunt was disastrous. Even so, didn’t they need part of that for said treasure, and they don’t have it? Oh well, it’s not your problem anymore.

You made your way to the carriage station, and soon enough, you were tucked inside as the wooden wheels creaked beneath you. Your fingers played with the fabric of your skirts while the sound of hooves against dirt calmed your nerves.

When the late afternoon hit, you could see the streets of Elysport as the carriage came to a halt in front of your father’s house. The moment your foot hit the ground, you were hit with a wave of nostalgia. The city port smelled exactly the same as it had the day you left. It was kind of like an old friend pulling you into a warm embrace.

You hesitated for a moment while standing at the wooden door of your childhood home. It was a modest home ticked away on a quiet street. You used to take care of your father’s garden every once in a while, but it had since grown a bit wild in your absence. Your heart pounded in your chest as you raised your hand to knock on the door, unsure of how he would react to seeing you after being gone for a month.

The door creaked open, and there he was. Your father stood in the doorway, his face haint and his eyes sunken in. But the moment he saw you, his expression shifted into shock, disbelief, and finally, joy.

His arms were around you before you could say a word. “Thank God,” he whispered as he buried his face in your hair. “Thank God for bringing my little girl home.” You melted into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the stray tears that had slipped down your cheeks. “I prayed every night for you, hoping you'd come back to me.”

“I’m here now. I’m home.”

Your father just held you, and it was as if he was afraid that if he were to let go, you would disappear again. Eventually, he stepped back, his eyes glazed over, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Could you do me a favor, darling? The market’s still open. Would you pick me up some herbs? I was thinking of making a stew tonight since you came home.”

You nodded quickly, eager to please and eager to slip back into a normal routine. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

The marketplace was just as lively as you remembered. The sounds of laughter and conversation filled the air, along with baked goods and roast meats. As you made your way through the crowd, picking up the herbs your father had requested, you caught sight of an unfamiliar figure at the edge of the market. He stood out like a sore thumb—leaning casually against a stall. His pink hair stood out against the drab green and browns of the market, but it was the tattoos curling along his face that truly set him apart.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

You were startled by the sudden appearance of the man with pink hair. You swallowed, unsure of how to respond. “We’ve heard about you. A traveler, are you not? Someone who’s seen more than they probably should.”

You blinked, confusion flooding your mind. “I—no, I’m just—”

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t looking for something. We all are.”

“I’m just here for my father,” you said, your voice coming out smaller than you intended.

"Of course you are. But that doesn’t mean you have to leave empty-handed.”

 “What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say,” Sukuna said, his grin widening, “we have an offer you can’t refuse. One that doesn’t involve treasure. All you need to do is listen.”

“What is this offer?”

“You know,” he began. “I thought I’d made it simple. Put up the wanted signs, sit back, and wait for you to be brought to me, along with the map.”

So that’s what he wants.

“I don’t have the map.”

Then, with a disappointed sigh, he stepped closer. “What a shame,” he murmured.“I was hoping you’d make things easier for me.”

“I told you, I don’t have it.”

“She’s telling the truth, you know. No point in lying about something like this.” This voice was a different one. It came from a small woman with white hair and an irregular line of dark plum pink running across the back of their head. 

 “Pity. Because if you did have it, we might’ve come to some sort of... understanding.”

“Funny thing, though. I hear that Captain Gojou, your kind-hearted protector, might’ve had something to do with your mother’s... untimely end.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, just rumors. But if you’re curious—really curious—you could always find out for yourself. All it would take is a little favor. Get us that map from Gojou, and we’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“I... I don’t know.”

Captain Gojou was crazy, but he wasn’t that crazy.

“Well, take your time. But don’t take too long. You wouldn’t want the truth slipping through your fingers, now would you?”

“I’ll think about it,” you muttered, trying to buy yourself some time.

“Good girl,” Sukuna purred, his grin widening. “We’ll be waiting.”

You returned home clutching the herbs your father requested. The sky had darkened as the last rays of daylight turned into twilight. Your father sat in his chair by the window, the evening light casting shadows across his face.

“Got what you asked for,”  you said quietly, setting the herbs down on the table.

He gave you a small nod, but his gaze lingered on you longer than usual. He could sense something was wrong since he had always been able to read you like an open book.

“What’s on your mind, love?” he asked gently, leaning forward with concern etched into his features.

You hesitated, unsure of how to begin. “Dad,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if I told you... I could find out who killed Mom?”

The words hung in the air between the two of you, and for a moment, there was only silence. “What are you talking about?”

“I... I ran into someone at the market today. They said they knew... who might be behind it. But they need a favor.”

Your father’s brows furrowed. “Who are these people? What favor?”

“They want something from Captain Gojou. They want me to... get it for them. In exchange, they’ll tell me what happened to Mom.”

“And you believe them?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But if there’s even a chance... don’t you want to know the truth?”

His jaw tightened, and you thought he might refuse. But then, he sighed heavily, the years of pain and grief evident in the lines of his face. “I’ve spent fourteen years wondering who took her from us,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “If there’s a chance, even a small one, to finally get justice… then you do it. Find out who killed her.”

“You... you’re okay with me going back?”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment. Whoever killed your mother... I’ll see to it they pay.”

The sky was pitch black by the time you slipped into bed. You thought back to the conversation with your father. Although you had made your decision, it wasn’t any less scary. Your heart pounded in your chest as you lay in your childhood bedroom, staring up at the ceiling.

That’s when you heard the faint sound of footsteps outside your window. You sat up and looked towards the window, but you saw nothing, so you decided to ignore it, thinking it was a drunk passerby trying to get home. All of a sudden, you heard a knock at the window, and you saw a figure standing there. Before you could react, your small window was yanked open.

Of fucking course he’s here.

Gojou stood in the window frame, his white hair almost glowing in the dim moonlight.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered.

He hopped inside before closing the window behind him.  “I told you it was dangerous to be here. And yet, here you are.”

“I’m with my father, Gojou. I’m perfectly fine.”

“You think you’re safe because you’re in your childhood home?” His voice was laced with irritation. “Do you have any idea who’s been hanging around this town?”

Your stomach dropped. He knew about the strange man down by the marketplace. Though you never managed to catch his name.

“I... I can handle myself.”

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“Yeah, that’s what you’ve been telling me since day one,” you muttered.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. And maybe I don’t. But I do know one thing—you’ve been lying to me.”

“What in God's name are you talking about?”

“I know you had something to do with my mother’s death,” you blurted out, the words spilling from your lips before you could stop them. 

“Your… mother?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

“Listen, sweetheart, I haven’t had anything to do with your mother’s death, so don’t get too excited. Besides, I’m only thirty-two. Who told you this information? Was it the man with pink hair you met in the market?”

“It’s none of your business. And since when have you cared who I meet? Last I checked, you could have given two shits about me?”

You were now weary of the information the strange man had given you. And doing the math, he would have only been eighteen years old at the time of your mother’s death. But still, the thought lingered in your mind.

“I should’ve known you’d get involved in something this stupid,” he muttered.

“Take me back.” 

Gojou’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Take me back to your crew. Let me come with you. I need to see this through.”

“You want to come back after everything? You just left like yesterday.”

“Yes. I can’t stay here. Not when there are so many questions. Maybe the treasure can help me find out the truth about my mother.”

Lies.

“Are you sure you’re not going to force me to take you back the moment something shitty happens?”

“No, you ass, my father asked me to find out what happened to her.”

“Fine. But don’t think for a second I’m letting you out of my sight.”

“Why would that be.”

“Because you have been talking to strange men, Y/N. I’m not stupid,” he sighed. “Be ready by dawn,” he muttered as he walked back over to the window. “We leave as soon as the tide is in.”

Satoru felt guilty. He felt guilty about his lack of self-control, guilty that he managed to drive the one person who seemed to care away. Guilty about the fact he might hurt you.

Satoru didn’t know why he behaved this way. It’s not that he wanted to behave this way towards you, but that's how it was. He didn't know why he felt inclined to treat you the way he did, and he kept telling himself that this was normal behavior. He didn’t want to admit it, but he really liked the kiss the two of you shared in the hotel room, and he wished to have more of them. But there was something that seemed to stop the two of you from seeing eye to eye, and it was that map.

But there was one more thing Satoru felt guilty about. And that was his dream about you. 

Satoru didn’t remember exactly how it started, but all he knew was that you were the last person supposed to be there. 

You looked the same as you did a few nights ago, but instead of being in your heavy skirts, you were in a sheer nightgown. You were lying down on his bed facing away from him, and from where he was standing, he could see the outline of your supple breasts and the gentle curve of your waist.

“Sweetheart?” he murmured as he walked closer to where you were lying. As he got closer, he could hear the soft sounds of your cries, and he noticed your shoulders were shaking. He sat down on his bed and put his hand on your shoulder to give you some kind of comfort. Something he couldn’t do to the real you.

“Why do you always hurt me? I’ve done nothing but help you,” you sniffed.

Satisfaction.

Satoru felt a deep satisfaction because you were crying over him.

He shouldn’t have felt that way, but seeing your tears made him feel like he was in control. Just how he liked it. You turned around to face him, and he could see your teary-eyed expression in the candlelight. It made him happy that you suffered all because you liked him.

“You look so pretty when you cry,” he murmured as he stroked your tear-stained cheek.

The dream version of you stared up at him, seemingly analyzing every detail of him with your glossy eyes. You watched as Gojou took off his boots and made his way up his bed to rest his back against the headboard. He gripped your waist and lifted you from where you were sitting to sit on his lap.

“What are you doing in my chambers sitting half-naked and crying, sweetheart?”

“My best wasn’t as comfortable as yours,” you shrugged, ignoring the crying and half-naked part.

“Your bed wasn’t as comfortable as mine? Well, we can’t have that, can we, baby?”

You shook your head, docile like a rabbit. 

As soon as you sat in his lap, you immediately connected your lips with a soft gesture as he tasted the salt from your tears.

Gojou kissed you passionately as his large hand caressed your face, moving down from your cheeks to your collarbones and back, and finally, his hands rested on your backside. You sighed, leaning into the kiss, desperate to feel the warmth of his body, feeling the familiar heat pool in his belly.

“What do you want me to do, Sweetheart,” Gojou asked, breaking the kiss.

You were silent for a moment before responding, “I want you to fuck me.”

He groaned at your response and flipped the two of you over so that he was on top. You could feel his weight as he ground his hips against the flimsy piece of underwear you wore. You could feel his hardening cock rubbing against your clothed pussy and your inner thigh. He wanted to rip that sheer nightgown off your body and bury his head between your thighs, wondering how you would taste.

“I wanna feel your cock inside me. Please?” you moaned out.

You looked so pretty, so beautiful beneath him. Gojou sat up and made work untying his linen shirt and ridding himself of his breeches, which were practically useless by this point. You helped him untie his top, seemingly eager to be closer to him. When he managed to undo the last string, he pulled down his shorts, revealing his cock that slapped against his stomach.

Fuck he’s so hard, and he’s only dreaming.

There was only one problem: you still had your clothes on, or what could be considered clothes, considering it left nothing to the imagination. Gojou began dragging his fingers along the arousal-soaked underwear you wore. You shuddered when he slipped his hand inside your underwear, gliding his fingers through your soaked folds, almost dipping inside your hole but going back to your clit.

A small moan escaped you, and Gojou decided he wanted to see more, even if it was just a dream. He removed his hand from your underwear, hooked it onto the bands, and muttered, "Lift your hips" to you before removing your underwear. You closed your legs, embarrassed of the mess between your thighs and how wet you were for a man who made you cry and treated you like you were nothing. He pried your legs apart and was greeted by a small patch of hair, and he could see your hole clenching, desperate to be filled.

“Why are you so shy, hm?” He breathed. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Gojou focused his attention back on your neck, feathering soft kisses around the skin before moving to your breasts, lowering the straps of your thin chemise. You were arching your back as he descended further in further until he was face to face with your sopping cunt. He was quick to begin lapping at the entrance with his tongue until you were quietly moaning his name. “S-Satoru!”

It was like music to his ears and Satoru thought he could stay in this dream forever. 

“You taste so sweet, sweetheart. I could stay here forever,” he murmured, circling your sensitive bud before looking back at your slit, slightly spreading them apart to look at the mess you made. Satoru took one last look before grabbing his erect manhood and lining it up with your core, sliding his tip against your core to gather some of your arousal before sliding himself in. But before he could do anything his dream started becoming blurry and soon enough, he realized he was going to wake up.

All of a sudden, the world around him began to grow fuzzy, like a painting that was smeared by careless hands. Satoru blinked, trying to clear his vision, but it was ultimately useless. The edges of everything became clearer, and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a cold sweat on his bed in his captain’s chambers.

Satoru clenched his jaw, shaking his head to try and rid the images of his indecent dream. It was just a dream. Though his mind kept drifting back to the way your lips had lingered on his, and the heat of your body that was pressed against his in ways that felt all too real. It that dream he could touch you without restraint, kiss you without hesitation, and indulge in the desire he fought so hard to ignore.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. The frustration was mounting, but there was something else. A wet patch on his breeches. He glanced down and a wave of embarrassment swept over him, realizing how deep his dream had sunk his claws into him.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to push down the storm of emotions, but it was no use. Even here in the safety of his chambers, he couldn’t escape you.

Satoru stared out the small window of his quarters, the moonlight coming through the window, spilling in like silver threads. Why you? Why now? Of all the things haunting his subconscious, why was it you that left him so unhinged?

He needed control—over himself and his thoughts, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to let you go.

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He remembered the exact moment in excruciating detail as well, like how he had turned a little scared at the unfamiliar sensation of a racing heartbeat. When pressing his hand to his chest, he felt the rapid thumping. He quickly realised it was caused by the sight of you when it happened every time he spotted you.

His dad would tease him whenever he caught Kento sitting in the windowsill, chubby cheeks resting on his forearms as he gazed lovingly towards the little girl playing in her front yard a few houses down. “I’m sure she would love to play with you.” His face would turn bright crimson, a colour that had become all too common in the Nanami household whenever you were brought up, before an embarrassed Kento would stomp up to his room.

He didn’t learn your name until the first day of school — your parents had arranged for the two of you to walk to school together. He had been over the moon when he heard the news, pure excitement filling his body to the point where he could not sit still. But the moment he was stood in front of you, your voice sweet as honey when introducing yourself, his throat dried out and he turned tongue tied. His mom placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing his feet back on the ground, “Kento,” he croaked weakly before disappearing into his jacket.

With small feet carrying you to and from school, you tried to force a conversation out of him but to no prevail. He remained shy and quiet, eventually resulting in a statement that had saddened him more than he could have anticipated; “you don’t talk much, do you?”

There had been no ill intent in your words, but it had Kento distance himself from you. What was supposed to blossom into a friendship (and maybe even more with time), only simmered down to him consistently trialing five steps behind you on the path to school that became all too bleak when it hadn’t turned out how he had imagined it.

His infatuation didn’t seem to disappear anytime soon either. If anything, now having the opportunity to observe you in closer proximity only deepened his feelings. He now got to witness the outgoing and bubbly personality that was wrapped in your cute exterior, exceeding all his expectations of what he had imagined you would be like — fascinated by how you seemed to excel in aspects where he lacked.

And the more time that passed, it seemed the day he would find the courage to catch up and walk along side you traveled further out of his reach.

He continued to admire from afar, watching as you earned yourselves new friendships as easily as putting your shoes on in the morning. Kento wasn’t the only one drawn to your outgoing personality and charming smile, his heart breaking a little when you formed a tight knit friend group and he didn’t get to be a part of it.

That’s how it went. Kento sort of just blended into the background, never making a number of himself. He was nearly certain no one really knew he even existed at all (except the teachers, who absolutely adored him). Day after day, he sat by himself with a book in his hands, only ever looking up to admire you for a few seconds as you would play with your friends.

However, he preferred the quiet life in school more than what it evolved into as second grade rolled around.

During recess, he would sit with his book, same as always, counting the minutes until school was over so he would walk those five familiar steps behind you — that’s when two third graders had approached him, their intention clear as day.

Their antics continued for two weeks — until what he thought was the voice of an angel interrupted.

“Hi there.”

Kento would recognise that voice anywhere, turning towards the source to see you, huge grin plastered on your face, both hands behind your back as you stared down the two third graders.

“What’s going on here?” You asked in such a sweet and innocent tone, but all three of the boys could see there was something borderline unfriendly in your eyes that was not present in your words.

“Doesn’t concern you,” one of the mean kids bit back.

“Hmm,” you hummed, pressing your lips together before shifting to a serious tone. “I think it does, because from over there-“ you pointed in the direction of where you had stood moments earlier, “it looked like you were picking on my friend.”

Friend? Had he heard you right?

Before they could retaliate, you had already opened your mouth again, “I’ll scream! The adults will come and you’ll be in biiiig trouble!” Your tone had been so cheerful, but that same threatening intent lingered in your gaze — a look one did not want to receive from a stubborn, little seven year old.

It seemed like your scare tactic worked, because after grumbling to themselves for a few seconds, they shuffled away with their tails between their legs. And once they were far enough away not to be a bother anymore, you squatted down on the gravel beside Kento, wrapping your arms around your legs.

“You okay, Kento?” Completely transformed, not a hint of your malice present any longer, just soft and genuine concern when speaking his name.

He blinked a few times, using the back of his hand to dry the few tears that had watered up in the corner of his eyes before he answered you. “‘M fine,” he sniffled, then daring to look you in the eyes to mutter a shy “thank you.”

“Anytime.”

You couldn’t explain why you had decided to interfere — because labelling Kento a friend wasn’t entirely true. The boy had barely said a word to you for the year you had known him, but you had just been filled with anger when you witnessed the older kids choose to pick on him. He did not have a mean bone in his body. And maybe somewhere along the line, you had gained a soft spot for the reserved kid, having not been able to stop glancing over your shoulder from time to time when you walked to and from school, just to make sure he was still there.

Never had Kento imagined that the taunting from his upperclassman would be his biggest blessing to date. He no longer sat alone during lunch, but instead accepted your invite to eat with you and your little clique.

And finally your friendship with Kento had the opportunity to grow.

Thanks to you, school had become a lot more enjoyable for him after that. The walks to and from school was no longer spent with an awkward distance, now matching your pace as you both indulged in small talk from the moment you left school until he left you at your door.

He knew he should have been satisfied, and in one way he was. He was finally allowed to call you his friend after all, but during school hours, you usually hung out the entire group. And on your spare time, you had a tendency to reserve your time just for the girls. So while he wished for more, he continued to shoot longing, and not so subtle, gazes across the table.

It abruptly changed when you were thirteen, walking home from school like any other day, when your blunt question had cut through the conversation.

“Hey, you want to go to the movies with me?”

“What?” Kento’s thirteen year old brain had not been able to comprehend the question, stopping dead in his tracks to stare at you with big eyes, swallowing the massive lump in his throat. Had you just asked him on a date?

You stopped when you noticed he did, staring right back at him like this wasn’t a big deal. “None of the girls were interested, and you’re the only boy in our group I can tolerate without any of the girls,” you rolled your eyes. You had turned a little feisty when entering your teens.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, drawing his lips into an awkward line, hoping he could play it off as a smile.

Your deadpanned expression immediately twisted into one of pure joy. “Great!”

Kento had stood in front of his mirror all afternoon, using both his hands to smoothen the crinkles of his shirt, treating it very much like a date. He didn’t even realise how long he had been stressing in his room until his mom came knocking, telling him you were waiting outside.

He had been a little disappointed when he saw you, because it became very evident you did not consider it a date. Wearing the same outfit you had worn to school that day, resting on the handlebars of your bike. “C’mon, we need to get popcorn before the movie starts,” you nagged, just the tiniest bit annoyed.

When stood in the kiosk, he had offered to pay for the popcorn, like the good, little gentleman he had been raised to be. “Oh, no need. Mom gave me money to pay for it,” you said cheerfully with a shrug and a smile. “Thanks, though.”

The movie couldn’t hold Kento’s attention, even if he wanted to, because for the whole ninety minutes you had your knee rested against his. The sensation of the shy touch of your leg had his heart beat so loud against his ribcage, he was scared you might turn to him and tell it to shush so you could hear the movie.

It wasn’t much, but the pressing feeling was definitely prominent enough that you had to be aware of it too. And in his mind, it seemed only logical you kept your leg still against his because you wanted it to touch him. But whenever he flickered his eyes over to you, you seemed utterly unbothered, attention fixated on the screen as your hand continued to grab popcorn from the bucket.

He tried to keep his breath even, letting his tension spill out by clenching and unclenching his fists. He was so determined to sit completely still, scared the tiniest flinch would cause you to shift your leg away from him.

Trips to the movies, just in each other’s company, became a regular occurrence after that. And about half of the time, you let him pay… only because you paid the other half, but he let himself wallow in the idea that he was treating you for the evening.

He was in high school when one of your friends had asked about it. “What’s really going on there, Kento?”

He had immediately decided to play dumb. Not because he was embarrassed, but if there was even the slightest chance it would feed them material they could use to make you uncomfortable, he wanted to avoid it. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, man,” he laughed mockingly. “You and her,” nodding towards where you stood with your girlfriends in the cafeteria line. “The two of you hang out with each other more than us these days.”

“I don’t know, we’re friends?” Kento shrugged, almost certain he was able to play it off as casual.

“Friends? Right, friends who constantly go on movie dates together.”

“They’re not dates,” was all he had been able to say to defend himself, feeling his cheeks grow hot like they had done when he was younger.

They had all chucked at him then. “Yeah, whatever man. Congratulations bagging the prettiest girl in school,” was the last thing that was said before you and the rest of the girls joined their table. You sat down beside Kento, like always.

Carefully, you had nudged his arm to get his attention. “You okay?” You asked quietly so only he could hear.

He gave you a weak but genuine smile. “Yes, just lost in thought is all.” You smiled back at him, making his heart skip a beat.

You don’t remember when it changed for you. If it had been a gradual thing, or if you had just woken up one day with this feeling — but something was definitely different.

The realisation had hit you mid sentence. Rambling on about some meaningless topic, like you always did, and suddenly you noticed the way he was looking at you.

He was listening so intently, not missing a single word coming from your mouth, a faint smile stamped at the corner of his lips and a tenderness in his eyes you hadn’t really noticed before. You only managed to snap out of it when he spoke your name.

“Am I losing you by not talking?” He teased before taking a sip out of his coffee.

“Shit,” you muttered, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “I just remembered this group assignment I have due tomorrow.” A lie — and an obvious one at that. But Kento didn’t get a moment to ask any follow-up questions before you had gathered your stuff and rushed to say goodbye, leaving him alone in the cafe.

For the entire walk home, you thought about Kento, now suddenly in a new light, reflecting over the entirety of your friendship.

You became aware of how he always seemed to prioritise you in the group without hesitation. You had just brushed it off, assuming he felt indebted to you for coming to his rescue when you were seven. But you realised now how ridiculous that sounded.

You thought of all the times he had come running when you had asked for him. Whether it was after a fight with one of your girlfriends, or a date that had gone horribly wrong, he dropped everything to be by your side.

You realised now why you always caught yourself answering with a frown when girls came to ask you about him. As you had gotten older, he had definitely grown into his looks, a subtle kind of handsome that snuck up on you.

When you got home, you had pulled out your phone to send a text to apologise for bailing so abruptly. But you typed and deleted the message twenty times over, anxiety you had never felt about him before overwhelming you. In the end, you ended up not sending anything at all, feeling like no words sufficed.

And the next time you met, you acted as if nothing had happened, and he just went along with it.

You tried desperately to act as if nothing had changed, beyond terrified you would scare him off or make him uncomfortable if he picked up on your new and revolutionary feelings for him. If there was one thing you were absolute certain about, it was that you would never do anything to jeopardise the friendship you had with him. There was no competition of what person in your life you cherished the most; Kento Nanami. You’d be the earth's biggest fool to gamble that away for anything.

When you were 16, you nearly caved.

In your desperate attempt of keeping things normal, you had continued your meaningless escapades — which meant going on terrible dates with even more terrible guys — turns out teenage boys are just assholes by default.

“It’s their loss,” Kento cooed in a warm tone, sitting beside you on your bed with a comforting arm around your shoulders.

In all honesty, you didn’t even care all that much about the date. You couldn’t even remember the guy’s name. No, your mind was way more interested in how his strong hand cupped your arm so perfectly.

You turned to look at him, faces closer than ever before. He happily held your gaze — you were just hoping he was able to read the messages it conveyed.

Tell me to stop seeing these guys, and I’ll stop.

Tell me you want me the way I want you.

Tell me it’s you I’m meant to be with.

“You’ll find someone worthy of you eventually.”

Your heart sunk, having built up your own expectations based on how his eyes had roamed your face as if he truly desired you. Maybe this was all in your head.

It wasn’t.

But Kento, much like you, didn’t want to lose you over anything. Confessing risked the relationship he already had with you. He would rather have you as a friend, than not have you in his life at all.

Not long after that, you both joined Jujutsu tech. Slowly but surely, you slipped away from your childhood group — him more than you. You tried your very best to stay in touch, though your new schedule made that hard.

With these new threats looming around you, neither of you could help how your friendship — or whatever you would call what was going on between you — continued to grow deeper. More serious. It went unsaid by the both of you, but there was just a mutual understanding that it was the logical development when there was the slightest possibility of it ending all too soon.

Still neither of you confessed.

You fell into routines, so accustomed to seeing him every minute of every day, your first instinct when returning from a mission was to find him.

As expected, Kento heard the three soft knocks he knew all too well at this point, before you squeezed through his door. With a deep exhale, you fell back on his bed, while he sat in his desk chair, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m exhausted.”

“Did you just get back?” His muscles were a little tense, like they always where whenever you had to go on a mission without him, his eyes searching every inch of you to see if there were any visible injuries he had to worry about.

“Little over an hour ago. Had to escape Gojo talking my ear off about his own mission.”

Kento observed how the corner of your lips tugged upwards in a tired smile, your chest vibrating with a soft chuckle.

He was always happy to see you come back unharmed, but he hated the exhaustion that rested in your joints — and it filled him with an unexplainable urge to help you somehow.

He imagined guiding you to lay on your stomach, placing his legs on each side of you and slowly soothing your muscles, rubbing caring motions along the curves of your body to fill it with the relaxation you deserved — but he couldn’t. It would definitely cross a line, too intimate for just friends.

“Glad you’re back,” he said almost in a whisper.

“Me too.” He could barely hear you, the mission slowly catching up with your energy as well, sensing on your breathing that you weren’t too far from falling asleep.

The silence that surrounded you was comfortable. You had grown so accustomed to each other’s presence, any awkwardness had ceased to exist. Nevertheless, Kento didn’t quite know what to do with himself, just looking at you sprawled out on his bed, a scene he would like to see every night.

“Kento?” Your voice was so soft.

“Yes?”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

He heard the slight hesitation in your voice before you expressed your request. Raising up his neck and face was a burning heat, his breathing coming out shallow as he didn’t quite know what to say.

Being a cautious man, he thought of every possible outcome.

It was prohibited, so he should decline. But he would hate himself forever if he simply sent you away because of the school’s outdated rules — he also knew he would regret it until his heart stopped beating.

So having you stay here was the only reasonable outcome — but then what? He supposed he would end up sleeping on the floor, like the gentleman he was. He would at least never assume he could sleep next to you, and he would not be as vulgar to ask.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Of course. I’ll just-“

“Kento,” you said his name again, just as soft as always.

“Yeah?”

“There’s room for both of us on the bed.”

He had to swallow the massive lump that felt as if it was suffocating him. It at least stopped any further words to come out of his mouth. He slowly raised from the chair, floorboards creaking as he stepped over.

With his eyes locked on you, seemingly so calm with your eyes closed, he positioned himself beside you so he was facing you.

Goosebumps prickled up his arm when he felt your breath fan against his face, and he wondered how you managed to keep it in such an even rhythm. Didn’t this closeness send lightning through your body like it did for him, temptation threatening the act of finally crossing the line?

There was a crease between your eyebrows that seemed unintentional, like the events of the day had just planted themselves on your face and even your calm breathing couldn’t ease it. Against his better judgment, Kento’s urges steered his thumb towards your face, not reflecting over his action before he had ran his skin across the crinkle to smoothen the tension.

Shit, he thought to himself, certain you would open your mouth to tell him off — instead he saw how there had been a slight strain to your shoulders that was now released.

While he let his eyes roam your face, taking in every breathtaking aspect of your beauty, he felt a small spark of fear fill him at how right it all felt — lying next to you, so close he could feel the warmth radiate from your skin, his soft touch being able to bring rest to your body, the mere idea that he could envelop you in his arms if he wanted to.

“I’m happy you’re here with me,” your voice startled him a little, as he had assumed you had already fallen into the oblivion of sleep. “I’d never be able to navigate this world without you.”

“That’s not true.” Your eyes opened to meet his, catching his breath immediately, so stunningly deep he always felt himself fall into them. “You’ve always been the one looking out for me.”

You chuckled a little at that, endless memories of the two of you throughout childhood. “I guess in one way. But you’ve always kept me afloat.”

“You give yourself too little credit.” He had to stop himself from letting his fingers graze your cheek in the most tender caress. “You would have done just fine on your own.”

A small smile of flattery dared dance on your lips. “But I don’t want to.” It felt like a confession, unspoken feelings hidden within those words, begging for him to be able to deduce the true meaning. “Thinking of a life where you’re not at my side scares me.”

“Let’s never find out what that life is like.”

Kento would later eat those words.

Haibara’s death hit Kento the hardest. Numerous evenings were spent in the eerie silence of his cold dorm. When he cried, you held him. When he was trying to distract himself by reading, you sat and watched him, keeping him company. When he went the entire night without sparing you the slightest gaze, you knew you had overstayed your welcome, leaving him to be alone for a night.

“I don’t think I will continue to be a sorcerer.”

That was the first thing he said that hadn’t been a complete necessity, and it sent a spike of ice down your spine, not daring to understand his statement right away.

“Oh,” was the only thing you could think of to respond that did not entertain his idea.

His eyes met yours, the eye contact more intense than it had been for days, realising just how much you had missed having his kind eyes directed at you. Seemed like he felt it too, as the smallest gasp slipped out of him.

“I mean it.”

The tears instantly burned in your eyes, blinking them away before they had the chance to come running. “That's what scares me,” your voice betrayed you as the usual confidence came out cracked.

He didn’t push it any further, reading you as an open book — you knew he was telling the truth, but refused to acknowledge it. It was like if you ignored his statement, it would somehow end differently.

Luckily, after that night, Kento started to somewhat fall back to his old self. His smile started to return, it was easier to hold a conversation with him, which you obviously appreciated — however, he had planted a fear in you that had taken your body hostage.

You abandoned any sense of boundaries entirely, hanging onto his arm at all times. It was only when you were physically aware of his frame you were able to cling onto a string of peace. Feeling his body glued at your side only served as a confirmation that he was still here, and as long as you held on he couldn’t go anywhere. He couldn’t leave.

And whenever you had to pry yourself off of him to tend to your responsibilities where he wasn’t assigned, you were constantly living in a state of anxiety. Foot tapping against the floor, picking at your skin, petrified you would end up returning to see his room stripped of any signs of life — that he would have finally done the thing he said he would do, and part with the Jujutsu world.

Every time you returned, the sweetest sensation of relief washed over you, tears welling up immediately when he always stood ready to greet you. “Hey you,” he said softly, pulling you into his arms, holding you tight until he could physically feel your body let go of the stress that had tainted every muscle, every joint, for the entire time you had been separated.

But graduation day came and time was up.

You had held onto hope he would eventually change his mind, that it was only the initial grief that had weighed heavy on his conscience. But you were now standing in his bare room, everything packed into cardboard boxes. Of course it had only been a childish dream to think he would stay — there was no changing his mind.

“I really am sorry.” He was so earnest, like always, making it hard to be mad at him even though you so desperately wanted to. He genuinely had so much compassion, his hands stroking your arms in an attempt to calm the bouncing of your shoulders that followed the frantic rhythm of your sobs.

“I just don’t understand why?” You continued to sob, sentence coming out in sad intervals as you heaved for air.

“This isn’t right. It’s not right of them to expect us to be okay with watching our partners lay down their lives like this.”

You wanted so badly to scream at him, bang your fists against his chest before clasping onto his shirt so he wouldn’t even have the opportunity to leave. You knew it was unwarranted for you to feel that way, but the fact that he was following through with his stunt felt like a betrayal.

“You said we weren’t going to find out what this would be like.”

His heart shattered. Looking into your doe eyes, tainted red with sorrow as the sentence laced with innocence sent him back to every fragile evening throughout your journey together he had spent comforting you. How many tears he had dried, happily so? But this time it was his doing — him who brought you to a state of despair so grave you couldn’t breathe, and he knew this time he wouldn’t be able to comfort you.

Waiting for his next words were torture, time at a standstill watching his mouth open and close while he constructed the sentence in his mind. Though useless, the glimmer of hope refused to die out, begging for his surrender — you’re right, I’ll stay.

“I’m sorry.”

Another one of your earth shattering sobs came flying past your lips, stabbing him right in the heart that had only ever beaten for you.

Comforting you would always be second nature to him, which had his hands cup your face and pulling it closer to rest his forehead against yours. He wished, begged, for his touch to bring you comfort one last time before he left. But your body continued to shake. “It’ll be okay,” he tried to reassure you, spoken in a faint whisper. Repeating it over and over, waiting for his small affirmations to take affect — they never did.

Ask me to come with you.

Those six words played like a broken record in your mind, knowing you would pack your bags and abandon this god forsaken life at the drop of a hat if he just asked you to.

Come with me.

The request laid restless at the tip of his tongue, fighting every voice in him that was screaming at him to be selfish. But he couldn’t with you, never with you.

Unlike him, you had a purpose in this world — you were able to see the good in what you did, and he would never be able to forgive himself if he ripped you away from it no matter how much he wanted to.

There seemed like there was no limit to your tears. Shuddering against his touch, he sensed your body didn’t have much energy left to stand. He ended up leading the two of you to his bed, stripped bare to just the mattress, duvet folded at the end. Without any words spoken, you laid down in his arms, burying your face in his chest while the sobs continued to tumble out uncontrollably.

His strong arms locked around you, holding you as close to him as humanly possible, letting the illusion of him never disappearing from you live on for another night.

Eventually your sobs calmed down, only happening sporadically. The shaking stopped and he felt your breathing even out, telling him you had finally been able to let sleep consume you.

He couldn’t stop himself — placing a chaste kiss at the crown of your head, mumbling quiet and secret apologies before sleep caught him too.

According to Gojo, his departure had been quick. He hadn’t said much, just given them all a nod before grabbing his bags and disappearing.

You had decided against seeing him off. The two of you had said your goodbyes the night before in the solemn of his empty dorm. It had been wet, heartbreaking and nothing short of painful, but at least it had been private between the two of you. No one knew how your tears had soaked his shirt, or how your fists had created crinkles in the fabric while desperately holding onto him. No one knew how you had cried until the exhaustion knocked you out in his arms, so scared to wake up to face the new reality where Kento wasn’t at your immediate side like he had been since you were kids.

You couldn’t really remember what it was like to not have him there. Even before you had grown close, he had always lingered, the one thing in your life that had stayed consistent throughout it all was him.

The next weeks were absolutely torture, having to feed the people surrounding you endless lies of “I’m fine, really.” You were really just trying to prevent yourself from letting the reality set in properly. If that can of worms were to open again, you had no clue when or how you would be able to stop it. Last time you had still been able to seek some comfort against his warmth, only able to stop it because you practically passed out.

Not a single moment passed where he didn’t cross your mind, small things reminding you of him. All your little routines — for days you forgot to grab lunch because you were so used to him bringing it to you. For days you ended up with one towel too many, because you always brought an extra for him after training. Mundane things you had always taken for granted, gone in an instant.

Despite feeling a little betrayed, you couldn’t really blame him either. So you reached deep within yourself to try and stay positive. It wasn’t like he was gone gone, he had just retreated to a normal life.

You stayed in touch, sending regular updates about how you were getting by in the world of curses without him — lying of course. When he had left, he had taken some of the purpose you had in it all with him. But you didn’t want him to worry. You told him how you eventually started teaching at Jujutsu High alongside Gojo, and it felt nice to be responsible for the next generation of sorcerers.

And at first you received regular updates in return. He got himself a quaint little apartment that fitted his needs perfectly. You even got a few blurry photos of how he had tried to decorate it so it would feel more homely — you had cried when you received those.

You never called each other though. It seemed like there was a mutual understanding that it would be too unbearable to hear the voice of the other.

After a while, the updates slowly came to a halt. You kept on sending yours however, only for that little checkmark to appear and confirm he had read it. But no answer — you cried then too.

Had you said something or done something to make him cut the contact? You never managed to wrap your head around why he stopped showing you his new life.

Kento had never wanted to stop sending the messages — on the contrary. If anything, he had to stop himself from not telling you about every single minute of his day, even the most meaningless things, just as an excuse to talk to you.

But one day, thanks to a white haired little birdie, all consuming guilt had struck him. “She doesn’t say it, but she’s miserable.”

He held his breath, his fingers unintentionally clenching tighter around his phone. “She is?” His voice came out faint. He heard Gojo let out a deep sigh at the other end of the line.

“She tries. Very hard. I stopped asking a long time ago because she kept lying anyways.”

“Oh.” Kento had been a fool, believing your words when he had read them on his screen. When he hadn’t been able to hear the tone behind the statements, he had been able to convince himself they were genuine. But of course you were lying — he was, after all.

“But I think she really enjoys teaching,” Gojo said after a moment of sad silence, trying to fill the conversation with some optimism. “And the kids love her.”

“Yes, I can imagine as much,” a small smile appearing on his lips, picturing the scene of you with the young students.

“Look, I have to run, she’s waving me over. Should I-“

“No!” Kento rushed to cut him off. “No, don’t say anything. Please.”

He made up his mind then and there — he was not going to cause you any more pain. So he had to let you go entirely to allow you to move on. The way he was selfishly clinging onto the crumps you gave him seemed to do you no good, if the image Gojo painted was accurate.

So he stopped. Even though his fingers urged to reach out, he fought against it, for you.

You, however, could not hinder how your finger pressed the send button every now and then. The updates definitely became less frequent when he went radio silent, but you did not have the strength to stop. If you stopped… there was a fear he would never come back.

Kento was supposed to share his life with you.

He had believed so ever since he was a little kid, ogling you from afar before he even knew your name. The way you made his heart jump and pulse quicken had to be his body’s way of telling him you were meant to be with him, quickly growing addicted, dependent, on the reactions you created in him without trying.

But he had made the drastic choice of abandoning that feeling, convinced the alternative did you harm — and the mere concept of being the reason you even felt the faintest glimmer of discomfort was something he could not live with.

He welcomed the misery, a small price to pay for the belief that you were doing better now. He also thought he had good reason to believe that was the case.

The updates you sent him were few and far between these days, but it did paint a picture. You were rarely in the photos, but there was an energy present in the moments eternalised that seemed pleasant and positive. He imagined you had found your role, your place in life where you would get to fulfil your potential. And whether or not he was there was irrelevant.

He convinced himself his own insecurities were a reality to make it easier to bear.

Ever since childhood, you had been the headstrong one. The independent one. The brave one. It always lingered in the back of his mind whenever he just observed you in different scenarios — that it really didn’t matter if he was there or not, forever just an accessory to your life. He even feared he was holding you back somehow.

So it was only reasonable to think time away from him would have provided you with the playing field to develop into the best version of yourself… right?

Years went by and Kento’s pain didn’t ease. He missed you — every single day. And he kept living in that constant state of torture for you, until the fantasy shattered.

It was just another day, nothing out of the ordinary. Kento was going about his drowsy routines of stopping by the same bakery he did every morning before work. However today, he was nearly tackled by two kids, a boy and a girl about the age of six, once he entered the building.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” a grown woman rushed over to apologise as she brought the children back to their little table.

“It’s no problem,” he mumbled monotonously, eyes following them as they scattered back to their seats, where another woman sat.

A wave of nostalgia crashed over him, feeling like he had the privilege of looking back in time. The little boy resembled a young Kento Nanami, his blonde locks neatly styled, chubby, red cheeks and a baby-blue button up shirt — a rather mature attire for a six year old.

And the boy had his eyes glued on his friend, a girl the same age, very evidently the more outgoing out of the two. She was rambling enthusiastically, arms waving all over the place as he told her story down to the smallest detail, exhibiting the same spark you always had.

The boy kept a glare of pure awe as he followed her every word, seen so clearly in his eyes how much he admired her. And Kento knew how this story would continue — that night the boy would lay in his bed, the biggest smile on his face, unable to fall asleep as the day spent with his friend would play on repeat in his mind — much like Kento had spent countless nights when he was young.

It wasn’t until the girl behind the counter called for him he was able to pull his attention away from the all too familiar scene.

So polite, a sweet smile on her face as she served him the same thing he ordered every day. And then she asked how he was sleeping. It fascinated him, how this girl didn’t owe him anything, and had her own worries — like the little curse sat on her shoulder — and still showed concern for him.

He had noticed the curse before, but purposely never done anything about it. It wasn’t a proper threat, and it would be more of a hustle for him to deal with the reactions of ridding her of it than let it be. But now, having the innocent scene a few feet from him remind him of you, he quickly began to consider doing the girl a favour.

You would have exorcised it — without hesitation.

Not just that, you would probably give him crap for not exorcising it immediately. It wouldn't cost him anything to do it, so why wouldn’t he?

“Could you take a step forward, please?” Kento asked politely, the girl a little confused but doing as he said. He had your voice in the back of his mind while he easily exorcised the curse with one swift motion, the strain in her shoulder easing immediately.

“Huh? It’s lighter!” She exclaimed, rolling her arm around at the newfound relief.

“If anything still feels off, please go to the hospital,” he said with a small nod. He grabbed his food and headed for the exit, sparing one last glance at the table where the two kids sat, still deep in the conversation.

His lungs let out a deep, involuntary breath when the realisation dawned on him — he could no longer stay away, caving to his desires.

Maybe enough time had passed for it not to be considered selfish? If you had in fact found your place where you were content and comfortable, and meeting him again would be causal for you?

The questions kept circulating his mind as he pulled out his phone to dial the one person who would be able to set it all up at the blink of an eye.

His whole world stopped when he saw you, and he wondered how he had ever thought it a good idea to leave you — how could he possibly have survived all that time without you?

It was almost painful how his heart was clawing at the inside of his chest, desperate to be with you. It wasn’t until he felt the overwhelming pounding he realised his heart had not beat properly for the years he had spent away — meant to beat in unison with yours. His skin was turning cold as ice and the only way for it to regain its warmth was your touch, your soft embrace.

Kento hadn’t known what to expect when he saw you again, but he had certainly thought he would have more rational and coherent thoughts. Right now, it was all scrambling in his head and the only thing that appeared clearly in his mind was you, framed in the halo of your aura, taking his breath as way just as easily as when he was six.

With his body going numb, he observed you interact with Gojo and two kids he assumed were your students. You looked calm, a small smile decorating the plump line of your lips — it wasn’t as radiant as it used to be. In fact, your entire energy just seemed a little off. Maybe you had just gotten home from a mission, or it has been a hectic day in general.

Truth was not so mundane. You wished it was as simple as a long and tiring day. That would mean you could just jump in bed and sleep it off, ready to face a new day tomorrow.

But the day Kento left the jujutsu society behind, he unintentionally stole your spark with him.

You could never hate him for it though, he didn’t know. He only did what he felt like he needed to do, and you would be a terrible friend to stand in the way of that. But you had no control over how your mind decided to react.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder was something you had always heard growing up, and you had never really understood it — until faced with the situation yourself.

Not a day went by where you didn’t think of Kento. You thought of how his grin always grew slowly when watching you, eventually revealing the shy smile lines across his cheeks. The ghost of his touch, which was always dancing the line of appropriate or not, never leaving your mind. Sometimes you still felt the imprint of his arms around you.

“Don’t you guys listen to him for a second,” you chuckled, the tiniest hint of frustration in your voice. “Gojo doesn’t qualify as a responsible adult.”

His jaw fell to the ground in fake offence, eyebrows narrowing at the innocent laughs spilling from the students. “You were never this mean when we were younger,” he whined, folding his arms across his chest, looking like a stubborn child.

“That’s what you think,” you teased, nudging an elbow into his side. “You should have heard the things we said about you behind closed doors.”

His big hand came piercing through the air, pressing it against your face, gently shoving you away from the conversation. A lighthearted, but genuine, little laugh escaped you. “We don’t want to hear what you and your little boyfriend did in private,” Gojo rolled his eyes, pretending to gag at the made up memories.

Annoying as he was, Gojo had a way to actually make you forget the pain of it all for a few seconds. You would never tell him, obviously, that he managed to put the storm inside your head on hold for a second — he would rub it in your face every chance he got.

“Wait, senpai had a boyfriend when she attended here?” One of the students interjected and suddenly the mood of the conversation shifted. Gojo’s hand fell from your face before he shot you an apologetic smile.

For the most part, it was never a problem whenever Kento was brought up in the company of Gojo and Shoko. Everything was out in the open between the three of you, shared history taking away some of the pain. But whenever it slipped outside your little trio, it quickly became a sore topic.

Mouth opening and closing, trying to find the words to answer without having to give an explanation. Luckily, a painfully familiar voice called your name behind you, instantly sending a shiver down your spine.

All of you turned towards the voice, and you couldn’t help but let out an audible gasp at the beautiful image of your other half standing in front of you after all these years.

Your heart’s instinct steered your body, quickly stepping away from the group and latching your arms around Kento’s neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He didn’t hesitate to close his strong arms around your frame, fitting right into the slots they used to fill. His familiar scent filled your senses, memories flooding back in an instant.

“Huh, speak of the devil,” Gojo mumbled.

“Him? That was her boyfriend?”

Gojo quickly snapped out of it. “Let’s give them some privacy, shall we,” and started rushing away the nosy teens.

Kento’s grip loosened and you pulled away, but neither of you dared let your hands leave each other. Your own hands ended up cupping his face, forcing him to keep his eyes on you until it hit you he was actually with you again — he let his rest on your waist, feeling the restlessness in him by how strongly his palms were pressing against you.

He was here. He was actually here.

There was a deafening silence filling the space of your office. You could feel it in the tension that both of you wanted to say something, but there was an unspoken pressure of saying the right thing.

So you let your eyes roam him, taking in the differences in his appearance.

He was gorgeous, same subtle handsomeness as he had always possessed, but a new confidence displaying it. Everything about him was more defined, sharp features drawing attention to his face, his muscles filling his shirt in a way they never did before.

“So, you and Gojo seem to work well together,” he swallowed, causing embarrassment to flush your face when he pulled you from your blatant admiring.

“We’ve found a rhythm that works for us, I suppose,” you shrugged.

He shifted awkwardly in his seat, arms flexing as he crossed them in front of him. “That’s good. I’m glad.” His tone of his short statements seemed to imply otherwise.

“He’s surprisingly good at his job,” you laughed, “the kids like him.”

“Who would have thought,” there was a pull of his lips, like he tried to smile but it didn’t succeed entirely.

“Not me, that’s for sure. I don’t know, he just meets them were their at.” You really wanted to stop rambling about Gojo. It was so clearly just a desperate way for you to replace the quiet that plagued you without touching the elephant in the room. “Don’t get me wrong, they find him insufferable, but I think they secretly really like him. Much like the rest of us.”

“Sounds about right.”

You squinted at him, slowly growing somewhat antsy. “You’re not jealous of Gojo, are you?”

Of course you still saw right through him. He, who usually managed to hide his true feelings, would never be able to conceal them from you. And he was jealous, petrified that he had made the biggest mistake of his life and Gojo had ended up taking the place that was supposed to be for him only.

“Is there something to be jealous of?”

“You tell me.”

The tension was thick, nearly suffocating, years of yearning and pining fuelling the energy. The reunion only served as a dangerous spark that threatened to set the fuse ablaze at any second.

Why couldn’t he take the first step? He was the one who had showed up all of a sudden, and he still hadn’t given you any explanation. He owed you that much, right? But he kept letting his restlessness control him, one leg bouncing quietly against the floor, hearing how the cogs in his mind were turning.

“Why are you here?”

Your words were soft, but Kento knew you well enough to know the true feelings that lingered in the question.

“I’m coming back.”

“You’re coming back?” You weren’t able to withhold the bite that was slowly making its way into your tone.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

“Don’t do that,” your voice threatened to crack. “I don’t want that responsibility.”

He sighed deeply, unfolding his arms to rest his elbows on his spread knees. “That wasn’t my intention. I’m sorry.”

Always so polite. Always acknowledging his faults before they had the opportunity to grow. Always so damn righteous.

“What I meant to say is it looks like you’ve really managed to establish yourself here, and I wouldn’t want to come in and cause any discomfort by intruding what is essentially your space.”

The sound that escaped you next was a mixture between a flat laugh and a scoff, not entirely appreciating the way he was behaving. “Have we been apart so long you can’t talk to me like I’m your best friend?”

That had him look up at you, meeting your eyes instantly. You were sad, visible on your entire demeanour — maybe not to the average person looking, but he saw, still able to read you like an open book.

“Hope not,” he tried to smile, lips formed into a tight line that exposed how nervous he really was. His attention shifted to look at his fists folded together, words resting on his tongue, he just wanted to be sure it came out right. “I’ve missed you.” Silence. “There hasn’t been a day where you haven’t crossed my mind.”

“Sounds familiar.” There was no hiding the flush crawling up his neck and colouring the tips of his ears red at the sound of your confession.

“It was the thought of you that finally convinced me.”

“Why now?”

“Because enough time should have passed for you to thrive without me.”

“If that’s the case, you’ll have to keep waiting.”

You had him gagged, no clue how to respond. For some reason, he had refused to believe you were still hung up on him the way he was. There weren’t any reason for you to hold onto the idea of him — yet you had, for dear life.

Abruptly you stood up from your chair, hands running through your hair in frustration, trying to make sense of his sudden visit.

You stopped in your pacing, back faced him and hands on your hips — then he saw your shoulders begin to shake, followed by stifled sobs. These were the situations he always used to know what to do, moving on autopilot to bring you the comfort you needed.

Did his hands remember how to soothe you? Did his voice still know how to form the right words to say? Did his presence still know how to envelope you until you felt happy again? There was only one way to find out.

Quickly stepping over to you, his hands hovered over your shoulders for a second in fear. He swallowed his selfishness and let them land to settle the bouncing, leaning his head forward to rest it against the back of yours, the smell of your shampoo surrounding him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and it only seemed like his apology opened the valve, no longer able to choke your sobs. Your hands left your hips to cover your face, muffling the sadness tumbling out in one stream.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he continued to mutter, head moving to press it to the side of your face. One hand traveled across your collarbone, the other around your waist to pull you as close to him as possible, determined to hold you there until he was absolutely certain you were okay.

He would stand there the whole night if he needed to.

Slowly but surely, your sobs came to a stop, your trembling eventually easing against his body. But he didn’t loosen his grip, not until he felt you shift in his arms to face him.

Cry painted cheeks, delicate red rim around your eyes, glossy irises that stared right into the deepest parts of him that only you had access to.

Everything started to fall back into place, his big hand cupping your cheek as he stroked your hair out of your face. He let his eyes dart delicately across your face, taking in every single detail.

Then he let his longing get the best of him, thumb graciously tracing your bottom lip turned swollen from when you tried to swallow your sobs.

There was slight hesitation while he leaned forward, never having experienced time moving as slow as you waited for his lips to connect with yours. First, he let his nose brush against yours, testing the waters.

Please.

You felt his breath.

Don’t make me wait any longer.

Sparks.

Soft lips pressed against yours, moving tenderly in unison that sent intense sparks through your body from head to toe. The moment easily surpassed any of the fantasies you’d had of kissing him.

Needy fingers traveled up his broad chest before hooking your arms around his neck, pulling him closer — it still didn’t feel close enough.

Kento poured everything he had always wanted to say into the kiss — and he knew you understood. If he had learned anything from everything you had been through together, it was he could always trust you were able to understand him completely, even without anything being said.

When you pulled away you found yourself breathless. Meeting his eyes again, unexpected shyness you weren’t used to experience with Kento had you hide your face in his chest.

The roles had reversed, his warm chuckle serving as a comforting blanket. Oh, how you had missed that melody.

“Took you long enough,” you mumbled, hoping the teasing would have your normal confidence return.

His finger found your chin to tilt your head up, capturing your gaze. “Yeah, I should have done it ages ago.”

The previous sadness still lingered, and it was evident you still had a lot to talk about. But right now it was nice to just wallow in his presence again. It was way overdue, feeling like it should have been like this since forever.

“I really am sorry.”

“I think I can find it in myself to forgive you.” Your innocent jab was received with a dashing smile, tingles spreading throughout your limbs at the sight.

“Hope so, sweetheart,” he breathed quietly before he leaned in again.

They sat staring at each other, Kento with a raised eyebrow while a grumpy Gojo was positioned on the couch opposite him, legs and arms crossed in annoyance.

“You used to be nice.”

Kento scoffed at his colleague’s childish behaviour. “I still am, you’re just upset you’re not getting it your way.”

“But why?” Gojo cried dramatically.

“Why? What do you mean why? Because it’s not your wedding.”

“Were you always this boring?”

“Most definitely.”

“Will you guys please shut up?” You interrupted, unable to ignore them anymore. You had desperately tried to block them out as you were doing some paperwork you should have done ages ago.

“He started it!” Gojo pointed at Kento, which only had him roll his eyes.

“You know what,” you sighed as you gathered your stuff and raised from behind the desk. “It’s with a heavy heart I leave you, but I need to get this done by the end of the day.” You stopped behind Kento, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry, honey,” he said genuinely as he gazed up at you lovingly.

“I am not asking for much-“ Gojo continued to argue before you interrupted him.

“Will you pay for it?”

“Is that all it’ll take?” He beamed, and you nodded. “Of course! Done! How much do you need?”

“You’re too lenient when it comes to him,” Kento sighed.

“It’s not the craziest thing he could request. He’ll get his endless supply of sweets, and you won’t have to listen to his obnoxious nagging anymore.”

“I’m sitting right here.” Both you and Kento ignored him.

“I really have to get this work done though,” you sighed, hand squeezing his shoulder.

“See you at home?” His loving smile had you lean down to press your lips tenderly against his.

“See you at home.”

“I’ll have dinner ready.”

“God, I love you.”

Then he flashed you that smile — the smile which was reserved solely as a response whenever you said those three words he used to dream of hearing from you.

It was funny really, how after everything things would turn out exactly how he as always wanted them to. Despite the hopelessness he had felt and all the pain you had endured — both together and apart — would eventually lead up to the happy ending he had dreamed of since the young age of five.

He knew he would do it all over again, in every universe, if it ensured this outcome.

“I love you too.”

tags @sad-darksoul @toadtoru

an anon, i am so sorry if this ended up longer than you wanted it. idk what happened, bc it just kept on snowballing <3 however, i am very touched you wanted me to do this request. warms my heart. hope it turned out okay mwah also, if you've read my satoru childhood friends to lovers fic and see any similarities, no you don't comments and reblogs is much appreciated

Satoru hums, and you walk up behind him, taking a look at his computer. A rather beat-up Sims woman is walking around in a house, clearly pregnant. 

“I’m doing the one hundred baby challenge,” he states, and you nod your head, placing your hands on his shoulders. Satoru seems to melt into your touch, leaning back and resting his head on your stomach. 

“Which baby are you on?” you ask. 

“Twelve,” he replies, and you snort.

“How are you coming up with the names?” you ask, running your fingers through his hair, pulling his bangs out of his eyes. Satoru practically purrs at this, though his eyes are still trained on the screen in front of him. 

“That’s easy. I already have a list of names for our future children,” he replies, and you stop your motions for a second, holding back a smile, before Satoru nuzzles the back of his head against you like a cat, urging you to continue. 

“What are the names so far, then?” you ask, tracing your fingers along his undercut, and Satoru’s eyes flutter closed, white lashes fanning his face. 

“Hmmm… Winnifred, Archibald, Reginald—”

“You’re messing with me,” you interrupt, pulling at his hair slightly, and Satoru gasps in offence, turning his head around to look at you. 

“I am extremely serious about this, actually,” he says, before turning back to his screen. “Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go find a new baby daddy.”

You stay put, watching the scene unfold as he makes his sim run around and try to romance guys. 

Ever since Satoru decided to be Satoru and not The Strongest anymore, he has been trying out new hobbies. Things that Satoru likes, and not something he does out of necessity. 

He disliked gardening, saying that the plants were too particular. (“I gave it water so why is it still unhappy?”) He was good at tennis, but that got boring quickly, in his opinion. He played Pokemon Go for a week, then there was baking, and then reading, and now there’s The Sims. 

“How do you earn money?” you ask. 

“I run a sweatshop on the side.” 

“Right,” You lean down, kissing the crown of his head, before heading back towards your kitchen. 

“I’m gonna go make dinner, okay?”

Satoru looks over his shoulder, grinning at you. 

“Gimme a sec, then I’ll come help,” he replies, and you smile back at him. 

“You don’t have to,” you muse, though Satoru merely scoffs. If there’s one thing being Satoru has made him realize, it is that he likes you.

A lot.

And definitely more than any hobby he could ever find. So you’re crazy if you think he’s not gonna hang out with you at any chance he gets. Even if it means cutting the onions for you. 

It’s not long before he joins you in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around you as he kisses your neck. 

“Do you wanna play Dress to Impress after dinner?”

thank you for reading!

a little late but it's still monday where i live >:D

You’re a bit intimidated, but nevertheless, you decide that life is short and an opportunity is being placed on a gold plate in front of you. 

How you ended up here, you’re not entirely sure. 

Pushed against a wall in a dirty bathroom stall, the guy you now know as Choso, pinning you to it. Your legs are wrapped around him, the skirt you opted to wear bunched around your waist. 

Choso’s ridiculously thick cock is stretching you open, making you gasp each time he bottoms out. He’s got his face buried in the crook of your neck, biting down to muffle his moans and whimpers, his big hands wrapped around your thighs, occasionally groping your ass. Your shirt is pushed up, tits coated in salvia from his earlier abuse. 

You feel dizzy. You’d only taken two sips of your drink before Choso swept you away, but the way he’s fucking you against the bathroom stall, hips mean and slow against yours, is making you so unbelievably cockdrunk that it’s hard to think. 

Your phone is ringing continuously. It makes Choso chuckle as he detaches himself from your neck, taking a second to lick over the bite mark he’s left, before coming up and pressing his forehead against yours. 

“Someone’s popular, huh?” He huffs, and you whimper when his cock kisses your cervix, sending sparks through your body. You can't help but bring your hands to his hair, pulling his bangs out of his face and tugging on his ponytails.

“Ignore it,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him, but Choso teasingly pulls away, shaking his head. He slips a hand into your skirt pocket, your phone already dangerously close to slipping out due to the way your skirt has been pushed out of the way and checks your notifications. 

“Gig is starting soon,” he muses, putting your phone in the back pocket of his jeans that are only just pulled down enough to release his cock. “Your friends are scared you’ll miss it. We should hurry up.”

He pulls out, ignoring your whine as he helps you stand on shaky legs, turning you around and pushing you against the wall again. You brace yourself, turning your head to the side in an attempt to watch as he slips in again and begins to fuck you harder than before. 

Your eyes roll back immediately, his cock repeatedly bullying your sweet spot. Your knees buckle at the intense feeling, and you’re afraid you’d fall if it wasn’t for Choso’s hands gripping your hips. 

He kisses your nape, murmuring praises in your ear. Thanking you for letting him do this to you, for being so sweet to him. 

You’re even tighter from this angle and Choso thinks he might actually be seeing the white gates of heaven. Pleasure shoots down his spine, making him stutter out ragged moans as his fingers dig into your soft skin.

“Pretty little thing. Do you always let guys fuck you in dirty bathroom stalls like this?” He asks, and you shake your head, your hands searching for purchase on the wall as you pant. 

“No, usually don’t do this,” you gasp, shutting your eyes as you begin to feel that familiar buildup in your core. Your cunt flutters and twitches, sucking Choso’s cock in deeper, and he whimpers, watching where his pelvis collides with your ass, dick disappearing inside of you. 

“Fuck, baby. So it’s just me, then? I’m special?” He asks, kissing and licking your neck. You let out a strangled sound of agreement, and Choso’s hand snakes down to find your clit, rubbing messy circles in an attempt to make you come before he does. 

Your pretty little confession makes Choso whine. When he saw you waltzing up to the bar in your cute little outfit, he knew he had to have you. And the fact that you not only let him so easily but that he’s the only one you’ve done something like this with. Fucking a stranger in a bathroom? It makes his cock twitch and leak precum profusely.

You barely have time to register it before you reach that delicious peak, your mouth falling agape in a silent moan as your legs shake. Your cunt pulses, tightening around Choso’s cock, making his hips stutter as he bottoms out.

Choso keeps you upright, coming soon after you, filling the condom he reluctantly put on earlier.

You stay there for a while, both of you catching your breaths, before Choso pulls out, throwing the condom in the trash can beside the toilet, and tugging away his cock, zipping up his jeans. 

He puts your panties back in place, patting your clothed cunt three times, earning a whine from you, before pulling down your skirt again. You turn around and giggle slightly as you fix his hair.

“That was really nice,” Choso grins, leaning down and kissing each of your tits, as though he’s saying goodbye to those as well, before putting your shirt back in place. 

“Yeah, I liked it,” you reply, pulling him down by the neck to give you a proper kiss. He obliges immediately, cupping your face and sighing into your mouth. You hum and can’t help but grin when he pulls away, delighted at the evidence of your encounter on his kiss-bitten lips. 

“You have a really nice cock,” you add, and Choso snorts, coming down to give you one last peck, before putting your phone in your hand and unlocking the stall. 

“And your cunt is to die for,” he replies, winking at your flushed face. He goes to leave but comes back for a final kiss. “Now, wouldn’t wanna miss the performance,” he says, forcing himself to leave the stall for good. 

“Come find me after, okay?”

“After?” you ask, your brows knitting together. “Why after?” you add, but he’s already slipped out of the bathroom, leaving you alone in there.

The performance must have started, you think to yourself, because the bathroom is empty as you fix your hair in the mirror and apply a new layer of gloss to your lips. 

“Where were you?” one of your friends asks you when you manage to stumble back out and you shake your head. 

“I’ll tell you later.” 

The bar is filled by now, as you turn your head to look at the band playing. They’re good, you note, very good, as you take in the members, till your gaze lands on the bassist. 

He smiles at you, his grin widening when he sees your wide eyes and slightly agape mouth.

“The bassist is hot, right? His name is Choso,” your friend yells in your ear, and you nod.

“Yeah, he looks alright.”

thank you for reading!

You swallow nervously, but nevertheless, you crawl towards where he’s sitting on the sofa. Once you’re close enough, he grabs your forearms and pulls you into his lap, directly onto his length. He ignores your squeak of surprise as his hands settle on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your sides. 

You’re still pouting. Despite the fact that you came to him willingly, you can’t help but feel like you’ve been roped into this. Suguru hums in satisfaction, and a hand comes up to stroke your cheek. 

“There’s my girl,” he says, leaning in and kissing the corner of your lips. 

My girl. 

His words make heat pool in your belly, and you melt slightly, placing your hands on his shoulders. One of his hands squeeze your tit through your shirt, the other toys with the hem of your sleeping shorts. 

In Suguru’s opinion, you look like a perfect little gift for him. He’s been plotting this ever since you came down to the living room in that dangerously small pyjama, nipples poking through the fabric and shorts hugging your ass just right. He noticed Shoko and Satoru eyeing you as well. Satoru’s face grew positively flushed, and Shoko’s lips curled into a smile. Getting them to leave to get snacks wasn't very easy. 

But now you’re here. In his lap. Alone. 

And Suguru just wants to push those tiny shorts to the side and stretch you out on his cock till the only thing on your mind is his name. 

“We don’t have enough time,” you mumble, trying to keep up some resemblance of resistance. Suguru hums, eyes dropping down to your crotch as he begins to rub circles right over your clit. Your breath hitches, and your hands on his shoulders tighten their grip.

With his other hand he pulls up your shirt, watching your tits spill out. He cups one with his free hand, rolling his thumb over your nipple, while he leans down and sucks on the other.

“Suguru,”

The way you say his name is more of a moan than a warning. Your hips grind down on his thumb, chasing friction, and Suguru doesn’t even try to fight the smile making its way onto his face as he pulls back to watch your reactions. 

“We can be fast,” he says. You gasp when he pulls the crotch of your shorts to the side and runs his fingers through your folds. “You’ll be good for me, right?” he asks, and you nod, any coherent thoughts already turning blurry. 

“Say it,” Suguru says, and you pout when his fingers deftly avoid your clit, instead merely stroking you. 

“I’ll be good, Suguru. I promise,” you reply, and Suguru grins. His cock is hard and leaking in his boxers now, aching for attention. You eye the bulge and reach down to stroke him through his sweats. Suguru rewards you with a thumb on your clit, and begins rubbing methodic circles into the sensitive bud. You close your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder as you grind into his touch. 

Suguru decides to add a finger, pushing in and feeling your walls constrict around him. You let out a shaky breath before slipping your hand into his boxers and freeing his cock. You eye his length and a small whine leaves you at the sight. Suguru is thick. So thick and so big that the thought of having him inside you makes your cunt gush around Suguru’s hand. His tip is red and flushed, and pearly drops of precum collect around his head. 

You hesitate for a second, and Suguru notices. He kisses the crown of your head before gripping your hair with his free hand and pulling your head back to look at him. You gasp, and Suguru chuckles before giving you a chaste kiss on your lips. 

“Spit on it,” he says, and you do immediately. Suguru hums, rewarding you with another finger, and your hips stutter against his hands. His fingers are so long and thick, able to stretch you out much better than your own. 

You wrap a hand around his length, pumping him and mixing precum with spit, making the action smoother. Suguru groans and throws his head back as you use both hands to stroke him off. His ministrations on your cunt momentarily stop, and you watch his face contort in bliss before beginning to move your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers. 

Suguru’s brows knit together at the sight. Do you even know how sinful you look? What your actions do to him? Your eyes are lidded, glazed over as you pout at him, your expression begging him to ruin you. Your hands on his cock are clumsy, uncoordinated, yet he wouldn’t have it any other way. You squeeze his base, and Suguru has to stop himself from coming early.

You’re practically sin incarnate. 

“Look at you,” his voice is a mix of lust and disbelief. His eyes fall to where your hips are swirling in circles on his fingers. “You were so hesitant a second ago. What were your words? We can’t, Sugu,” his tone is teasing.

“Now you’re fucking yourself on my fingers like a slut.”

You whine, and Suguru decides to add another finger for good measure. The stretch burns a little and sparks fly through your body, making your toes curl. At this point you’re far too fucked out to answer his mocking words. 

“I haven’t even put my cock inside you, and you’re already cockdrunk.”

“Shut up.” Your retort comes out weak. You’ll never admit it, but you love it when Suguru is mean to you. It makes slick pool in your panties every time, this time being no exception as your cunt gushes, coating Suguru’s hand and fingers. You’re close.

So close. 

Suguru knows too. His lips curl into a smile, and he thrusts into your hand, hoping to reach his orgasm at the same time as you. You pant and lean in to kiss him. 

“I want to come,” you murmur, your lips ghosting over his.

“Yeah, pretty girl. You wanna come just from my fingers? Make a mess?” 

You glare at him, though Suguru hardly feels threatened. Your hands stroke his cock more diligently before one comes down to fondle his balls, and you run your thumb over his sensitive tip with the other. Suguru’s hips stutter, and his thigh twitches. He can practically taste his orgasm, and he can tell you're tethering on the edge too by the way your walls flutter around his fingers. 

“We’re back!”

You hear the front door open and Satoru’s sing-song voice as he rambles excitedly about the candy he chose. You fly away from Suguru’s lap, immediately tugging his cock into his boxers again, before jumping off his fingers and settling beside him. You adjust your clothes, pulling down your top and putting a blanket over you. 

Suguru blinks. He looks down at his now painful erection before adjusting himself, so it’s harder to tell. He silently thanks himself for wearing black sweats, hiding the wet patch from where you sat just moments ago. 

He looks up at you. You look dishevelled if anything, but you hide it well. His fingers are still covered in your slick, and he keeps eye contact with you as he brings them to his lips and sucks them clean. You gape and shift uncomfortably. He can tell you’re rubbing your thighs together, trying to soothe the ache that you’re no doubt feeling. 

Satoru walks into the living room, holding bags and more bags of sweets. Shoko strolls behind him. 

“I tried to stop him, but it was useless,” she says, motioning to the amount of candy in Satoru’s arms. You giggle, slightly more high-pitched than normal. 

“What movie are we watching?” Shoko asks, plopping down beside you. Satoru grabs the remote and starts talking about a movie he’s been wanting to watch. Suguru pulls at your blanket. You glare at him and Suguru pouts. 

“I’m cold,”

“Find your own blanket.”

“But you have one right there.” 

“There’s not enough for both of us!” You huff, and Suguru sighs, pretending to think. 

“Ah, I have a solution,” he says, promptly grabbing you and pulling you into his lap with your back against his chest. You squeal as Suguru wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you there, while the other adjusts the blanket to cover you. 

Neither Shoko nor Satoru bats an eye, instead arguing about the movie—Shoko thinks Satoru’s pick is stupid and Satoru thinks it’s perfect—leaving you at Suguru’s mercy. You can feel him throbbing against your ass as he pulls out his cock again and slips your pj to the side. You tense, but ease up when Suguru presses a kiss on your shoulder. 

“Relax,” he murmurs. “We’ll just sit like this,” he presses his cockhead against your cunt and pushes in slowly.

“You promised you’d be a good girl right?” You try to keep your face neutral, thankful that neither of your two friends is paying attention.

“Yeah,” you breathe, digging your nails into his arm around your waist. Soon, he’s buried to the hilt. You’re stuffed—stretched obscenely—pussy throbbing and leaking around his pulsing cock. 

Suguru kisses the crown of your head.

“There you go, baby,”

It takes everything in you to relax and rest your head on Suguru. Suguru wraps both arms around you, one slipping under your shirt to squeeze your tit before settling around your waist again. Satoru turns off the lights and starts the movie, all four pairs of eyes settling on the TV screen. 

You take a breath. It’s just two hours. Two hours sat on Suguru’s dizzyingly big cock. You can handle that.

Yeah.

For sure. 

thank you for reading!

🏷️ tags: @kisstoru @hiraethwrote @interconnectedmatrix @s-vila @gojouology

@kaskc @dearest-yeosang @sebastianlover

The Texas sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the sprawling landscape that seemed to stretch on for miles. The drive had been long, winding through open country and passing tall grass swaying in the light breeze. 

A sense of relief washed over you as the GPS announced your arrival. The place you were going to was around two and a half hours from Houston, in the middle of nowhere, with a small town thirty minutes away. As your car rolled to a stop at the entrance, you could hear the gravel crunch beneath the tires. In front of you stood a large archway made of weathered wood. The old archway had the words "Lone Star Ranch," painted in a dark blue that had faded over time. Beneath the arch, a long driveway stretched out before you that led to the heart of the ranch.

You rested your hands on the steering wheel and sat for a moment, deciding to take in the sight before you. The ranch was beautiful. Beyond the driveway you could see there were rolling hills dotted with cattle and trees that stretched into the distance. You thought the air here felt different—cleaner, somehow.

Taking a deep breath, you turned off the engine, allowing the sounds of the countryside to embrace you. The only sounds you could hear were the distant mooing of cattle and the faint chirping of birds. It was a far cry from the noisy city you had left behind not long ago. Truth be told, you were looking for a place to start over, and you thought this was the solution.

As you stepped out of the car, a realization dawned upon you: you had never lived on a ranch before, worked with animals, or dealt with the physical labor that ranch life demanded. You had briefly ridden horses when you were younger but that was… how many years ago? Over eighteen years ago? You were a city person through and through, and you were going to have to learn to live in the countryside.

The sun was warm against your skin as you stretched, trying to shake off the stiffness from the long drive. You walked around to the back of the car, popping the trunk and pulling out your bags. The sound of your shoes crunching against the gravel was the only noise that filled the air. You were truly out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but the ranch and its inhabitants for miles.

You slung a bag over your shoulder and turned around to take in the ranch. To your left was a large, two-story ranch house that overlooked the property. You could tell it was older, similar to the sign out front. The house had a wide front porch that wrapped around the entire house, supported by thick wooden beams. Further down the driveway, you could see several barns and stables; the red paint was faded and chipped, but it was well-maintained.

Just as you were about to close the trunk, a sound from off in the distance caught your attention. It was faint at first, but it grew louder with each passing second—a steady, rhythmic beat that seemed to echo across the open land. Curious, you turned toward the sound, squinting against the sun that hung low on the horizon.

That’s when you saw him.

A man on horseback was riding toward you. The horse's powerful legs were kicking up small clouds of dust with each stride. The man atop the horse sat tall in the saddle, his posture relaxed. As he drew closer, you could make out more details—his broad shoulders, his tanned skin that seemed to gleam in the sunlight, his unruly white hair, and the cowboy hat that shielded his eyes from the sun's glare.

He was shirtless, his torso exposed to the sun, revealing a well-defined physique. It was the kind of body that came from years of hard work and physical labor. A pair of worn jeans hung low on his hips, held up by a thick leather belt with a silver buckle that gleamed in the sunlight.

There was something magnetic about him as if there was something that demanded attention and respect. He oozed confidence, the kind that came from knowing exactly who you were and who you had the potential to be. As he approached where you were standing, he slowed the horse to a stop, his head tilted slightly as he judged you from beneath his hat.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice was smooth and carried a hint of amusement. “What do we have here?”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words, caught off guard by the almost lazy way he spoke. Though his voice was warm, like honey on a hot summer day.

“I’m here for the job,” you managed to say. “Is this Lone Star Ranch?”

A slow smile spread across his lips, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearm on the saddle horn as he looked you up and down. “Sure is,” he replied. “And you must be our new guest.”

The way he said “guest” made you feel like there was more to it than just a simple word. His voice was familiar, as if he already knew more about you than you were comfortable with. But before you could dwell on it, he continued, his smile widening.

“Name’s Satoru Gojo,” he said, swinging a leg over the horse and dismounting effortlessly. He landed lightly on his feet, standing a good head taller than you. “Owner of this fine establishment.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest. “Nice to meet you. I’m—”

“Hold that thought,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “No need for introductions just yet. We’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

He took a step closer to you, and you took a step back. You could see the details you had missed before: the way his muscles moved with each step, the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and how he seemed to enjoy your discomfort.

“Don’t look so tense,” he said, his tone light and teasing as he reached out and gave your shoulder a gentle pat. “I don’t bite. Not unless you ask nicely.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his words, and felt embarrassment creeping up your neck. This wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined your first meeting would go. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words seemed to get stuck in your throat.

Gojou seemed to sense your discomfort because he took a step back, giving you some space. “Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he said as his smile softened. “Welcome to Lone Star Ranch. You’re gonna love it here, I promise.”

“Thanks,” you managed to say. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Good to hear,” he said, turning to gesture toward the ranch house in the distance. “Why don’t you grab your stuff, and I’ll show you to your room? We’ll get you settled in, and then I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew.”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded, moving to the trunk of your car and pulling out your bags. As you did, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at Gojou, who had turned his attention back to his horse, murmuring something to the animal as he stroked its mane.

There was no denying that he was attractive in a rugged sort of way.

As you slung your bags over your shoulder, you turned back to Gojou, who was now waiting for you. “Ready?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Ready,” you replied, following him as he led the way toward the ranch house, your heart still pounding in your chest.

The walk to the ranch house was longer than you expected, giving you time to take in the surroundings. The ranch was even larger up close, with open spaces that seemed to go on forever. Gojou walked a few paces ahead of you, his long strides making it hard for you to keep up with him.

As the two of you got closer to the ranch, you could see the details that had been too far away to notice before. The wood on the house was old but well cared for, the front porch had rows of flowers along the trim of the railing, and a few rocking chairs that looked very inviting.

Gojou reached the front steps and turned to look at you. “So,” he said, resting a hand on the railing as he waited for you to catch up, “what brings you out here? Most people don’t come to Lone Star Ranch unless they’ve got a good reason.”

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal to the man you had just met not even ten minutes ago. Your past was something you’d hoped to leave behind, but it seemed that even out here, in the middle of nowhere, you couldn’t escape it. You forced a smile, hoping to deflect the question. “Just needed a change of scenery,” you said, your tone casual. “Figured this was as good a place as any.”

Gojou raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced by your answer, but he didn’t press you about it. Instead, he gave a small nod, as if accepting your response for now. “Well, you’ve definitely found a change of scenery,” he said, pushing open the front door and holding it open for you. “Come on in. I’ll show you around.”

When you stepped inside, you were immediately hit by the cool air and the smell of wood and leather. The interior of the house was just as rustic as the exterior, with hardwood floors, ceiling beams, and walls filled with old photographs. The furniture was a mix of older pieces that looked like they’d been there for years and newer additions that added a touch of modern comfort. It was the kind of place that felt lived in, like a home that had been passed down through generations.

Gojou led you through the house, pointing out the various rooms as you went. The kitchen was spacious, with a large wooden table in the center and windows that overlooked the back of the ranch. The living room was cozy, with a stone fireplace and shelves lined with books and trinkets. You passed by several other rooms—an office, a dining room, and what looked like a mudroom near the back door—before finally reaching a staircase that led to the second floor.

“Your room’s upstairs,” Gojou said, gesturing for you to follow him. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s comfortable enough. You’ll have plenty of privacy up there.”

You nodded, following him up the stairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under your weight. The second floor was just as charming as the first, with a long hallway that led to several bedrooms. Gojou stopped in front of one of the doors, pushing it open to reveal a small but cozy room. The bed was made up with a simple quilt, and a large window let in plenty of natural light. A dresser and a small desk completed the space, and there was a door on the far side that you assumed led to a closet.

“This is you,” Gojou said, stepping aside to let you enter. “Like I said, it’s not much, but it should suit your needs. There’s an attached bathroom too, so you won’t have to worry about sharing.”

“Thank you, it’s perfect.”

He gave you that easy smile again, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you. “Glad you think so. I’ll let you get settled in, and then we can go over the details of your job. There’s a lot to do around here, but I’m sure you’ll catch on quickly.”

As Gojou turned to leave, he paused in the doorway, glancing back at you. “Oh, and one more thing,” his tone more serious now. “This place… it’s special. The people, the land, everything about it. We take care of our own here, but that means we expect you to do the same. Understand?”

You met his gaze, understanding the weight of his words. This wasn’t just a job—it was a community, a way of life that you were being invited into. You nodded, “I understand.”

He studied you for a moment longer, then nodded, satisfied with your answer. “Good. I’ll see you downstairs when you’re ready.”

With that, he left, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone in your new room. You stood there for a moment, taking in the silence, the sense of stillness that seemed to permeate the air. This was it—the start of your new life, far away from everything you’d known before.

You walked over to the window, looking out at the view of the ranch below. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden light over the land, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. The sight was breathtaking, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of peace.

The night passed fairly quickly, though your sleep was interrupted by the sounds of the night—the creak of the old house settling, the distant howls of coyotes, and the occasional rustle of the wind against the windows. Despite the disturbances, you woke up bright and early, got dressed, and headed downstairs.

As you made your way to the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee greeted you like a warm hug. As you sipped your coffee, you couldn’t help but glance around the kitchen. It was spacious, with wooden cabinets, a large farmhouse sink, and a sturdy wooden table in the center. The walls were full of old photographs of the ranch in its earlier days, groups of cowboys standing proudly next to their horses. It was clear that the ranch had a history deeply intertwined with the land and the people who had worked it.

You were halfway through drinking your coffee when the back door creaked open, and a figure stepped into the kitchen. You turned to see a man about your age, tall and lean with dark hair that was pulled back into a bun. He was dressed in work clothes—a faded denim shirt and worn jeans, with a pair of sturdy boots that had seen better days. His expression was calm as he glanced at you with dark eyes.

“You must be the new hire,” he said, his voice low and even, with a slight drawl that was less pronounced than Gojou’s. “I’m Suguru Getou, the ranch hand. Gojou probably mentioned me.”

You nodded, feeling a little awkward under his gaze. “He did. It’s nice to meet you.”

Getou gave you a small nod and moved past you to pour himself a cup of coffee. He didn’t say anything else, and you took the opportunity to study him. You noticed the way he moved, his mannerisms, and his calloused hands from years of labor. There was something about him, a seriousness that contrasted with Gojou’s easygoing nature.

“You up for a tour?” Getou asked, breaking the silence as he turned to lean against the counter. “Might as well show you the ropes before Gojou starts piling on the work.”

You nodded, and without another word, he led you out of the kitchen and into the cool morning air. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting long shadows across the ranch. You followed Getou down the porch steps and onto the gravel path that led toward the barns, the sound of your footsteps mingling with the distant lowing of cattle and the soft noise of horses.

As you walked, Getou pointed out the various buildings and areas of the ranch, his explanations brief but informative. He showed you the stables, where the horses were kept, the barns where the cattle feed and equipment were stored, and the paddocks where the horses were turned out to graze.

“This here’s the main barn,” he said, stopping in front of a large structure. “You’ll spend a lot of time here, mucking stalls, feeding the horses, and helping with whatever else needs doing. It’s hard work, but it’s honest, and you’ll learn a lot if you’re willing to put in the effort.”

You nodded, looking around the barn. Its large wooden doors were open to reveal rows of stalls, each one occupied by a horse. Getou turned to you and gestured for you to follow him. He led you inside, and as you walked down the aisle, you couldn’t help but admire their sleek coats in the morning sunlight. They were beautiful creatures, each one unique in color and stature, their eyes calm and intelligent as they watched you pass. You could tell they were well cared for, their stalls clean and their coats brushed to a shine.

“Over here’s the tack room,” Getou continued, opening a door to reveal a small room lined with saddles, bridles, and other riding gear. “Everything you need for riding and working with the horses is in here. Make sure you put things back where you found them—Satoru’s pretty particular about that.”

You smiled at the thought of Gojou being particular about anything, but you nodded, committing the layout to memory. Getou didn’t seem to notice your amusement.

As Getou walked you through the basics, you noticed how he handled the horses with care and precision. He showed you how to properly secure a saddle, making sure it was snug but not too tight. He showed you how to brush down a horse after a ride, explaining that it was just as important as the ride itself—“Keeps ’em happy and healthy,” he said with a small smile.

He led you back out into the barn, where a few of the other ranch hands had already started their morning chores. They greeted Getou with nods and brief exchanges and you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place because you were a newcomer in a tightly-knit community.

"By the way," he added with a casual wave of his hand, "the blonde one is Nanami, the guy with the pink hair is Sukuna, and the one with the black hair is Toji. You'll see a woman with brown hair—her name is Shoko." He paused, then continued, "We've also got some youngsters around the farm. You'll run into them—Ino, Nobara, Megumi, Yuuji, Yuuta, Maki, and Mai. They're a lively fuckin' bunch."

As the morning went on, Getou continued to walk you through the basics of ranch work—mucking out stalls, feeding the horses, and preparing saddles for the day’s rides. The work was hard, the kind that left you sweaty and sore, but there was a sense of accomplishment that came from seeing the results of your effort.

Getou was a patient man, while he didn’t coddle you, he wasn’t harsh either, simply showing you what needed to be done and trusting you to do it. You appreciated his straightforward approach, and by the time the sun was high in the sky, you felt like you were beginning to get the hang of things.

It was late morning when Gojou finally made his appearance, strolling into the barn with his usual carefree attitude. He was dressed more appropriately today, though his shirt was unbuttoned halfway, exposing the tanned skin of his chest. He greeted Getou with a grin and a slap on the back.

“Well, look at you, already hard at work,” Gojou said, his tone light and teasing as he approached you. “I was half expecting you to be scared shitless, hiding in the house, hoping no one would notice.”

You rolled your eyes, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not afraid of a little hard work.”

Gojou laughed, clearly pleased by your response. “That’s what I like to hear. Keep that attitude, and you’ll do just fine around here.”

“How’s the newbie doing?” Gojou asked, leaning against the stall door.

“Not bad,” Getou replied. “She’s picking things up pretty quick.”

“Good, good,” Gojou said with a nod, turning back to you. “You keep up the good work, and we might just make a ranch hand out of you yet.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur, with Gojou and Getou both showing you the ropes and making sure you were settling in. By the time the sun began to set, you were exhausted, every muscle in your body aching from the day.

As you sat on the porch steps that evening and watched the sun dip below the horizon, you couldn’t help but feel that the ranch was starting to feel like home. For the first time in a long while, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

Later that evening, after dinner—a simple but hearty meal prepared by one of the other ranch hands, Sukuna—you found yourself alone in the barn, finishing up some of the chores that had been left for the end of the day. The barn was quiet now, the horses settled in their stalls, the air cool and tinged with the scent of hay and leather.

You were brushing down one of the horses, a gentle mare with a soft brown coat, when you heard footsteps coming from behind you. You turned to see Getou standing in the doorway.

“Didn’t expect to find you here this late,” he said, walking over to the stall where you were working. “Most folks would’ve called it a day by now.”

You shrugged, focusing on your work. “Just wanted to make sure everything was done. Didn’t want to leave anything unfinished.”

Getou watched you for a moment. “You don’t have to prove anything, you know,” he said quietly. “No one’s expecting you to do more than your share.”

You paused, looking up at him. There was something in his tone that made you feel like he understood more than he was letting on, like he knew what it was like to have something to prove.

“I know,” you said softly. “But I want to.”

Getou nodded, seeming to accept your answer. He leaned against the stall door, watching as you finished brushing down the mare. The silence between you was comfortable this time, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words.

When you finally put the brush away and closed the stall door, Getou straightened up. “Come on,” he said, gesturing toward the barn entrance. “It’s getting late. You’ll need your rest if you want to keep up tomorrow.”

You followed him out of the barn, the cool night air wrapped around you like a blanket. The stars were just beginning to appear in the sky, their light faint but steady.

As the two of you walked back toward the house, you felt as if there was a silent understanding between you both. He might not be the most talkative person, but you found yourself drawn to him.

By the time you reached the house, you were both silent, each lost in your thoughts. Getou paused at the bottom of the porch steps, turning to look at you.

“Good work today,” he said simply.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a warmth in your chest at his words. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He nodded, and with that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the night. You watched him go, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

The next morning, you were up before dawn, the quiet stillness of the ranch interrupted only by the distant crowing of a rooster and the soft chirping of early birds. The house was still shrouded in darkness as you moved through the hallway, careful not to wake anyone. You found yourself in the kitchen once again, savoring the quiet before the day began.

The previous day had been overwhelming, but you were eager to prove that you could handle the challenges of ranch life. The soreness in your muscles was a reminder of the hard work ahead, but it was also a testament to your determination to make this new life work.

You were just finishing your coffee when you heard the sound of boots on the porch. You turned, half-expecting to see Getou or one of the other ranch hands, but instead, the door swung open to reveal Gojou, his signature smirk already in place. He was dressed casually, a worn-out pair of jeans slung low on his hips and a white shirt.

“Mornin’,” he drawled, his blue eyes sparkling as he made his way into the kitchen. “You’re up early. Couldn’t sleep, or just eager to start another day of hard labor?”

“A little of both,” you admitted, setting your empty mug in the sink. “I wanted to get a head start.”

Gojou chuckled. “That’s the spirit! We like a bit of enthusiasm around here.” He leaned casually against the counter, crossing his arms as he studied you. “Though I gotta say, you might want to pace yourself. Ranch work isn’t a sprint; it’s a marathon. You'll burn out too quickly, and then you’ll be no good to anyone.”

You nodded, appreciating the advice. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Gojou pushed himself off the counter and stretched, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal his toned abs and a light trail of hair. “Good. Now, how about we get out there and see what kind of trouble we can stir up?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his infectious energy, even if you knew it would likely lead to him teasing you all day. Together, you left the kitchen and stepped out into the cool morning air, the sun still on the horizon.

As you walked down the porch steps and headed toward the barn, Gojou kept up a steady stream of conversation. He asked you about your first day, your impressions of the ranch, and how you were adjusting. It was clear that, beneath his carefree exterior, he genuinely cared about how you were settling in.

“I have to admit,” Gojou said as you reached the barn, “I wasn’t sure how you’d handle all this. Not everyone’s cut out for ranch life, especially not city folk. But you’ve got grit, I’ll give you that.”

“Thanks, I’m not afraid of a little hard work.”

“Good thing, too,” he said with a wink. “Because today, we’re going to see what you’re really made of.”

Inside the barn, the familiar scent of hay and horses greeted you, along with the soft sounds of animals moving around in their stalls. A few of the ranch hands, Nanami and Toji, were already at work, moving like people who had done this countless times before. They greeted you and Gojou with nods and brief smiles before returning to their tasks.

Gojou led you to the tack room, where he grabbed a saddle and a bridle, handing them to you with a grin. “Today, we’re going to get you up on a horse and see how you do. Ever ridden before?”

“A little,” you admitted, recalling the few times you’d been on a horse as a kid. “But it’s been a while.”

“No worries,” Gojou said, clapping you on the back. “I’ll make sure you’re in good hands. Or hooves, as it were.”

You followed him out to the paddock, where a few horses were grazing in the early morning light. The sight of them, their sleek coats glistening in the sun, was breathtaking. You could feel a sense of awe and respect for these powerful creatures, their size and strength a reminder of just how different ranch life was from anything you’d known before.

Gojou led one of the horses over to you. She was a chestnut mare with a white line down her face.

“This is Maple,” Gojou said, patting the mare’s neck affectionately. “She’s one of the gentlest horses we’ve got, perfect for someone who’s still finding their feet. She’ll take good care of you.”

You reached out to stroke Maple’s nose, feeling the soft warmth of her breath against your hand. The horse nickered softly, her large, intelligent eyes watching you with a calm curiosity.

“Go ahead and saddle her up,” Gojou instructed, stepping back to give you space. “I’ll be right here if you need any help.”

You took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. The saddle felt heavier than you remembered, the leather creaking as you lifted it onto Maple’s back. You fumbled a bit with the cinch, your fingers clumsy as you tried to remember the steps, but Gojou was patient, offering guidance without stepping in unless you needed it.

Once Maple was saddled, you took a moment to adjust the stirrups and make sure everything was secure. It was a small accomplishment, but it was significant to you, and you couldn’t help but smile as you led Maple out into the open paddock.

“Not bad,” Gojou remarked. “You’re a quick learner.”

“Thanks,” you replied, trying to hide the flush that crept up your cheeks.

“Now, let’s see you get up there,” Gojou said, gesturing toward the horse.

You took another deep breath, then placed your foot in the stirrup and swung yourself up into the saddle. The motion was a bit awkward, but you managed it without too much trouble. Once you were seated, you adjusted your position, gripping the reins loosely as you tried to find your balance.

Maple stood patiently beneath you, her ears flicking back as if she could sense your nervousness. But her calm demeanor helped to steady your nerves, and you took a moment to relax into the saddle, letting the rhythm of her breathing guide you.

“Remember, don’t pull too hard on the reins,” Gojou advised, leaning against the fence as he watched you. “Just gentle pressure—she’ll respond to even the slightest touch.”

You nodded, taking his advice to heart as you gave Maple a light nudge with your heels. The mare started forward with a smooth, easy gait, her movements fluid and controlled. You could feel the power in her legs as she moved.

Gojou walked alongside you as you guided Maple around the paddock. His presence was reassuring. He offered tips as you went, his voice calm and steady. You learned you really liked it. It wasn’t long before you began to feel more comfortable in the saddle, the initial awkwardness fading as you found your rhythm.

“See? You’ve got this,” Gojou said with a grin, watching as you guided Maple through a series of gentle turns. “It’s all about finding that connection with the horse, trusting each other. Once you’ve got that, the rest is easy.”

But just as you were starting to relax, Maple’s ears suddenly flicked up, her head lifting as she sensed something. You followed her gaze and saw a figure standing by the fence—a man with a rugged appearance and a steely gaze that sent a shiver down your spine.

It was the same man you’d seen the day before, watching you with a look that was hard to decipher. His presence was unsettling, a stark contrast to the easy camaraderie you’d shared with Gojou. There was something about him that put you on edge, a coldness in his eyes that seemed to pierce right through you.

Gojou noticed your reaction and followed your gaze, his expression darkening slightly as he saw the man. “Don’t mind him,” He said dismissively. “That’s just one of the neighbors. He’s always hanging around, looking for something to complain about.”

Eventually, the man turned and walked away, disappearing into the distance. You breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease as you continued your ride.

After your riding lesson, Gojou led you through more of the daily tasks—mucking stalls, feeding the horses, and helping maintain the ranch.

The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the Lone Star Ranch in hues of amber and gold. The warmth of the day lingered in the air, wrapping everything in a soft, golden light. As you walked alongside Gojou back to the house, you felt a deep sense of contentment.

The silence between you was comfortable only interrupted by the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant sounds of ranch animals preparing for the night. It was a moment that felt suspended in time.

When you reached the porch, Gojou paused and turned to you, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about we enjoy the sunset?” he suggested, gesturing to a pair of weathered leather chairs positioned perfectly to face the horizon.

You nodded as you settled into one of the chairs, you felt the worn leather conform to your body. The view from the porch was breathtaking—the sky was full of oranges, pinks, and purples, with the setting sun casting long, soft shadows across the ranch.

Gojou took the seat beside you, leaning back into the soft leather. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tin, the metallic surface catching the last rays of sunlight. With a flick of his wrist, he opened it, revealing a pack of cigarettes nestled inside.

He glanced over at you. “Do you mind?” he asked, though his tone suggested he was more interested in your reaction than in seeking actual permission.

You shook your head, watching curiously as he took a cigarette from the pack and brought it to his lips. He then pulled out a decorated lighter, the flame illuminating his face for a moment before he lit the cigarette, and inhaled deeply.

The first plumes of smoke curled upward, drifting lazily into the evening air. Gojou exhaled slowly, the smoke forming delicate spirals before dissipating into the breeze. There was something almost hypnotic about the way he smoked, each motion was as if he were savoring not just the cigarette but the moment itself.

It was kind of hot.

Gojou took another drag, his eyes half-closed as he exhaled slowly, the smoke blending with the soft colors of the sunset.

“You know,” he began, “there’s something about this time of day that makes everything feel... clearer. Like all the noise from the day just fades away.”

You nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. “It’s peaceful,” you replied, your voice soft. “It’s like the world slows down for a while.”

Gojou glanced at you, his eyes catching the light in a way that made them appear even more blue, more intense. “Exactly. It’s a good time to just... be. No expectations, no pressure.”

He took another slow drag from the cigarette, the end glowing a bright orange before he exhaled again, this time blowing the smoke out in a thin, steady stream. The smoke seemed to hang in the air between you, creating a veil that blurred the lines between the two of you, making the moment feel even more intimate.

“You ever smoke?” Gojou asked, breaking the silence.

“Not really,” you admitted, your gaze still fixed on the way the smoke curled in the air. “Never saw the appeal.”

“Shit, you’re missing out, sweetheart,” Gojou said with a playful grin. “You’re finally getting a taste of what ranch life is all about."

Gojou chuckled softly, “But yeah, it’s not for everyone. But sometimes it’s more about the ritual than anything else. It’s a way to take a step back, to slow down and just... breathe.”

There was something soothing about the way he described it, and you found yourself nodding in agreement. “I can see that.”

Gojou turned to face you. “Wanna try?”

You hesitated for a moment, but the curiosity got the better of you. “Sure,” you said, accepting the cigarette he offered with a reluctant smile.

The last thing you thought he would do was pull the cigarette he was smoking out of his mouth and hand it to you. But you took it anyway.

As your fingers brushed against his, you felt a spark of warmth that sent a shiver up your spine. Gojou’s gaze lingered on you as you brought the cigarette to your lips, his eyes were filled with something that you couldn’t quite place.

You took a small drag, the smoke was harsh on your throat at first, but you quickly adjusted, mimicking the way Gojou had exhaled. The smoke tasted bitter, but there was something oddly intimate about sharing a cigarette. It was something grounding in the way it forced you to focus on each breath.

“Not bad,” He remarked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a natural.”

You laughed softly, the sound blending with the rustling of the leaves in the breeze. “I wouldn’t go that far, but thanks.”

Gojou leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours as he took another drag. The air between you seemed to thicken with every passing second.

As you passed the cigarette back to him, your fingers brushed against his again, and this time the two of you lingered. Gojou didn’t pull away, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he were testing the boundaries between you. The moment stretched out, filled with an unspoken question, one that neither of you seemed ready to answer just yet.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting the last rays of golden light over the ranch. The sky had deepened to a rich indigo, with stars beginning to twinkle faintly above. The temperature dropped slightly, the coolness of the evening air brushing against your skin.

Gojou took another long drag from the cigarette, his eyes half-lidded as he exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift into the night. His gaze turned back to you, “You’re different from what I expected,” he said, his voice low. “Stronger.”

His words took you by surprise, and you felt a flush of warmth spread through you. “Thanks,” you replied softly, not entirely sure how to respond.

Gojou’s smile was faint but genuine as he took one last drag from the cigarette before extinguishing it in the ashtray beside him. “Most people don’t last long out here. They get scared off by the work, and the isolation... But you? You’re tougher than you look.”

You’d spent so much of your life running from your past, trying to prove to yourself that you could handle whatever came your way, and hearing those words from Gojou, of all people, felt like a validation you hadn’t realized you needed.

“You’re not what I expected either,” you admitted, meeting his gaze. “You’re... different.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and rich in the cool evening air. “Good different, I hope.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Good different.”

“You know, Gojou, you’re not as bad as I thought you would be.”

He arched an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shook your head, a faint smile playing at your lips. “I mean, I had this whole idea of you being a bit of a troublemaker. Turns out, you’re just a guy who knows how to unwind.”

Gojou chuckled, “And here I was thinking you’d have too much of a stick up your ass to appreciate a good smoke.”

“Guess I’m full of surprises,” you replied, your tone light.

“By the way, you can call me Satoru.”

"Satoru..." You tested his name on your tongue, “Well, Satoru, thanks for sharing your cigarette with me. It’s nice to have a moment like this, away from all the chaos.”

Satoru’s smile softened, his eyes meeting yours. “Anytime. And if you ever need a break or just someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

As the last light faded from the sky, Satoru stood up and stretched. “It’s getting late,” he said, his voice a little softer now. “We should head inside.”

You nodded, though part of you wasn’t quite ready for the evening to end. The house, with its inviting atmosphere, felt like a refuge from the outside world, out here, in the open air, with the stars overhead and the smell of tobacco lingering.

Satoru extended a hand, his calloused fingers warm against yours. Together, you walked back toward the house, the evening’s cool breeze brushing against your skin.

Inside, the warmth of the house enveloped you, and the scent of wood and earth filled your senses. The memories of the day—Satoru teaching you how to ride a horse, the two of you sharing a cigarette and watching the sun setting over the ranch played through your mind.

Satoru paused at the foot of the stairs, turning to you with a soft smile. “Goodnight Y/N,” he said, his voice low.

“Goodnight,” you replied his gaze linger on you as you made your way upstairs.

You settled into bed with the comforting sounds of the ranch lulling you to sleep, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And just before you drifted off, the image of Satoru—cigarette in hand, eyes full of mischief—lingered in your mind.

Maybe this was where you were meant to be.

series masterlist -> chapter 2

A flash of lightning illuminates the sky, followed by a loud crack of thunder. The storm intensifies, and you see it — electricity surging through him, piercing deep into his flesh. He stands with his arms outstretched like a crucifixion, his body twisting in agonised ecstasy as tendrils of light entwine around him. The heavens roar, a judgment passed, and his form is illuminated with a halo of searing, holy light. It’s blinding, and then gone in a heartbeat. As if you imagined it.

He tilts his head ever so slightly, assessing you, weighing your worth. It’s not quite human.

You wonder how swiftly you might be devoured, a rabbit caught between his teeth, the taste of your own vulnerability lingering on his tongue.

“You’re different,” he finally speaks, his voice cutting through the roar of the tempest. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re not like the others.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you like a physical force — prey caught in a trap. “What do you mean?”

He takes a step closer, his movements fluid and graceful despite the violence of the storm. “Most mortals are blind to the truth,” he replies. “But you see me.”

“I don’t understand,” you breathe, heart pounding in your chest.

You notice that his eyes are a preternatural shade of electric blue, lightning trapped within the confines of human form.

“You will,” he promises. He says it with such certainty, as if it were an undeniable truth of the universe.

Perhaps it is. Perhaps he truly possesses that kind of power.

“What are you?” Your voice is barely audible over the cacophony of rain and wind.

His laughter echoes in the darkness, mingling with the rumble of thunder. “I am many things.” His smile widens, a gleam of amusement flashing in his eyes. “A messenger, perhaps.”

Before you can reply, another bolt of lightning splits the sky, illuminating his form in stark relief against the darkness. In that brief moment of clarity, you catch a glimpse of something beyond comprehension — something primal and ancient, older than time itself, gazing back at you with a smile.

---

Satoru is his father’s favourite child, and so the gods watch him every day.

He eats when they command. He sleeps when they command. When they ask for his devotion, his rage, his life, he cannot deny them. Their whispers infest his mind — always judging, decreeing, demanding — and he cannot silence them. He has been neatly erased and sculpted anew, again and again. The pain has long since faded.

He wants and wants and craves and needs and wants. They do not hear him. He fears he is forgetting his own name. His knees are raw and bruised and bleeding. How long must he pray? How long will he repent? He feels the blood under his skin and his heart throbbing in his chest, and he wants to claw it out and swallow it whole.

And then Satoru meets you. His longing grows teeth, and he wants to sink them into the marrow of your bones, to consume until there is nothing left but the echo of his name on your lips.

You can see him. He doesn’t remember the last time someone has.  

And so, he follows you.

He observes your every move, drinking in the sight of you as if trying to decipher a puzzle that has long confounded him. Other mortals pass by without a second glance, their minds clouded by the mundane concerns of their mundane lives.

He’s currently trailing behind you in a grocery store. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in one before.

The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow over rows of neatly stacked shelves. It’s been years since he’s tasted mortal food, years since he’s felt the sensation of hunger gnawing at his insides. He can almost remember what it was like — the taste of ripe fruit on his tongue, the feeling of warmth spreading through his body with each bite.

His childhood memories are but fragments now, faded and softened like aged parchment, but he thinks of his mother often. She had treated him with kindness — fed and comforted him. He remembers the way she whispered stories of heroes and villains, of spirits and curses. It is perhaps the only vestige of humanity that remains within him. But then she had died, and left him with his father.

The gods are cruel and fickle. This is the oldest story he knows. Maybe it’s the only story that matters.

But now, he has better things to occupy himself with.

“Hello, little mortal.”

You’re startled by the unexpected voice. “You...” you begin, mouth agape like a fish. “I remember you. From the storm.”

“It seems fate has brought us together once again,” he says, smiling in a way that shows too many teeth.

“…In a grocery store?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he replies, his tone mocking and sharp. “Perhaps a dark alley is more to your taste? Maybe an abandoned warehouse?”

Other customers pass by without so much as a glance in his direction, their eyes sliding right over him as if he were nothing more than a ghost.

“Why are you here? Are you following me?”

“You’re asking the wrong questions, sweetheart.”

Then —

“Who are you?”

“There,” he grins. “Much better.”

He leans in closer, his presence electrifying the air around you. “I am the son of thunder and lightning,” he says, his voice low and resonant. “You are the first in centuries to see me for what I truly am. And for that, you have my interest and my gratitude.”

“I — you’re welcome?” you reply, your confusion palpable, and he finds himself quite enjoying the sight of you flustered and disorientated. “But what’s going on? Why am I the only one who can see you?”

“Maybe you’re blessed by the gods,” he muses. “Or maybe you’re just very lucky. Both, perhaps.”

“Lucky? This is crazy.” Your voice falters like a dancer stumbling mid-performance. “You’re crazy.”

He smiles. “Overwhelming, isn’t it? But don’t worry, you’re not losing your mind. Everything you see and hear is quite real.”

Satoru often wishes things were not real — that he had been born a simple soldier, just another grunt faithfully serving his leader, destined to fight and die in some random, meaningless battle. He would be lost to history, lost to the gods, and no one would remember his name or who his father was. Sometimes, he even thinks that might be preferable to this world, but he doesn’t want to scare you off that badly.

You exhale slowly, steadying yourself. “Okay, okay. So, what happens now? What do you want from me?”

“Nothing more than your company,” he replies. Satoru had always been a selfish child, unwilling to part with his toys, reluctant to share. This would be no exception. “You can expect to see me again soon. Don’t miss me too much, sweetheart.”

He watches you for a moment longer, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. And then, just as suddenly as he appeared, he fades into the shadows once more, leaving you standing alone in the store. As if you had imagined it.

It isn’t until later, when he’s alone with his thoughts and the gods’ whispers, that he realises something peculiar: the voices in his head fall silent in your presence.

He’s uncertain of its implications, yet strangely pleased by the trouble it promises. He’s always had a talent for pissing of his father.

---

The steady beat of the rain against the windows is soothing as you step into the shower. Steam envelops the room, clouding the mirrors and curling into a comforting haze around you. It had been a while since you were able to relax like this — thoughts of gods and monsters plaguing your mind with unsettling frequency. You were familiar with Greek mythology, of course, but it was one thing to enjoy studying history, another thing to relive it.

You had tried to convince yourself that it had never happened, that you just had an overactive imagination fuelled by reading too many fantasy books as a child. No, you weren’t being followed by a demigod; this was just a prelude to a wild, miraculous adventure. Maybe you’d slay a dragon, marry a handsome elven prince. This story wouldn’t be a Greek myth — you wouldn’t be swallowed by the sea, molten wings dripping down your spine; you wouldn’t walk into hell, never to return.

You’re halfway through rinsing the shampoo from your hair when you hear a strange rustling sound from outside the bathroom. You pause, water streaming down your face, listening intently. The noise is faint but persistent, coming from the direction of the kitchen. Your pulse quickens, mouth dry. It seems unlikely someone is trying to rob you; your apartment holds nothing of real value, nothing worth stealing. Perhaps a wild animal has found its way inside, seeking shelter from the storm.

You turn off the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself as you cautiously step out of the bathroom. The sound grows louder as you approach the kitchen. Your mind races through the possibilities, each one more improbable than the last.

Peeking around the corner, you brace yourself for whatever you might find.

Instead, you find the Son of Zeus rummaging through your cabinets. He looks up at you, unfazed by your dripping state, and grins widely.

You suppose you were right about the wild animal creeping in.

“You should really keep more snacks,” he says, holding up an empty bag of chips accusingly.

“Oh my god, I thought I was going to die.” You’re uncertain if you still might.

“Gods,” he corrects, and you’re really struggling to reconcile the image of him in the storm with the person now, complaining about your food options and grammar.

“You can’t just appear out of nowhere and start raiding my kitchen,” you hiss, wrapping the towel tighter around yourself.

“But it’s raining. You should’ve known I’d drop by.” he says, frowning, as if this were the most reasonable explanation in the world and not completely insane.

“Next time, send a text, a messenger pigeon, literally anything else. I think I’m going to have a heart attack.”

He shrugs, unperturbed. “Consider it a lesson in being prepared. You never know when a god might appear.”

“I could have been naked!” you retort, your voice rising in frustration. This is perhaps the least of your worries, but common sense and self-preservation has apparently abandoned you.

“Don’t shout at me about that! Besides, you’re in a towel, so crisis averted!” He seems disappointed by this fact. You want to throw something at him.

“I am not shouting!” you say, shouting. “I am communicating my annoyance.”

“With what? Your lungs?”

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, a stubborn set to your jaw as you turn mulishly silent. You can’t believe you’re being stalked by a demigod.

He heaves a deep sigh, leaning against your kitchen counter. “Fine, I’m sorry. I had not meant to upset or startle you.”

“Please stop following me.”

He ignores you completely, instead pulling out a can of soup and examining it with a bemused expression. “Seriously, how do you live like this? No ambrosia, no nectar. Not even a decent piece of fruit.”

“Get out of my apartment, I swear to god.”

“Gods,” he grins, before disappearing once more.

--- You realise you must have terrible luck when he begins to follow you around more persistently after the shower incident, no longer bothering to even hide his presence. It’s a little odd to have a demigod trailing behind you like a stray dog, but any initial wariness melts away when you catch him eating your cereal. He develops an immediate liking for Rice Krispies, insisting you keep the cupboards stocked with them. It feels as if you’re catering to a spoiled prince, but you suspect even that would be easier to handle.

But the sight of him — this divine, impossible entity — utterly engrossed in his breakfast is strangely endearing.

You still wish he wasn’t eating your cereal, though, and he never cleans his mugs after using them, and —

“You’ve never asked for my name, you know,” he says, interrupting your thoughts.

“Believe it or not, there’s a reason for that,” you reply, eyeing him cautiously. “Namely, you were never invited into my apartment in the first place.”

“You’re always so mean,” he sighs dramatically, “but I suppose I can forgive you this once. It’s Satoru.”

“I would say it’s nice to meet you, but I think I’d be lying.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Everyone likes me.”

“Are you sure? How many people do you talk to? Humans, I mean, not gods.”

He pauses, considering. “Then the gods like me.”

“Is that a good thing?”

He shrugs, his expression pensive. “I’m not sure.”

It occurred to you that you should be frightened of him. You are not.

You suspect he might just be lonely.

(And you, well, you’ve always had a soft spot for strays.)

---

His random appearances in your apartment were becoming a daily occurrence now. One moment you’d be brewing coffee, and the next, he’d be sitting at your kitchen table like he was the one paying rent. He would ask questions incessantly, about the most mundane things — the colour of your curtains, the taste of cake, the texture of your favourite sweater. It made you wonder if you were hallucinating, if perhaps the stress of daily life had finally taken its toll on your sanity. But the more you interacted with him, the more you realised that he was undeniably — and annoyingly — real. You couldn’t possibly invent a creature like him.

In response, you had started asking him questions back. If he was going to be spending an uncomfortable amount of time with you, he owed you this. Plus, it seemed like he enjoyed the sound of his own voice — perhaps you could tire him out and he’d go find another mortal to pester.

The likelihood of that happening seemed slim at best, but one could pray.

“What are the gods like?” you ask, biting into a croissant he bought from a little bakery down the street. You’re not exactly sure where he got the money, but you’re not going to argue with free food.

“Describing the gods to a mortal is like trying to paint a picture without a canvas.” He furrows his brow, searching for the right words. “They’re vast, incomprehensible beings, each embodying different aspects of existence. Some are benevolent, while others are more…capricious.”

“And you’re similar to them?”

“In some ways, perhaps. But I’m also different,” he begins, “I’m not bound by the same rules and regulations that govern the gods. I have a bit more... freedom, you could say. I’m not beholden to any particular domain or duty.”

You nod, definitely not admiring the way the sunlight catches in his hair as he speaks. “What about your powers? Are they granted by your father?”

The idea that his father is a god is still strange, lingering in your thoughts like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit into the picture of the world you thought you knew.

“Yes, in a way. Zeus’s blood flows through my veins, so I can control the elements. I have the power to summon storms, manipulate lightning, bend the fabric of reality to my will.” He smiles, and it reminds you of a cat, smug and self-assured. “I’m powerful, you know.”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re so cocky.”

“You would be too if you were me,” he grins.

But then you notice a shadow pass over his features. “Don’t mistake it for pride, though,” he continues, his expression tightening into a scowl. “I may not be bound by their rules, but I’m still expected to worship them, perhaps more than the average mortal.”

You furrow your brow. “But you’re the son of Zeus, why are you still expected to worship them?”

His laughter echoes through the room. “Because that’s the way it’s always been. You know the myths — they give you attention when it suits them, but they can just as easily cast you aside when they grow bored.”

“You’re caught between two worlds, then — not quite mortal, yet not fully divine,” you reply, frowning. “It sounds painful.”

“You seem worried about me,” he grins.

You can tell he’s trying to deflect, and you let him.

You briefly wonder what would happen if he carved out every unwanted emotion until only his soul remained. Would he shatter that, too? Break it down into more manageable pieces?

Had he tried to purge them, surgically extract sorrow, fear, anger, believing that what remained would be purer, stronger?

“I’m not worried about you,” you retort, crossing your arms defensively.

“Of course not,” he replies, teasing. “But don’t worry, I can handle myself.”

“On your own?”

His falters for a moment. “On my own,” he repeats.

Before you can press further, he seems to shut down, his expression becoming unreadable, like a mask slipping into place.

And then, without another word, he disappears.

You’re left standing there, alone, as if you had imagined it.

---

The next time you see him, Satoru is standing outside the door of your apartment. It’s a rare sight — he hardly ever bothers with such formalities as knocking. Usually, he strolls around your place without a care in the world, as if the boundaries of your home were mere suggestions rather than solid walls.

You notice the tension in his stance, the way he seems almost hesitant to cross the threshold. But it’s only when you see the blood that your unease turns to alarm. Flecks of red dot his hair, his hands, staining the fabric of his clothing, none of it his own — there’s not a scratch on him.

You hesitate, unsure whether to approach or flee, to lock the door and pretend you never saw him. But there’s a look in his eyes that stops you from walking away.

“What happened?” you ask cautiously.

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re dripping in blood, and that’s nothing?”

He exhales heavily, and he suddenly reminds you of Atlas, the weight of the world resting upon his shoulders. “Trouble,” he replies cryptically, his shoulders sagging. “More than I bargained for.”

You step closer, reaching out your hand to touch him, but he flinches away, as if the contact is too much to bear.

“Can I help?” you offer tentatively, the words slipping from your lips before you can fully comprehend their weight.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Why don’t you come inside?”

He nods, conceding defeat. “Alright,” he murmurs. “Alright.”

Together, you guide him to the nearest chair, his body slumping heavily as if drained of all strength.

You step into the kitchen, your footsteps soft against the cool tile floor. Opening the cupboard, you retrieve a clean towel and a small bowl, filling it with lukewarm water from the sink.

As you return to the living room, you offer him a small smile, much like coaxing a stray cat, as you place the bowl and towel within reach. “Close your eyes,” you instruct gently.

He complies without hesitation, tilting his head back to grant you better access. Dipping a corner of the towel into the water, you carefully press it against his scalp, the fabric absorbing the blood with each gentle pat. Root to tip, you work your way through his hair, your touch light as you cleanse away the stains. As you work, you can feel the tension slowly seeping out of his body, his muscles relaxing beneath your touch.

After a few moments of silence, Satoru speaks, his voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

You pause, glancing at him. “Are you okay?”

“What?”

“I’m asking if you’re okay.”

He sits up, his expression guarded, as if he’s shielding himself from further vulnerability.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” he replies. “My feelings are irrelevant to the gods.”

You can sense the bitterness in his tone, the weight of centuries of servitude pressing down upon.

“That’s ridiculous,” you counter, your voice firm. “You’re a person, with your own thoughts and needs and wants. That matters more than anything.”

“You don’t understand. Being okay, feeling okay — it’s not something I can afford to indulge in.” He hesitates, his expression unreadable. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with such trivial matters. I am what I am, and nothing will change that.”

“You deserve more than that,” you reply firmly. You won’t let him deflect again.

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, his expression shifts from stoic resolve to something resembling surprise. It’s as if the concept of deserving more — of having a life beyond duty and sacrifice — is a foreign idea, one he has never entertained. He blinks, his eyes widening slightly, and you realise that no one has ever told him this before. The idea that he could desire something beyond his obligations seems to catch him off guard.

“Do I?” he asks cautiously, as if afraid of the answer.

“Yes, you do. You’re not a machine. You’re a person. You’re more than what the gods expect of you.”

He looks away, his gaze distant as he processes your words. “It’s hard to believe that after everything I’ve done,” he admits quietly. “I’ve spent so long being what they wanted me to be. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

He takes a deep breath. “No one has seen me in years, not really. I’ve forgotten how long it’s been. The only ones who notice me are the gods and cursed spirits. My friends are long gone. Some are in the Elysian Fields, others in the Underworld, forever lost to me.”

He pauses. “I’ve watched centuries pass, mortals live and die, while I remain. Your kindness is something I haven’t felt in a long time.”

For a moment, he looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty.

Then, with a voice barely above a whisper, he confesses, “I often feel like I am no more than a ghost.”

Oh, you realise, he has no one else.

He’s all alone.

“I see no ghost.” You grasp his wrist gently, feeling his pulse, the warmth in his hands. “Only a man, flesh and blood, right here with me.”

A corner of his mouth twitches, as if trying to restrain a smile. You wonder what would happen if he let go of all his control.

But then he clenches his jaw, steeling himself again before speaking. “I owe you an explanation for showing up here like this.” He looks away from you, his eyes fixed on some distant point. “The blood is from cursed spirits. The gods ordered me to kill them. Hundreds of them, for days on end. Over and over again.”

As he speaks, you can see the weight of his burden etched in the tension of his muscles, in the tautness of his posture. “The spirits were twisted, corrupted beyond redemption. They brought only chaos and suffering to those around them.”

“But why you? Why not another demigod?”

“Because I’m the strongest. And if I refused, the consequences would have been dire.” He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “This is not new to me; I have been doing this for hundreds of years.”

“The gods... they speak to me constantly, relentless in their demands. There’s no respite, no break from their commands.” His voice softens slightly as he looks at you. “But with you, they’re silent. I’m not sure why. Only that I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this.”

You blink, and then without thinking — instinctively, inevitably — your arms move towards him, pulling him into a hug. At first, he stiffens, as if unaccustomed to touch or kindness after years of solitude. But gradually, almost imperceptibly, he relaxes, leaning into your warmth.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe into the side of his neck.

“What for?” he asks, his voice tinged with bewilderment, as if he can’t quite comprehend your empathy.

“For everything you’ve had to endure. For the weight you carry, for the constant demands placed upon you. For helping people for centuries, without anyone to thank you.”

“I never expected...” he begins, his voice trailing off as he struggles to find the right words. “I never expected this.”

“Thank you,” you say, “for everything.”

His arms tighten around you, and it’s a small victory, a crack in the armour he wears so tightly.

As you pull back from the hug, there’s a brief moment of hesitation, a reluctance to let go. But you step back, allowing him some space.

“So,” you continue, “how about some pizza? I know a great place nearby.”

Terrible junk food always cheered you up — perhaps it would work on demigods, too.

His brow furrows in confusion. “What’s that?”

“Oh, I have so many things to show you.”

Has he ever had ice-cream? Greasy chicken nuggets? You realise with startling clarity that you want to introduce him to everything he’s missed, to show him the world, if you can.

You’ll psychoanalyse yourself later.

“I feel like a stray cat that’s just been adopted.”

“You are,” you grin.

---

That night, you dream.

Darkness envelops you, a suffocating shroud that clings to your skin. You find yourself standing in a desolate landscape, the ground beneath your feet cold and lifeless, covered in a fine layer of ash. The sky above is a vast expanse of swirling shadows, devoid of stars and moonlight. You are utterly alone.

And then, from the shadows, a figure emerges.

“You have trespassed into a realm not meant for mortal eyes,” his voice rasps, as though unused for years.

The figure steps closer, his form shifting and flickering like a flame in the wind. Long black hair frames a face that seems too perfect, too flawless to belong to any world. He reminds you of Satoru, but colder, more distant.

“You are in the Underworld,” he continues. “A place where the boundaries between life and death blur, where mortals are not meant to linger.”

“Why?” you manage to ask, but the words feeling thick and foreign on your tongue.

The weight of the atmosphere presses down on you, making your limbs feel heavy as if you’re wading through sticky, dense molasses.

“Because of the Son of Zeus. Mortals are fragile, easily ensnared by the allure of gods.”

“I don’t understand.” You wish he would speak clearly, cut through the riddles and half-truths.

“Satoru is bound by duty and legacy. His path is one of sacrifice and solitude. To draw close to him is to court danger.”

“But he needs help. He’s suffering.”

“Suffering is his burden to bear. Mortals and gods do not walk the same path.” He pauses, his gaze distant, like he’s not even looking at you anymore. “Turn back. Forget what you have seen. Forget you ever met him.”

It’s as if you’re underwater, each movement slow and weighted by unseen currents. But you know what you’re saying is important, that it carries weight.

“I can’t do that.”

“You defy the natural order. To involve yourself in the affairs of gods and their chosen is to court calamity.”

“I can’t turn away,” you insist. “He’s all alone.”

Uncertainty churns within you, a tumultuous mix of emotions that you don’t know how to navigate. You’re unsure when these feelings caught up to you, but you can at least recognise the depth of your own attachment. You’re scared of the consequences, but it pales beside the thought of doing nothing — of knowing you could do something, be something, and still choosing to walk away.

So, you take a step closer. “I won’t abandon him.”

The figure’s form shimmers momentarily, as if contemplating your words. “Fine,” he concedes, a fleeting hint of sympathy in his eyes. “But know this, mortals who tread where gods roam seldom emerge unscathed.”

“I understand.”

With a nod, he gestures toward a faint glimmer in the darkness. “Go then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you both.”

You wake suddenly, drenched in sweat, your heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, the darkness of the dream clings to your senses, blurring the edges of reality and casting your world into a cold, disorienting haze. Gradually, the details of your bedroom come into focus — the familiar contours of furniture, the posters on your walls, the soft glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains. You sit up, pulling your knees close to your chest, attempting to steady your breathing.

And then, as if he can sense your discomfort, Satoru is by your side.

“You’re awake,” he says gently, a tenderness in his voice that catches you off guard. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might care about your wellbeing, too,

You nod silently, unable to find words, your hands trembling.

“A nightmare?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

“Yeah,” you manage to whisper. “Of the Underworld.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” he says softly. “Even the gods find it unbearable.”

“How did you know something was wrong?”

“…I’m not sure. It felt like I was missing a limb.” He pauses, contemplating. “It felt like a part of me was torn away, and I couldn’t find it.”

“What’s going on with the two of us?” You feel as if you’re two stars in orbit, drawn together by something neither of you can understand. “Why is this happening?”

“I’m confused too,” he admits, almost apologetically. “But I’m going to do some research, try to understand what’s happening.”

You exhale slowly, thoughts swirling as you try to make sense of it all. “In the dream, I saw someone. They warned me about you, about being close to the gods.”

Satoru’s brow furrows slightly, his expression troubled. “They have reason to caution you,” he replies. “There are dangers you don’t yet understand.”

“But I don’t want to leave you,” you confess. A simple truth, but it still feels disarming to admit. “I want to understand, to help if I can.”

Satoru reaches out, his hand finding yours in the dark.

“You already do,” he murmurs. “But I don’t expect that of you.”

The faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen blends with the occasional rumble of passing traffic outside, but otherwise, all you can hear are his slow, steady breaths, calming in the quiet of the night.

“Will you stay?” you ask.

He feels as safe as the earth and as steady as the trees — natural and unwavering, like something that can withstand time itself.

“Of course.” He says it without hesitation, as easy as breathing.

You shift slightly, making room for him on the bed, and he settles beside you, close but not quite touching.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Sleep. You’re safe here.”

You allow yourself to relax, reassured by the knowledge that you are not alone. That he isn’t, either.

---

You wake to the scent of something burning. It feels almost symbolic.

Groggy and sluggish, you stumble out of bed and shuffle towards the kitchen, silently praying that your apartment isn’t ablaze — that you aren’t the target of divine retribution from some irate deity. Pushing open the door, you find Satoru standing by the stove, a look of intense concentration on his face as he prods at a pan of charred bacon.

“Satoru?” you call out, half-amused and half-concerned. “What are you doing?”

“I... uh, thought I’d try to make breakfast, but it didn’t exactly go to plan.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve mastered the art of making charcoal,” you reply, moving to his side.

“It’s harder than I thought,” he admits, frowning at the pan.

“The big, scary demigod can’t cook,” you coo, gently nudging him with your elbow.

He stares at the bacon with contempt.

“Cereal?”

“I’ll get the milk.”

You set aside the burnt bacon and clear the stove, grabbing a couple of bowls from the cupboard while Satoru retrieves the Rice Krispies. Together, you sit at the table in comfortable silence, the early morning sunlight filtering through the kitchen window.

“You know, it’s nice to see this side of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that you’re no longer particularly intimidating to me anymore.”

“Don’t tempt me. I could still burn you to a crisp,” he huffs.

“I’ll take my chances.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re not as terrifying as you pretend to be.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“No promises,” you laugh.

A pause, and then —

“Can I show you something?” he asks you, still smiling. “Hold your hand up.”

Curious, you extend your hand toward him, but as your palm nears his, you feel a subtle resistance, an invisible barrier surrounding him. No matter how hard you try, you can’t get close.

“Is this a magic trick or something?”

He laughs, the sound warm and genuine, and you definitely don’t want to admit how much you enjoy hearing it.

“Not exactly. You’re the first to call it that,” he replies. “What you’re feeling is my Limitless technique. It creates an infinite amount of space between me and everything else.”

“So, nothing can ever touch you?” Despite being in the presence of the most powerful, impossible man you’ve ever encountered, your mind can only fixate on the idea of touching him. You should be in awe, or even fear — literally anything else — but apparently, logic and reason evaporate in his presence.

“Only if I want it to,” he answers, his gaze steady on yours.

The air hums with a faint energy as the barrier fades, allowing your palm to finally connect with his. He slides his fingers between yours, his touch surprisingly gentle, almost reverent.

“There,” he murmurs. “Now you can feel it.”

You can’t help but notice how large Satoru’s hands are, his fingers long and strong as they intertwine with yours.

You blink, and a sudden, sinking realisation washes over you.

Your eyes trace the unblemished ivory of his skin, the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his throat. You can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if his touch roamed further.

Then, as if sensing your thoughts, his thumb grazes the bare skin of your arm. His touch is so delicate as he traces a path down from your elbow to your forearm, it’s almost as if he’s not touching you at all.

You realise with sudden clarity that you want him to touch you. You fear you might not let him stop, that you would allow him anything he asked.

The intensity of your emotions takes you by surprise. You reluctantly pull away, breaking the spell that had woven itself around you.

Now is not the time for this.

You couldn’t shake the feeling you were adrift in a storm-tossed sea, waves crashing around you, threatening to pull you under at any moment. And yet, strangely enough, you felt no fear. Not of him. Perhaps you should be terrified; perhaps there was something fundamentally broken inside of you, something that even the gods couldn’t save. But his presence, despite its intensity, was the eye of the storm, the still point around which everything else swirled. And somehow, that made all the difference.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I’m fine.”

(Having a crush on a demigod was very much not fine, but he doesn’t need to know that.)

---

“Are any of the gods happy?”

You’re lying side by side, nestled in a field of tall grass that sways gently in the breeze. The warmth of the day hangs thick in the air, while the branches of nearby trees rustle gently, their leaves casting dappled patterns of sunlight over your intertwined fingers.

It was your idea to get out of the house, to show him something good and pure and timeless. The spot you had chosen is a favourite from your childhood, a place you’d escape to when you were stressed and overwhelmed. The scent of grass and earth brings back memories of those afternoons, when time seemed to stretch lazily and worries felt distant. Here, the biggest decision was whether to sit by the stream or follow a path through the woods.

As you lie there together, the scene feels almost sacred, as if the world has paused just for this moment of quiet between you.

You look at him and see the way the sunlight falls softly on his face, highlighting all the details you’d come to know by heart — the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, the warmth in his eyes. His features are etched in your memory so deeply now that you could recognise him by touch alone.

In moments like these, it’s easy to forget the boundaries between mortal and divine.

“Happy?” he repeats. “I don’t know if happiness is something they seek,” he muses, more to himself than to you. “They are driven by duty, by ancient laws and responsibilities that are beyond even me.”

The breeze brushes against your skin as you wait for him to finish his thought.

“They experience moments of contentment, perhaps,” he continues. “But true happiness? I’m not sure they even understand what that means.”

“Do you think they envy mortals, then?” you ask.

“Perhaps in fleeting moments. Mortals possess a freedom we cannot fully grasp, but envy implies a desire for something different. I’m not sure they allow themselves such thoughts.”

“Do you?”

“There are times when I wish I had their capacity to experience emotions so deeply and openly — joy and pain, love and loss,” he says, glancing down at your intertwined hands on the grass. “But I also understand my path is different. My duty lies elsewhere, even if it means sacrificing certain desires. I cannot change what I am. I just wish I could offer you more.”

“You’re more than enough,” you reply, gently squeezing his hand.

He hesitates for a moment, then nods slightly. “Thank you,” he murmurs, squeezing back.

After a moment of silence, he sits up a little straighter, his expression pensive. “About the nightmare,” he begins, “the man you met...” His voice trails off, and you can sense his reluctance to delve into something so distressing for you.

You offer him a small smile, encouraging him to continue. “It’s okay, don’t worry.”

“Did he say his name?

“I don’t think so. He just said that I was in the Underworld, that I should stay away from the gods. I remember he had dark hair and eyes, and…” you pause, recalling another detail, “and he mentioned he’d warned you, too.”

“Suguru,” he breathes. “It has to be.”

“Do you know him?”

“I knew him a long time ago, perhaps. He was the son of Dionysus. We grew up together, and for most of my life, he was my only friend.” He clenches his jaw, and you can’t quite read the emotion in his eyes. “He’s gone now. It’s been more than a hundred years since I last saw him.”

“Do you miss him?”

“I miss him and hate him in equal measure, even after all this time.” His tone is perfectly neutral, carefully restrained. “He was a genocidal idiot. I was ordered to kill him.”

“Oh,” you respond, unsure of what to offer someone who has lost so much. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he dismisses with a bitter laugh. “It was written by the fates long before you were born. I’m just confused as to why he’s haunting your dreams in particular.”

“We’ll figure this out together, Satoru,” you reply gently. “Whether it’s fate, the gods, or something else entirely, we’ll find answers.”

You feel as if interacting with a demigod on a daily basis has made everything feel more possible, like you could pluck the stars from the heavens or reshape the very earth beneath your feet. You’re uncertain if this is a positive development.

“You’re taking all of this remarkably well.” His brows crease in confusion. “I’ve told you my dead best friend appeared in your dreams, that I killed him — hell, that the gods are alive and real — and you’re comforting me?”

“Sometimes, acceptance is just easier than disbelief and denial. You’re my friend, as strange and impossible as that may be. I trust you.”

Satoru laughs, a touch of disbelief in his voice. “Thank you,” he replies, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “For everything.” He leans in, kissing the top of your head.

“Plus,” you say, rummaging in your tote bag, “while things may seem messy and confusing right now,” you admit, pulling out a small box, “I did bring cupcakes.”

“Cupcakes?” he repeats, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Yep,” you confirm, handing him the box. “Chocolate chip with vanilla frosting. I figured something sweet might help, even just a little.”

“I knew following you around was a good idea.”

---

Satoru is his father’s favourite son, so when the gods call, he answers.

He tries to avoid meetings like this as much as possible, but a summoning from Zeus cannot be ignored.

He stands in the throne room of Olympus, the distant rumble of thunder echoing through the halls. Marble columns stretch toward a vaulted ceiling adorned with celestial frescoes, the air heavy with the scent of ambrosia and incense. The throne, carved from solid gold and studded with precious gems, rests upon a dais, elevated above the chamber like a sentinel standing watch over its domain.

Satoru thinks it looks tacky.

Servants and lesser gods scurry about, casting furtive glances at the demigod standing in their midst. They know him by reputation — Zeus’s strongest warrior, his favoured son.

He resists the temptation to kill them all.

Time stretches on, but the wait is a familiar ritual. He is nothing more than a dog on a leash, awaiting his owner’s return.

Zeus’s arrival shatters the silence with a crash of thunder, shaking the very foundations of Olympus. The torches flare, casting wild flickers of light as the King of Gods materialises upon his throne. Seeing his father always feels like staring into a distorted mirror — the same blue eyes, the same white hair. It’s a bitter irony that he bears such a striking resemblance to the deity who holds his life in an iron grip.

“My son,” Zeus begins, his voice a deep rumble reverberating through the chamber. “You’ve been avoiding your duties.”

“I do as I am commanded, Father,” he replies. The words feel bitter on his tongue, but meetings with his father are always like this — laden with expectations, heavy with the weight of centuries-old obligations. Satoru often wondered if he ever got tired of hearing his own voice.

Zeus leans forward, eyes narrowing. “Do not think you can run from this,” he warns. “Sukuna must be faced, and it is you who must do it. You cannot shirk this responsibility.”

Satoru clenches his jaw. “When have I ever run from a fight? When have I ever lost?”  

“And yet you hesitate, you question your purpose.” Zeus counters, his tone sharp. “You are my son. This is your destiny.”

“Destiny,” he repeats, almost spitting the word. “Is that what this is? Or is it just another way to keep me bound to your will?”

Satoru is his father’s son through and through – he could never control his anger in his presence, could never hide behind a façade of humour and indifference. He hates himself for it, but he hates his father more for gifting him these traits, like some fucked-up inheritance.

Zeus’s expression hardens. “You would be wise to remember who you speak to.” He rises from the throne, his steps heavy and resonant. “This is not a matter of choice. You are bound by blood and fate. Do not let your arrogance blind you to the responsibilities you bear.”

“Responsibilities that you have imposed,” Satoru retorts. “I have never chosen this path, yet I carry its weight while the gods do nothing.”

“I assume this is the mortal’s influence, then,” Zeus says, looking down at him with disdain. “Pathetic.”

“Do not mention her,” he growls.

“You have grown attached,” Zeus observes, a hint of mockery in his tone. “You forget your place.”

“She is not just another pawn in your games.” Satoru can feel his power crawling under his skin, the air humming with electricity like a gathering storm.

He had nearly forgotten how the gods watched him, how every moment of vulnerability could be seized upon to remind him of his place. He had grown too comfortable in your presence, allowed himself to slip into a sense of normalcy that the gods did not allow for.

Zeus’s expression darkens, the air thickening with his displeasure. “She is a distraction,” he asserts, his voice cutting like a blade. “Sukuna’s threat grows stronger with each passing day, while you’ve found yourself a mortal whore.”

“Careful, Father. Keep talking like this and I will let Sukuna feast upon your lands and swallow your oceans whole,” he hisses.

Zeus’s eyes flash with divine fury. “Do not test me, Satoru. The mortal’s fate hangs in the balance of your obedience.”

“You would threaten her?” Satoru’s voice cracks like thunder.

“She is mortal,” Zeus counters coldly. “Fleeting and fragile, her existence is insignificant.”

“And it still holds more meaning than you can comprehend.”

Zeus steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “Do not mistake defiance for strength, Satoru. If you defy the will of Olympus, you will face the consequences.”

“You underestimate me, Father. Defiance is all I have left,” he seethes. “I will face Sukuna on my terms, or not at all. If you threaten her again, you will face the consequences.”

---

To Satoru, worship had always tasted bitter — rituals steeped in obligation, prayers echoing hollowly through marble halls. It has been a tangled knot of obligation and distant reverence, something to be endured rather than embraced.

And then he met you, and found a different kind of sacred.

As a child, he remembers his father telling him how he had divided humans into two, each forever longing to reunite with their other half. Satoru had scoffed at the notion then, dismissing it as another tale spun by gods to amuse themselves. But now, he wonders if perhaps there was truth in the tale after all.

“I wasn’t expecting you until later.” You smile when you see him, and Satoru wonders if this is what home feels like.

He remains quiet, his expression softening as he lifts you off your feet with ease, carrying you towards the couch. You settle onto his lap as he sits down, his arms wrapping securely around you.

The conversation with his father has left him brittle, fraying at the seams, but you always made it easier to breathe. 

You run your hands through his hair, noticing the tension in his muscles, the furrow in his brow. “What’s wrong?” you ask, concern lacing your voice.

“Nothin’, just missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you reply, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s just been a long day,” he admits.

“What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I don’t want to drag you into my mess.”

“It’s not a mess if it’s you.”

He doesn’t quite know how to respond that, so he just presses his forehead to yours, tightening his embrace.

He wonders if this was inevitable — if this is always where he was supposed to be. Here, with you, like this.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“You worried about me, sweetheart?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, cheeks flushing, “I’ll always worry about you.”

He can’t help but wonder how far that redness might spread — if it travels down your neck and across your chest, if it touches places he’s only dared to dream about.

“You’re so cute,” he hums.

He notices you look especially pretty today, though you always do. Your dress fits you perfectly — cinched at the waist and snug at the top, with a neckline that’s a bit lower than usual. Not that he should be noticing any of this, or where the fabric ends.

But he can’t help but let his gaze linger on you for longer than is appropriate, tracing the curve of your thigh where your dress has ridden up. For a moment, he’s frozen, his mind racing with thoughts of the bare skin beneath — how easy it would be to push that little dress of yours up higher. He suspects that would solve most of his problems.

But he tears his eyes away, forces himself to focus squarely on you instead.  And then you shift in his lap, and all coherent thought abandons him. He feels the heat of your body against his, the softness of your skin, how effortlessly you fit against him.

You are the only divine thing he believes in — the altar at which he willingly kneels, pleading and beseeching.

He would beg if you asked him to.

(He would do anything you asked of him.)

Satoru has always been a selfish creature; perhaps that is why he’s unable to resist you, unwilling to contemplate ever letting you go. You have become his closest friend and greatest desire. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since the moment he first met you.

He wants your hands in his hair, his fingers grazing against you, holding you down a little. He wants to push your skirt up until maybe, miraculously, you’re begging for him, too. He wants to take care of you, treat you how you deserve. Wants to feel how wet you get, the noises you’d make. He wants and wants and needs and —

“Satoru?”

“Sorry,” he says immediately, “I was just thinking about—”

Things he shouldn’t be, gazing at places he shouldn’t be, indulging in fantasies that are dangerous to entertain, especially with Zeus’s warnings ringing in his ears and Sukuna’s threat looming ever closer.

“—that Thai place down the road, want to order something?”

Casual. Normal. Perfectly in control.

(He’s decided he can’t have you sitting in his lap anymore; he worries he might accidentally set something on fire.)

---

“It’s so peaceful here.”

You’re sitting outside with him, staring up at the night sky. The stars sparkle like scattered diamonds, while the faint glow of city lights spills from below, casting a gentle haze on the horizon. It’s one of those nights where everything else seems distant and unimportant, the world shrinking down to just the two of you.

But something has shifted between you in recent months. There’s a new intensity in the way he holds you, his touch lingering longer, his gaze searching yours for something unspoken. Before, he was content with a hand resting lightly on your back, but now his grip around your waist is firm, almost possessive. He’s on edge, his body taut like a bowstring pulled too tight.

(And you really want to make him snap.)

You sometimes wonder if a constant battle rages within him, if his mortality wrestles with the divine power coursing through his veins. You see flashes of thunder in his eyes, the lightning crackle of emotions suppressed yet seething beneath the surface. It’s as if he stands at a precipice, teetering on the edge of control, where every touch, every word exchanged between you threatens to tip the balance. It both frightens and excites you, this dichotomy that makes him both ethereal and achingly human.

“I don’t think I ever want to leave,” he replies, tugging you closer to him. “And I won’t let you go anywhere, either.”

“You’re so clingy,” you say, laughing.

He grins, his fingers tracing a slow, teasing path along your waist. “Can you blame me?”

“You’re incorrigible.”

(You wish his fingers were touching other parts of you.)

“It’s not my fault you’re so pretty.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, flushing red.

“I don’t think I will, sweetheart.”

(You want to strangle and kiss him all at once – he’s always so frustrating.)

Down the hill behind you, someone is hosting a party. The faint hum of music weaves through the air, accompanied by occasional bursts of laughter. Lanterns sway gently, casting warm, shifting patterns across the dew-kissed grass. You wish all nights could be like this.

Here, with him, like this, you feel truly happy.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“Just how insane it is I even met you. How it’s even more insane that I like you.”

“You like me?” His grin is devilish.

“I’m trying to have a moment of introspection here, not inflate your ego.”

“No, no, tell me how much you like me.”

“I take it back. I barely tolerate you.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I hate you so much.”

“No you don’t, quite the opposite actually.”

“Okay, fine,” you relent, unable to suppress a smile. “Maybe I like you a little.”

His grin turns into a satisfied smirk as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Only a little?” he presses, his voice low and coaxing.

“Just enough to tolerate your cheesy lines and incessant teasing.”

He laughs, the sound rich and warm, causing a flutter in your chest. “That’s good to know.”

“I like you enough,” you say, “to want to stay here with you, too.”

“Careful,” he replies quietly, “You shouldn’t tempt me. You might find out just how much I like you back.”

Your feelings for him were beginning to feel like an oil spill; you’d let them overflow and now there was no way to clean up the mess. You’re not sure you even wanted to.

Your eyes flicker to his lips for just a second — a moment so fleeting, so small, you pray he overlooks it — but his lips curl into the smallest of smiles, and you know you’re truly fucked.

So, without thinking, without letting yourself pause and think for a second longer, you ask him a question you cannot return from:

“What if I wanted to tempt you?”

He looks at you like a predator would his prey, assessing and intense. You can’t help but think he is the most beautiful man you have ever seen.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “Would you let me kiss you?”

“I…” You’re embarrassed to realise you’re struggling to speak. His lips hover close to yours, a breath away, and you can imagine the feel of him against you, his body flush against yours. “Maybe.”

There’s a small smile playing on his lips, a blend of amusement and chastisement flickering in his eyes. “You really shouldn’t.”

His mouth traces a slow path down your neck, teasing and deliberate, but he refrains from kissing you. It’s as if he’s savouring the anticipation, drawing out the moment with a teasing, maddening patience. You wonder if he enjoys keeping you on edge like this, if he enjoys leaving a trail of heat and desperation wherever he lingers.

“Or maybe,” he continues, “you want me to kiss you?”

“Satoru,” you grumble, red-faced and wishing you could melt into the ground. “Stop teasing me.”

To his credit, he only lets out a small laugh. You genuinely think you might have murdered him otherwise, demigod or not. “I take it that’s a no, then?”

“You’re being so mean,” you whine.

“Am I, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “How about you tell me what you want?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you wonder if this is what Pandora felt like before she opened the box.

“I want you to kiss me,” you confess, both a surrender and challenge.

The moment you give him permission — the exact second — it’s as if he can’t resist any longer, pulling you close and pressing his lips against yours. Inevitable. Instinctual.

The kiss is anything but innocent; far from gentle or kind. You grasp his shirt, your fingers tightening as his hands roam appreciatively over the back of your dress. He holds you as though savouring something sacred, as if you’re the answer to a prayer he dared not utter. The world around you fades into a blur of sensations — the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the taste of him on your lips. You think you might die if he stops.

He deepens the kiss, intense and demanding, as if trying to leave a part of himself with you, to express what words alone cannot. You feel his breath hitch against your lips, a soft groan escaping as his tongue traces the line of your lower lip. There’s a hunger in the way he touches, an intensity that speaks of longing held in check for too long.

You wonder why you didn’t do this sooner — why you wasted so much time when you melt into him this easily, when your bodies fit together like they were made for this moment.

Your breath quickens, each inhale and exhale more desperate than the last. His touch sears through you like a wildfire, consuming every rational thought and making your heart race with an intensity that borders on painful. You cling to him, your fingers curling into his hair, urging him closer.

But then he breaks away, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is ragged, mirroring your own, and he brushes a strand of hair from your flushed face.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmurs.

“Why’d you stop?” you whine.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll always give you what you want.” His thumb traces the curve of your cheek. “I want to take it slow, take care of you properly.”

“I want you,” you whisper, a simple truth you cannot hide from.  

You knew that in all of the decisions in the world, he would be the most difficult. He was not something you could experiment with, not something you could predict or control — he was as wild as the winds, more myth than man, but you would choose him, again and again.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours with a hunger that matches your own. “And you’ll have me,” he vows. “We have all the time in the universe.”

---

Satoru is Zeus’s favourite child, and so the gods watch him every day.

Their gaze is unrelenting, their judgments immutable. They see his every move, his every choice. They see the shift, the subtle yet unmistakable turn of his loyalty toward mortal ties, and they want to watch the world burn.

The gods whisper among themselves, their voices carrying on the wind like a prophecy. They speak of consequences, of debts that must be paid, of balances that must be restored. They have tasted this before, have sunk their teeth into the bitter flesh of mortals who dare to defy divine decree.

They will consume you, too.

For while mortals may forget the weight of their choices, the gods do not.

Sukuna won’t, either.

“Her appearance wasn’t very clear, my king. I just saw the silhouette of her. In the first vision, she seemed young, around your age.” She responded. 

Sukuna cackled, loudly and arrogantly. Everyone around him tensed up, knowing that was not a good sign. It was never a good sign. The last time he laughed like that, it ended with multiple noblemen being sliced into little micro-pieces. 

They were pretty much dust after the fact. 

He was a cruel man indeed. It never got easier for onlookers to watch either. The only thing they could do was remember the signs and avert their eyes until the inevitable happened. And even then, sometimes he’d snap without one of his subtle warnings. 

He was unpredictable.

“So you speak of a young woman holding me on my deathbed, and you can’t even put a fucking face on her?” He scoffed. “Uraume! Get this old woman out of my face. And never allow her back onto the premises again.” He demanded. 

Everyone in the throne room let out a sigh of relief, they really thought the frail woman would be his next victim. The only reason why he let her go was because she asked him for nothing in return. She just waltzed into his damn shrine, wanting to share her visual hallucinations. He thought being delusional was enough of a punishment. 

—

It’s been a month since you started working at Sukuna’s shrine as one of the many servants. You wouldn’t even consider yourself a servant since you doubt you’d ever be serving the king directly. You were more of a cleaning lady, your given daily tasks were keeping the common areas clean and washing the dirty dishes three times a day. 

But you couldn’t complain. It was either this, or getting stoned to death by your family for getting caught in the bed of an older general. He wasn’t even that old, he was 36. It’s not like you were technically committing adultery either, Toji had multiple wives. One night of fun with him wasn’t going to do any damage. Your family was just mad that you didn’t want to be his fourth one after he brought it up as a solution. 

So, you ran off to the big, bad Sukuna’s shrine. You’ve heard many things– terrible things– about him, but you also heard he takes in workers often… so you took your chances. You’d be less likely to end up dead anyways, at least not within the next couple years. 

Besides, what was your family going to do? Barge into his territory and demand for him to hand you over? Not. At. All. They cherished their lives just as much as you cherished yours, so that was off the table. 

Luckily, you didn’t see the king when you ran into the estate that night. He was probably in bed with one of his companions. You’ve heard rumors about his concubines. They’re some of the rarest women on earth. The most beautiful women, plucked away from the most noble families in exchange for their territory's protection. 

Instead, you were met with his rather young assistant, Uraume. They couldn’t be any older than you, but they were cold. Uraume didn’t even ask any questions aside from what you wanted from Sukuna. After you asked for work and shelter, they quickly shuffled you off to an empty servant’s quarter, handed you a sweet potato for dinner, and then slammed your door shut. 

A different person woke you up the following morning, before the sun even came up. Her name was Mikoto. She was middle aged, you were guessing she was around her 40’s, and a lot warmer than Uraume. From there, she told you what your duties would be, handed you your new uniform which was just a simple off-white yukata, and then shuffled you off to the servant’s bathing room to get ready for the day. 

Sukuna had strict rules for everyone that lived and worked at the shrine. Keep your hair clean and out of your face, no dirt under your fingernails, have good posture, don’t directly look at him, and do not speak to him unless he asks– which was often never. There was more on his list of rules, but apparently those were the ones he mainly paid attention to. 

In the month you’ve worked there, you’ve only caught a glimpse of him a handful of times. 

The first time was when you and a couple of other servants were sweeping the courtyard. He had just come back from what you presumed was a battle, judging by the blood he was covered in.. and tracking some of it through the freshly sweeped areas. 

You were slow to move at first, wondering why everyone frantically got down on their knees and lowered their heads. One of the girls actually liked having your company, and forced you to get down with her before he could notice your lack of manners. 

Once you were down, your eyes were glued to the ground. You held on to your broom tightly as the sound of his footsteps suddenly came to a halt. You felt your heart drop to your stomach, silently praying that he didn’t notice your delayed bow. 

After what felt like forever of just pure silence from him and everyone in his vicinity, the sound of footsteps started again. But this time, the sound increasingly got closer to you until the king's feet were in your view.

You were so fucked.

He shuffled his stance a bit, you could tell he was observing you and you unknowingly held your breath because of it. 

“Is she new?” He asked Uraume. 

“Yes. She started this month.” They answered, as cold and uninterested as ever.

To your surprise and everyone else’s, Sukuna let out a little hum before turning on his heel and making his way back to his chambers. 

He also left a trace of blood in front of you. You couldn’t help but look at it, and followed its trail to the man that left it. 

You only saw a glimpse of it, the fluffy pink hair and his exposed back. He walked in with the top part of his robe hanging off from his waist, showing off his well defined back and the tattoos that covered it. 

He was built like a warrior, and looked younger than you’d expected, even if you didn’t see his face.

— 

The second time you saw Sukuna was near the river behind the shrine. It was early in the morning, the sun was just coming up and filling the skies with orange hues. 

You were watching the sunrise while eating your breakfast, which was the usual sweet potato. It was kind of your comfort food at that point since it was your first meal after escaping your family. It signified freedom in a way, even if you were chained to the shrine for the rest of your life. 

You were sitting at a bench that was next to an old tree that easily covered you. You were so focused on the view and thinking about other things that your mind didn't even register the footsteps that were coming up behind the tree. 

Pink and pure muscle came into view before you could even focus on it. The last person you’d expect to see in the morning was the king, who was in fact shirtless and half asleep as he made his way to the hot springs. 

You figured he was too tired to even notice you, you were sure you blended into the background when it came to him anyways. So you let your eyes linger on him as he walked past you— keeping his eyes forward. 

This was the man everyone feared?

He was young, he couldn’t be that much older than you. And despite his face being covered with tattoos as well, he was beautiful. Perfectly defined nose, piercing eyes, a strong jawline. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, and couldn’t believe he was cruel enough to punish those who’ve had the same problem. 

The world and time itself slowed down during those 4 seconds he walked past you. You put your head down once he finally did, in hopes that if he did suddenly notice your presence, he wouldn’t think that you were disrespecting him. 

The rest of the times you’ve seen were just as random as the others, but those times you were out of his view so that you could actually look at him. 

All of those times he was accompanied by someone else, whether it was walking around with Uraume or speaking to one of his concubines. Other than that, he stayed in his chambers or was out doing whatever he did. 

Which was slaughtering civilians, or at least that’s what you told yourself after the first impression you had of him. Covered in blood and all— which seemed like the norm for him.

—- 

You had finished your duties early for the morning and decided to help a couple of servants with their laundry duties. Their names were Akari and Miya. You’ve grown quite close to them during your time at the shrine. You didn’t think you’d make any friends when you first got there, but soon your interactions with them were filled with laughter. 

You’ve always hated doing laundry, but you didn’t mind helping since you were only folding robes and towels.

Your conversations were mainly just gossip, it was hard not to since life at the shrine was boring in general. Word around there spreads like a wildfire because of it. The last time you hung out with the two, they were itching to tell you all about Lady Yumi.. and her personal itch. 

Apparently the king refused to visit her for a whole month until she got her yeast infection under control, and she threatened to throw herself off of a balcony that was only 8 feet off the ground. You felt bad, but you also thought it was funny with how Miya delivered the news. But overall you felt sorry for the Lady, it’s not like people purposely choose to have yeast infections. Especially not when your sole purpose at the shrine was to fuck the king.

But you digress, it wasn’t your problem. 

The goss today was just as juicy as always. Akari just talked about how a couple of the servants fought each other over who got to serve the king his dinner the other day. And when they fought, they fucking fought. Like scratching, slapping, bared teeth– Uraume had to get in the middle of the two and ended up being the one to serve Sukuna his dinner instead. 

“Why is the fabric moving,” You wearily asked as if the two would know. 

And they didn’t, they looked just as cautious as you did. The three of you stared at the last basket, wondering if it was a ghost or if it was an animal that was making the fabric ruffle on it’s own. You hoped it was the latter, but given the king's violent tendencies, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was the former. 

You slowly got up from your seat and made your way to the piece of cotton in the basket that was still moving and yanked it off to reveal what was underneath. 

Shrieks of horror from the three of you filled the little room as a snake convulsed inside the basket, clearly pissed that its presence was suddenly revealed. 

It didn’t try to attack you— yet. But that wasn’t enough to calm any of you down. Judging by their reactions, they knew nothing of snakes either, which meant none of you knew if the fucking thing was venomous or not.

But did that really matter? No. None of you wanted to get bit in the first place. 

Your fight or flight instincts caught up to you fast, making you lunge forward to grab the snake just below it’s head to keep it from biting you or the girls. 

You quickly ran out of the room and flung the thing off the balcony and into the grassy area, leaving it for the next person to deal with— all while you, Miya and Akari continued to scream. 

That was probably the scariest moment of your life since arriving there. Even after getting the snake out of the laundry room, you were still trembling in fear and recoiling in disgust over how its skin felt on your hands. 

“If you were brave enough to grab it, why didn’t you just kill it?!” Akari was still hysterical as she asked literally the dumbest question ever. 

“Kill it?! With what?!” You spat back, just as hysterical as she was. 

“Okay let’s all just breathe. And just be thankful that the thing is gone.” Miya tried to look at the bright side, even though she was trembling more than you and Akari. 

You finally caught your breath and ended up giggling at Akari’s question as to why you didn’t kill it, making her laugh it off too. 

“How could I possibly kill something that resembles our cute lord and savior Sukuna?” You playfully said to her. 

“Stop it,” Akari clicked her tongue at your comment. She knew all about your little crush on him. It wasn’t new to her, the servants who did have the privilege of looking at him fell in love with him instantly. Even if he did verbally abuse some of them. 

“Get inside and shut the door before that thing gets in again!” Miya cut into the conversation, still shaken up and slightly appalled at how you two were able to change the subject so quickly.

Sukuna stood there in disbelief over the chaotic scene he had witnessed in a place that he thought had order and discipline. 

All he wanted that afternoon was to take a peaceful walk around the halls but that was obviously too much to ask. He saw it all. The screaming, the snake handling, the snake throwing, you insulting him and complimenting him. 

Which is a backhanded compliment in his eyes since the last thing he should be seen as is cute.

He stayed in the hall to see if you’d eventually notice him standing right behind you, but you never did. You were too occupied with your little friends.

He didn’t even know what to think of it, he was confused and appalled at the behavior. He’s always noticed you since the day you almost forgot to bow to him in the courtyard, and has consistently been able to scope you out in the crowd of servants ever since. 

He looked over the balcony to find the snake you and your little friends were deathly afraid of. He considered striking it with a flame, but decided against it because it wasn’t venomous. If anyone did get bit, they’d survive without having to use up extra medicinal resources. 

He obviously wasn’t too worried though, you clearly knew how to handle yourself. 

—-

“Do you even know why I summoned you today?” He scoffed, tapping his fingers on the armrest of his throne.

“I’m assuming it’s because I called you cute,” you nervously squeaked out with your hands and head pressed to the ground. 

You knew exactly why he summoned you, and decided to indirectly call him cute in attempts to lessen the blow. If you were on your way to the guillotine, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to at least try to weasel your way out of it.

“No.” He put his head in his hand and let out a long, rather disappointed sigh. “You compared your king to a fucking snake. I should have your tongue for that.” He reminded you of who he was, and what he was capable of.

“My deepest apologies, your majesty.” You felt like you were about to cry.

“..my king,” he corrected you while gritting his teeth. 

“My deepest apologies, my king.” You said, keeping your head down. 

Sukuna was quiet after that, smirking while looking down at you. His emotions at that moment went back and forth between annoyance and excitement. He almost let the snake incident go, but decided against it because he thought speaking to you would be quite entertaining.

And it was. This was fun. Even his concubine that was with him noticed he was enjoying himself too. If you didn’t have your head down, you would’ve noticed her death glare towards you.

“I will let you go with a warning, but this will be your only one. You may go now— don’t fucking look at me.” He spat out, causing everyone around him to tense up. 

His dismissal took you by surprise, causing you to shoot your head up at him. 

“Sorry master,” You squeaked out as you quickly made your way out of the throne room. Your second mistake at addressing him made his jaw drop. You were gone before he could even correct you again. 

You didn’t even thank him for sparing your life.

He was annoyed, confused, and honestly, a little turned on from the blatant lack of fear you had towards him. No one dared be this casual with him, yet here you were calling him cute for the second time and looking at him like there was something wrong with him for not killing you.

—

Daily life at the shrine was peaceful, unlike the horror stories you’ve heard from different villagers throughout the years. He even spared your life that one time he thought you were talking shit about him. All the servants really spent their time doing was tending to the grounds for Sukuna and whatever visitors he had. 

Your duties have changed since he summoned you, and scolded you. You’ve been tending to the flower garden at the back of the estate for the past two months now, away from most of the workers. You had no complaints, it was beautiful— situated right next to the river and away from all the others. The alone time kind of sucked but being surrounded by beauty brought a certain peace within you. It was the best you’ve felt in a long time even if you did miss your 2 friends. 

Sukuna watched from his balcony as you cut some flowers and put them in the basket. He’s been wanting to approach you for some time now, but doesn’t quite exactly know how. You were a servant, he didn’t really have business with you. But today he had the perfect reason. 

Your hair was down and in your fucking face. He couldn’t let you think you’d be able to get away with that just because you spent your days away from the others, right? That would be against the rules. That would mean he’d be giving you special treatment, something he doesn’t even give his concubines no matter how many times he’s fucked them. 

He put on his robe and giddily made his way down to the garden. He chuckled to himself wondering what would come out of your mouth this time. Would you try to compliment him again in order to avoid consequences? Or would you actually be scared this time now that you two would be alone completely. 

You looked so peaceful as he quietly approached you. You didn’t hear him walk up to you at all. Just as you were about to snip one of the spider lilies, you heard someone whisper ‘what are you doing’ in your ear.

You completely dropped to your knees and let out a blood-curdling scream thinking today was the day you’d finally have an encounter with one of the shrine’s ghosts. The sudden scream even startled him, making him jump back.

“Calm dow– I did not give you permission to. look. at. me.” He scolded. “Get up!”

“I thought you were one of the ghosts!” You threw your head back and whined. Your eyes were squeezed shut, not wanting him to yell at you again for looking at him. “I’m sorry,” You started to sniffle. 

Did he really scare you that bad? And what ghost? He wasn’t even going to entertain that.

“Are you? Stop it– right this instant. Do not start crying,” He groaned as he watched you whimper. 

“Okay,” You faintly said before taking a deep breath, trying to recollect yourself. 

Sukuna watched you, yet again, in disbelief over your lack of manners. 

“Stand up,” He ordered again, his tone less harsh this time. He slightly felt bad for scaring you. “Do you know why I’m here right now?”

“..No.” You admitted. 

“No?” He walked closer to you. “Again, I didn’t give you permission to look at me.” 

“No,” You repeat yourself. 

Sukuna started walking a circle around you, all while taking you in. He’s always enjoyed the sight of you from afar, and it was even better now that he was this close to you. His footsteps came to a complete stop when he got behind and slightly bent down. 

“Describe what you’re wearing right now,” His voice was extra low and raspy, and painfully close to your ear.

“A white yukata and brown sandals,” You answered. 

“And your hair~” He continued, now borderline teasing you. 

“Is down.”

“And in your face,” He finished the sentence. “Now tell me, is that allowed?”

“..No.”

“Are you one of those girls that need to be talked through it?” He whispered.

“Sometimes,” You said, making him snort at your honesty. 

“As much as I like your hair, and enjoy seeing it down, I can’t make an exception for you,” He reminded you before standing straight up again. 

Before you could even respond, you felt his fingers on the sides of your head. You held your breath as he started to gently tuck your hair behind your ears. He didn’t stop there. He then lightly traced the sides of your neck to collect the rest of your hair, and smiled as he watched the goosebumps quickly form on your skin. Your skin was so soft. 

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you,” He said as he realized you were holding your breath. He started to tightly twist your hair, pulled out a clip from out of nowhere, and clipped your hair up and out of your face. 

Once he was done, he told you to get back to work and walked away– leaving you stunned over what just happened. 

—

You didn’t see the king for another week after the strange encounter you had with him. You didn’t dare wear that hairclip he put on you either. It was way too nice to be a regular hair clip, and figured it belonged to one of his concubines.

Even though he didn’t scold or threaten you for having your hair down, you didn’t do it again. You figured there were eyes everywhere around the estate despite being tucked away for the majority of the day. Someone must’ve caught you and told on you. And you didn’t want the king to have to warn you a third time. 

The third time probably wouldn’t even be a warning, he’d most likely get straight to punishing. 

Once you finished making flower arrangements and setting them up in the common areas, you headed back to your room to grab your usual bathing supplies. Tending to the garden wasn’t back breaking work, but working with dirt in the sun left you reasonably dirty. 

Upon entering, you immediately see a basket filled with goods on your bed. It had haircare and body wash— luxurious ones at that. And some nuts and chocolates along with a small bottle of sake. Were you even allowed to drink?

As much as you wanted to feel excited over the gift, you were a little scared. The only one who could afford such things was the king, but you highly doubted it since he decided to have you out in the sun all day as punishment for comparing him to a snake that one time.

Fuck. Did that bastard sell you off for the night and now you had to prepare yourself? That wasn’t part of your list of duties. 

You slammed the door open and ran out to find Uraume. If that was the case, you wanted to be mentally prepared instead of having some man randomly show up to your quarters in the middle of the night.

“Uraume!” You called out, trying to catch your breath. 

“Can I help you, servant?” They calmly responded, yet made sure to emphasize the servant part so you knew your place. 

“There was a basket on my bed, what is it for?” You asked. 

“You, obviously.”

“But why? Is there anything needed of me?” You continued to ask questions, still confused as to why you have it. 

“Not at all. Just consider it a gift. You may also take the day off tomorrow, so enjoy it.” They said in the same monotone voice. 

“W-wait, who is—“ you tried to stop them as they started to walk away.

“No more questions, just accept the gift.” They still kept walking, uninterested in holding a conversation with you any longer than they already had. 

Well, at least you didn’t have to entertain anybody for tonight. And you got to have the day off tomorrow. But what was there even to do? The shrine was kind of boring. And it’s like you couldn’t leave the premises anyways, unless you wanted Sukuna to gut you like a fucking fish for attempting to escape. 

Whatever. You’d figure it out tomorrow. Maybe you’d be allowed to grab a book from the library. 

You finally bathed. The products that were gifted to you smelled amazing, unlike anything you’ve smelled before. It was a mixture of florals like jasmine, with a hint of vanilla. Something a servant should absolutely not be smelling like. But you guessed you could just avoid everyone for the rest of the night and tomorrow, the scent will probably fade by then. 

After you scrubbed all the dirt off you made your way to the hot springs. There was a schedule on who could use it. Sukuna along with higher ranking workers including the concubines were to use it in the morning and afternoon. Meanwhile, servants could use it at night. 

To your luck, it was completely empty tonight. There was a festival coming up, so you figured a most of the servants were preparing for it. You probably would’ve been on duty for it too if you hadn't been moved to the gardens. 

You stripped down and got into the spring. It was hot, but not the uncomfortable kind. Getting in it made you realize just how tense you’ve been since running away from home. You felt all the muscles in your body immediately relax, making you take in a deep breath. You made your way to the other end of the spring, laid your head on the edge of it, and closed your eyes as you let your mind wander off. 

You wondered what your family was up to, even though you really shouldn’t be. You were pretty much dead to them. It hurt to think about, you were extremely close with them before the Toji incident. At the end of the day, you had nobody to blame but yourself. You knew how strict your parents were. Despite being of age, you also knew they still wouldn’t accept you being with a man unless you were actually married. The fact that Toji was already married made the situation even ten times worse. 

You don’t even know how they found out. One day they just caught you sneaking out of his compound in the early morning, and you ran back inside to avoid them from punishing you. You agreed to marrying him at first, but it was only so that they’d calm down enough for you to sneak out. Once you got the chance, you literally ran for the hills– not once looking back as you made your way to the shrine for refuge.

You only had 10 peaceful minutes to yourself before you heard someone submerge themself into the water. Something in your gut told you not to look right away, so you didn’t.

You could immediately tell who it was from the corner of your eye. You kept your lips shut and eyes ahead of you as you rested your arms and head on the edge of spring. 

Even though you couldn’t directly look at him, you saw he was laying back with his arms resting over the same edge as you. He was dangerously close, but ignored your presence as he himself started to relax.

You turned away from him and made your way towards the stone steps to leave. Even though you still didn’t remember all the rules, you were sure staying in the hot spring with him was one of his many no-no’s.

“I didn’t say you could leave.” He said, making you freeze in place. “Get back here– goood. Wow, you actually do know how to follow directions.” His tone was filled with false enthusiasm.

You slowly made your way back to where you were, still averting your eyes from him, and once again leaned over the edge of the hot spring. 

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Did you like the basket?” 

“I did.” You softly answered. “Did you get it because I smelled bad?” You asked. 

“I— what the fuck?— no.” He scoffed at your question, incredibly offended by your sudden laxness. You were as timid as a mouse literally two seconds ago. 

“Just say thank you,” he mumbled out. 

“Thank you,” You said. You swore you heard a part of his neck snap from how fast he turned his head to look at you. 

“-my king,” you corrected yourself, drawing a sudden chuckle out of him. 

“You can look at me, if you’d like.” He quietly said, taking a sip from his cup of sake. 

“Will there be any consequences if I do?” 

“Maybe. But none that would result in death.”  

“How kind of you to spare me,” a smile tugged at your lips as you turned your head to look at him. 

He was beautiful. Even more so up close. You couldn’t tell if his bottom eyes were real. Without even thinking, you slowly raised your hand up to try to poke at it. Before you were able to do that, an extra mouth suddenly formed under it and tried to bite at you, causing you to reel your hand back. Its sudden appearance was terrifying.

Sukuna threw his head back in laughter, you weren’t scared of handling a snake but you were scared of a little extra mouth. 

Well, he could understand why it was a little scary. You probably didn’t even know of his abilities. 

“I don’t remember giving you permission to touch me, let alone try to poke my eyeball.” He tried to scold you, but failed since he couldn’t contain his laughter. The way your whole body recoiled in horror was too good. 

“S-sorry. Is it real?” You asked, slowly scooting back from him. 

“It is,” he said in a velvety tone, scooching towards you. “Aside from you accusing me of thinking that you stink, what else did you think of the basket?” He hummed out. 

You didn’t think you’d ever see this side of him, from the handful of times you’ve seen him and the stories you’ve heard of him, the man was intense. Yet here he was smiling at you and asking you questions. His sudden openness put you on edge, leaving you wondering what it was he wanted from you. 

“I thought it was nice. The products smelled good, and the treats were really tasty.” You paused, wondering if you should keep going. 

But he was clearly listening to you with intent, so you did. “I’ve actually never had chocolate before, I only had a little bit of it so I could have some more tomorrow. And the conditioner smelled so good. It made my hair really soft too.” 

He chuckled at how detailed your responses were, reaching his hand out to touch your hair. You were right, it was soft. But it was also soft the last time he touched your hair too.

Before approaching you, he already had a gut feeling that you were a talker. And his intuition so far has not failed him. But he kind of liked it– the way the words just glided right off your tongue, you were easy to listen to. It was also a change, the only one who openly spoke to him without any underlying fear aside from you was Uraume. Even the concubines feared him, not wanting to lose their place and status.

You were entertaining to be around. No wonder why all the servant girls would flock to you. Which was slightly annoying, since it kept you from doing your duties, it was half the reason why he decided to move you to the gardens. But mainly because he wanted to keep an eye on you.

He also realized this was the longest he’s ever spoken to a servant, and wondered what the fuck he was doing with his life. But yet again, you were both in a hot spring together— naked at that. 

He was clearly past whatever line he’s drawn in the past between himself and peasants. 

He leaned his head back and let out a long sigh, letting the hot water further relax his body and heart that was starting to beat a little too fast for his liking.

He didn’t want to admit it, but you were absolutely the one that old psychic spoke of. You had to be. He hasn’t even been able to fuck any of his concubines without thinking about you since he first laid his eyes on you. 

“I figured you’d like it, after being moved to garden duties.” He responded. 

“So you do think I smell bad.” You gave him a fake pout.

“For fucks sake,” He pinched his browbone. “I don’t think you smell bad,” He retorted.

You snickered at how defensive he was and it annoyed him even more since he didn’t understand what was so funny. You didn’t want to be executed on the spot, so you covered your mouth and looked away in order to contain yourself. 

“May I ask why you moved me to the garden?” You asked after clearing your throat.

“You didn’t seem like a girl who should be locked away indoors. I’m sure you’re enjoying your days frolicking with the butterflies and flowers, isn’t that right sweetheart? I saw you smiling to yourself a couple days ago.”

There he goes again with his sweet tone. He’s a king for fucks sake, one who terrorizes multiple villages and territory’s at that. 

In fact, you used to tell all the children in your village that Sukuna himself would kidnap them and eat them if they stayed outside after the sun went down. 

But your chest fluttered with excitement the more Sukuna spoke to you, he was more charming than Toji. 

Which spoke volumes. Toji didn’t even have to be intimidating to get women. He started off as a beggar and quickly got carried off the streets by an older rich woman, which was the start of his now extremely well off life. 

“I am enjoying the garden.” You said, desperately trying to ignore the fact that he was now sweet talking you. “I thought it was a punishment for talking about you.” 

“No. I would’ve gotten rid of you if it bothered me that much,” He said, a little too calmly and honestly. You could tell he wasn’t kidding either since his sentence wasn’t followed by a smirk. 

“How about I just cut to the chase here. I want you as a concubine.” Your eyes widened at the sudden request— or rather demand.

“What? W-why?” You were taken aback, and started scooting away from him as soon as those words left his lips. 

“Because I like you,” he put his hand on your waist to keep you from creating any more distance between you two. “I’ve been watching you. And I can tell when you try to steal glances at me too. You’ve looked at me way more than you should, especially for someone who’s never been given permission up until tonight.”

He tapped right next to his bottom eye, “That’s what these are for, love. Even when you think I don’t notice, I see just about everything.”

“B-but my king— im not pure,” You shamefully admit. You’ve had multiple secret relationships prior to becoming a servant here. Even you yourself had no problem admitting that it was enough to get stoned.

“Even better. Maybe you could actually please me better than the ones I already have. It gets tiring having to teach women how to fuck.” 

That piece of information did the exact opposite of what you were trying to do. But it also brought you relief that he wouldn’t try to kill you for it, like your family attempted to do.  

“Come on, you’re going to reject your king? You said it yourself, you thought I was cute.” He smirked.

He continued to move closer toward you until he finally had you cornered, towering over you. His presence was a lot, it was overwhelming, and he knew it. He basked in it and the way others would react to him. 

“I don’t know. I’m of lowbirth,” You continued to put yourself down. 

It’s not that you didn’t want him. In fact, you did want him. Who didn’t. It was the fear of what would happen if you were mixed in with his personal life. You didn’t want to end up being hacked into pieces if you said the wrong thing to him.

“I know you’re of low birth,” He wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, making you look up at him. 

“How about I persuade you a bit, hmm? Even though I really shouldn’t have to.” His hand moved lower and lower. 

“Normally, I would’ve just made this an order,” he whispered in your ear. “But lucky for you, I’m in the mood to be nice tonight.”

His other hand found its way to the back of your knee and lifted up your leg for his other hand to have better access to you. 

“My king— wait,” You breathed out as his hand kept tracing down your abdomen, holding eye contact with you. 

“I can stop anytime, little miss servant girl. Do you want me to stop?” He asked, stopping his movements. 

You shook your head saying no and looked down at his large hand. Your heart was racing and filled with anticipation. You thought you’d be celibate for the rest of your life since you basically signed it away to be a servant— yet here the king was, asking you to be a part of his little harem.

“Just relax, let me make you feel good.” He softly said, making you nod ‘yes’ and looking at him like a lost puppy.

He slowly slid two fingers into you, letting out a groan of his own. You were so tight, practically clenching around him. It left him wondering how you’d feel wrapped around his cock when he finally had you in his chambers. 

He was slow at first, working you open. His fingers were so thick and long, the stretch almost hurt but it already felt so good. You slightly jolted when he finally curled his fingers in.

“Did I find it?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer. He was toying with you and was loving every minute of it.

“Mhm,” You said, trying to quiet yourself as he slowly rubbed at it. It felt so good– too good. As if the atmosphere wasn’t already hot and foggy enough, his actions amplified it as he pumped his long digits in and out of you– focusing on that one spot that instantly made your eyes glaze over.

He chuckled and rested his forehead against yours, taking in the soft sighs and sweet sounds he drew out of you from just from his fingers alone. 

Your body took over your mind and you started rocking your hips on his hand, trying to get some sort of relief on your clit. He knew that too. Instead of circling it with his thumb, he had a better idea. 

You continued to watch his fingers disappear inside of you, and suddenly saw a mouth form on to his palm through the pristine water. Before you got a chance to freak the fuck out, he immediately pressed it against you. 

You quickly looked back up at Sukuna, who was now laughing and lewdly repeating “I knooooow” at your visible shock. 

It was obscene, the way it started lapping at you while he quickened the pace at pumping his fingers in and out of you. The thrusts were shallow so he could focus on your clit but they were deep inside of you— curling his middle and ring fingers, hitting your sweet spot continuously. 

You didn’t even get a chance to think about how morally wrong it was to have something so inhuman lapping and sucking and licking at you. It was doing such a good job at it too. 

Or he? You didn’t know, and you didn’t even care at that point– you could ask later. All you knew was your legs were close to giving out and you were close to giving out. He was pushing you over the edge and you wanted him to keep going.

It was almost embarrassing how good it was making you feel. So good that you didn’t even realize you were holding on to him to keep yourself from slipping.

Sukunas eyes filled with pride as he watched you whine and cry over just his hand alone, in such a short time. You were grabbing on to his arms so tight he felt your nails digging into his skin. 

You thought he was insane and you were an absolute mess. He watched you in amazement as he abused your sweet spots, all while you desperately tried to get ahold of yourself and failed miserably. 

“W-wait, Sukuna, im gonna—“ you cried out. He shushed you and kept going, still pressing his forehead against your as he completely wrecked you.

“Servants aren’t allowed to call me by my name.” He condescendingly spat out. “Unless, this is you agreeing to be my concubine.” 

A sadistic smile was plastered on his face and his pupils were blown the fuck out. This was the Sukuna everyone was afraid of, and he was actually losing his mind watching you fall apart right before his eyes. This was most he’s ever waited to have someone, and he internally thanked all the gods for presenting you to him– even though none of them would ever accept him. But he was sure you would.

“Ok fine— fuck — I’ll be your fucking concubine!” You finally gave in. 

Cursing at the king was punishable by death, but he let it slide.

“Are you gonna cum for your king?” He asked, speeding up the pace with his finger and tongue. 

“Y-yes, holy fuck keep going—please—“ You begged. 

“So shameless,” He chuckled. What a vulgar woman he thought you were.

But it was music to his ears. The begging, the moaning, the crying, the pleasure mixed in with a bit of terror since you had no clue what the extra mouth was. Your breathing got even more erratic and he felt your walls start to clench around his fingers for dear life. He swore you broke some skin too and drew blood from his arms.

But he’d slide that slide too.

“That’s it– just let go for me,” He hummed out. “Just think about me right now, don’t even think about anything else.” He sweetly demanded.

He crashed his lips into yours when you started to cum, soaking in the sweet sounds that were your moans. You were in the spring, but he could just feel how much you came and was starting to regret not laying you down on the ground. He wanted to see it, he wanted to be covered in it. But he’ll see it all next time. 

He let out a pleased hum while kissing you, it went from aggressive to somewhat gentle as you slowly came back to reality. He could feel the tears stream down from your cheeks as he cupped your jaw in his hands. He wiped them away, continuing to kiss you over and over again. 

You were overstimulated and sensitive, and he knew it. Might as well be somewhat sweet to you since he was the reason for it after all. 

“Your new chambers are already set up,” He said. “Uraume will be outside waiting to take you once you get dressed.” 

You nodded okay to him as he gave your forehead one final kiss, and made his way towards the stairs after. 

A wave of guilt started to crash over you, you were slightly sad that he left you all alone with your thoughts after he just completely unraveled you. You were still in a daze over what just happened, and couldn't believe you just did that with him. 

Not only that, what was that mouth thing? It was all too much, in such little time. And now, your life would be changing again since you accepted being his new concubine.

He reappeared again at the beginning of the steps to the hot spring, wearing a fresh robe and holding another robe in his hand. He gestured for you to come up from the water, and you did. He held his hand out for you to hold on to as you got out, and helped you get into the soft, clean robe after. 

He figured you wouldn’t know where they’d be since they weren’t offered to servants, and went back to get you one. Once he took you to Uraume, who was in fact waiting for you outside, he went off to wherever he went off to at night— leaving you alone again.

next part

notes: i know i said that this would be a one-shot, and in one of my asks i said that i would only stick to one-shots and drabbles outside of my other fics, i obviously failed. but whatever! hope some of you enjoyed reading this just as much as i enjoyed writing it (:

tags: @maviata @petal0o @lemonnotade @spookysoowpprince @kalulakunundrum

@honeybee54321 @yanelis-world @light-yagami-l @thejujvtsupost @tojis-ball-sack

@hanniibinsu @stainednailpolishremover @dezibou @kuro-chi69 @lozchi

@chubbzera @lvrjoon @ccwpidsblog @alwaysfreakingout @sequvoito

@numblytemporary @starlightivr @tanchosanke @sad-darksoul @shrimpy109

@fairiesthrum @corvid007 @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @hoseokslefteyebrow @weepingangelboy

@thestrawartsofreading

“Nope,” you responded. “Don’t you have a business you need to be at right now?” You asked, looking over at your clock that said 11:00 am. You slept a whole 14 hours. 

“I do,” he admitted. “The first time i tried to leave, you threw your head back and cried out ‘stooop’” He said with a shit eating smirk. “Now here we are 4 hours later.” 

You groaned. Not from embarrassment, but purely from the fact that you had to put up with his teasing so soon after waking up. 

You reached for your phone and laid your head back on his chest. He was warm and you were prepared to make excuses at how you still felt sick just so you could stay like this for a while. 

He wouldn’t believe you though. Your attitude did a complete 180 compared to yesterday, it was like night and day. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your waist without even thinking about it. It felt like second nature at that point since you’d woken up like that and still chose to lay on top of him instead of your actual bed. 

Not to mention the fact that you started playing footsies with his ankle as you typed away on your phone, responding to the text messages you’ve missed.

Yeah, he definitely wasn’t worried about what you’d think about that.

“Better. Thanks for the soup,” you said. “Sorry I made you stay the whole morning.” You added as you put your phone back down to look up at him. 

“That’s okay, we all need a day off sometimes,” he reassured you. 

“Uraume’s okay with it?” You asked, knowing they didn’t like it when Ryo pulled last minute stuff like this on them.

“Fuck no,” he admitted, causing you both to laugh. Slightly evil ones at that, knowing how mad they probably were.

If members thought you were bad, they should see what Uraumes like behind closed doors. They’re terrifying. They’ve kicked Ryo out of his own gym once, and he just accepted it and left to avoid any further conflict. 

“Hungry?” He asked, poking at your side after hearing— no, feeling your stomach rumble against him. He wasn’t surprised either, you were knocked out for a while. 

“Yeah.”

He whipped up some breakfast using whatever ingredients he could find in your kitchen. Luckily, you had the basics like eggs and toast. 

You decided to lay on the couch as he did so. It was nice, being lazy while someone made your breakfast. 

Ryo also thought it must’ve been nice, getting away with being lazy as he continued to baby you. 

You started feeling sleepy again after you finished eating, and had to reassure him that it was okay if he left and no, you weren’t going to hold him hostage like you did earlier that morning. 

You didn’t even remember doing it. 

—

It was a week later and nothings changed since you last saw Sukuna. You two have texted here and there, but you’ve been so busy trying to catch up with work that you didn’t have time to talk to anybody. 

He actually wasn’t in a rush to try to win you over either. He was enjoying this slightly weird period of time with you. 

He thought it was slightly weird because of all of the touching and cuddling that happened when he came over. It was unexpected, and you two didn’t talk about it then or after. Not that he was complaining, by all means, please touch him. 

It felt natural and it felt right. He convinced himself things would eventually fall into place.

“Yes?” You answered his phone call. 

After years of him calling you only because he needed you to do something, you’ve grown used to answering his calls like that— hence why you immediately acted like he needed something from you, instead of greeting him with a normal “hello”.

Which made him pout on the other side of the line, you made him feel like he was interrupting something, even though you were just folding your laundry. 

“Hi! It’s Yuji!” A familiar little voice declared its presence, making your heart melt instantly. 

“Hi Yuji!” You greeted him back with the same excitement, making Sukuna roll his eyes at the sudden change of tone. “Are you hanging out with your Uncle Ryo today?” You asked.

“Yes,” He paused as his uncle started whispering something to him. He thought he was being slick, but you absolutely heard what he told Yuji to say to you. 

“I miss you~” Yuji said after carefully listening to his uncle's instructions. He had no problem being told to say it too, that little boy loved you. 

“I miss you too~” You sang back, making the little boy giggle. 

Sukuna’s heart grew warm as he listened to you two talk. Yuji was a sweet and energetic kid in general, but you always managed to get him to act extra cute. 

There was another slight pause as he started to whisper something else in his ear. But this time, you couldn’t make out what he was saying. 

“Do you wanna play with me today?” Yuji asked, hoping you’d say yes even though it was his uncle's idea. 

“I would love to, is your uncle okay with that though?” You asked, knowing it was completely fine but just wanting to mess with Sukuna since he was using his nephew to get you to hang out with him. 

He totally would weaponize a child like that. 

“Yeah! It was his idea,” He exclaimed, already forgetting that you weren’t supposed to know that detail. You heard the man scoff in the background, calling Yuji a little snitch. 

“I got one of those ice cream machines the other day and we’re about to try it out,” Ryo said after he took the phone back from Yuji. “Wanna come over? We can pick you up if you want.”

“Oooo ice cream sounds good right now,” You marveled at the thought, it’s been really hot lately. “No need though, I just bought a car,” You giggled in excitement. No more buses or ubers for you.

“Wooow,” He played along with your excitement. “Look at you buying big girl things with your big girl checks,” He teased. 

“I knoow, I could’ve NEVER when I worked for you,” You teased him back. 

“I will actually charge you per scoop,” He fired back, making you laugh at how quick he was to go back to his usual attitude. 

“Yeah, okay. Anyways, I’ll be there in like 30 minutes, I’m just finishing up folding some laundry.”

“Uncle Ryo said to hurry!” Yuji yelled out, making his uncle groan again– telling him that there was no point in whispering these things to him if he was just going to turn around and tell you that he told him to say those things. 

The two started arguing before you knew it, completely forgetting that you were still on the line. 

You pulled up to his new house right at the thirty minute mark. You were glad you texted him right before leaving, this whole time you thought he still lived in his apartment and were about to drive all the way over there. It would’ve been extremely awkward knocking at a strangers door. 

You were really proud of him, not only did he get a new car and was planning on expanding his business, but he also managed to buy a house– a really nice one at that. 

It wasn’t a mansion or anything, but it was decently sized. A two story home, big front yard that was perfectly landscaped, a triple car garage, in an extremely safe neighborhood too. You could only imagine what his neighbors thought when he first moved in. Young single guy, covered in tattoos, moving into a neighborhood that was supposed to be family friendly. 

Yuji ran out of the house the moment he realized you had pulled up, with Ryo chasing after him– afraid he’d get hit by a car or something on his watch. His heartbeat settled after he saw you walking up with Yuji in your arms as he told you all about what kind of ice cream he was going to make. 

Strawberry. With sprinkles. Lots of them. You were going to eat it too.

And you absolutely would if it was something that made the kid happy. 

“Well?” Ryo asked, rather impatiently as he gestured at his house in its entirety. He’s been excited to show you the place since you said yes to coming over. 

“What a beautiful home you have Mr. Sukuna,” You dramatically said, giving the man exactly what he wanted– and more. You continued to ramble on, pointing out every single detail as he nodded after every other sentence— as if he were saying ‘that’s fucking right’.

Up until Yuji got bored of listening to the adult talk, and complained about how hungry he was and wanting ice cream now. Which was a lie, Ryo just fed him chicken nuggets an hour ago. 

He led you into the home and to the kitchen with Yuji still in your arms. The kitchen was huge with high ceilings. You thought about how unnecessary it was, but took the thought right back after you remembered the soup he cheffed you up when you were sick. 

He had all the ingredients neatly laid out on the island. He kind of went crazy when he was at the grocery store buying all of the ingredients. Not only did he get the heavy cream and strawberries needed to make the actual ice cream, but he also bought 3 different types of toppings, extra fruit, and 2 different syrups– one being chocolate and the other white chocolate. 

There was also a jar of maraschino cherries, he was actually planning on putting a cherry on top of his ice cream for his own satisfaction. 

“Don’t you think this is a lot?” You asked, to which he and Yuji collectively told you no. Both slightly frowning at you over the absurd question. 

“I already have the machine anyway,” He added. “So might as well have the kitchen stocked up for it whenever the craving kicks in.” He shrugged, justifying his impulsivity. 

What was supposed to be a group activity, turned into Sukuna making the ice cream by himself while you and Yuji sat on the floor as he drew different things for you on his canvas book that Sukuna gifted him for his birthday. 

Most of the stuff he drew was unrecognizable, making him explain to you what they were since your compliments got more and more vague.

Ryo didn’t mind. One, the process in making the ice cream was extremely simple. Two, it was better off that you were keeping Yuji entertained. 

It was better than the alternative— which would’ve been Yuji asking him nonstop questions about why he couldn’t put more sugar into the mixture, and why was the ice cream pink when strawberries were clearly red. 

Unlike most kids, Yuji crashes after having sweets instead of getting sugar high. You two didn’t even realize he fell asleep until you started hearing light snoring, you both looked at him and he was completely knocked out, leaning against you, with a sprinkle stuck on the side of his chin. 

It was hilarious, he probably won’t even remember falling asleep and will most likely wake up confused as fuck. It was getting late anyways, so it probably added on to his sleepiness and sudden depletion of energy.

“Here– give him to me,” Ryo said in a raspy whisper. You gently picked up the boy and handed him to his uncle. He carried Yuji back to his room. 

Yes, Yuji had his own room there. It was a 5 bedroom home and he was single anyway, so might as well let the kid have one. 

He walked back to find you cleaning up some of the mess the three of you made. Before you were about to start washing the dishes, he stopped you and showed you where the dishwasher was so you wouldn’t have to do any unnecessary work. It was just like old times when you worked for him. Thinking about all the ways to make your life a little easier was like second nature to him– always has been. 

“Thanks for inviting me over,” You said, taking the chance to rub the side of his arm just to see if he’d do anything about it. 

“Uhh– yeah, thanks for coming over and–” He was flustered, trying so, so hard not to stutter. “Helping me clean up.”

“Yeah, of course,” You smiled, still running your hand up and down his arm. 

It was driving him crazy, your sudden boldness. He convinced himself that the last time was a fluke, and that you were sick and delirious. 

It was not. You were testing the waters, and he swore his soul was about to leave his body with the way you were touching him, the way you were looking up at him, expecting more from him. He’d absolutely give you more, just say the words and he’ll do anything you want. 

“What do you think you’re doing rubbing up on my arm like that?” He smirked, taking a step towards you, trying to close the distance. 

“Nothing,” You cooed, tracing your finger up his arm and across his chest. “Do you not want me touching you?” You asked, stopping right in the middle of his chest as you poked at him. 

You watched his jaw clench up and his adam's apple bob as he tried to process the sudden change in your demeanor. It was fucking shameless, and he was liking it. If you were anybody else, he would’ve had you bent over the counter and crying out his name by now. Why was it so difficult with you?

“I asked you a question Ryo,” You sang out, slowly tracing your finger lower and lower. So achingly slow. He felt so weak right now, he felt like his knees were going to give out as he watched you continue to push him to the edge. 

But you kept going, praying he’d finally do something about it. You knew he could do it, he had it in him. He just needed a little bit of help, but you were sure he’d finish what you started. 

You looked up at him to find the most menacing smile– it was borderline sadistic, the look he had plastered on his face practically demanded you to keep going. 

He was going to finish what you started alright. 

“Bossy today, aren’t we?” He clicked his tongue and grabbed your wrist, pulling away your hand that was right above his belt buckle at that point. “Demanding answers from someone in their own home? Where are your manners?” He softly scolded you as he took another step forward, grabbing your chin with his other hand. 

You reveled in his sudden shift in energy, something most people would find overwhelming. He knew you were enjoying it too, the way you kept egging him on. He remembered that you enjoyed reading nasty little novels, excitement built up in his chest thinking about just how freaky you could be.

“Don’t know,” You teased. “Maybe you should teach me some.” You said, looking up at him with half lidded eyes. 

He cupped your cheeks with both hands and leaned down to rest his forehead against yours, letting out a combination of what sounded like a sigh and a laugh. 

“Open your fucking mouth,” He demanded in a sickening sweet tone. 

And you did, this side of him had you in a trance, you didn’t even react to him spitting in your mouth. 

“Now swallow– good fucking girl,” He rasped out in awe. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy, y’know that? Awe– what’s wrong? Don’t get all shy on me now.” He started to taunt you as he continued to cradle your face in his hands. 

He let go of you and swiftly bent down to grab the backs of your knees, pulling you up to sit on top of the counter. So rough, yet so gentle.

Before he even knew it, you grabbed the back of his head and pulled him towards you, crashing your lips into his. 

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t romantic. It was desperate, intense, fervent. It was 3 years worth of pent up sexual frustration that could never be relieved with a stupid fucking kiss. But he tried. 

He didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue inside your mouth, running his fingers through your hair, slightly pulling it as leaned into you. He’s never wanted anyone more than he’s wanted you. He rutted his hips against your core, making you both sighed out in relief. 

You already figured he was big, he always walked around like it slapped against his leg with each step he took. And it did. You could just feel it, he was fucking huge. You weren’t even sure if it’d fit.

He pulled his lips away from yours, his cheeks were pink and pupils slightly blown out as he took a good look at you– still in disbelief that this was happening right now. He’s dreamed about this moment for so long. 

He leaned in again and slowly started peppering kisses from your lips, all the way down to that sweet spot on your neck, right under your ear. All while he grabbed at your hips and pulled you closer towards him. He slowly licked a stripe before going back and sucking at it. You let out a moan from the way he licked, and sucked, and lightly bit at you. It was ridiculous how good of a kisser he was, how good he was with his tongue. You wished you’d done this sooner.

Fuck. If he was pulling moans out of you already from just kissing on your neck, he could only imagine the sounds you’d be making when he finally has you laid out under him– struggling to take his cock as he stretched you out– all while he talked you through it, telling you how good you were doing and how you could take it, he knew you could. 

He’d make you feel so good, pressing your knees up against your chest, giving you the slowest and deepest strokes. You’d feel it all— every vein, every throb, his piercing that would hit your sweet spot over and over and over again. The only thing you’d be able to think about is him, and how good he was fucking you. 

You both froze after hearing “UnCLe rYO” followed by whimpering in the distance. 

“I’m gonna murder myself,” He groaned, resting his head on your shoulder as you giggled and patted his back. 

Poor guy. 

He wrapped his hand around your neck and pulled you in for one last kiss before seeing what the fuck that little brat wanted— mumbling something under his breath. You didn’t quite catch it, but you did hear the words strangle and shithead.

Yuji was already turning the corner into the kitchen as you got down from the counter. He was a wreck, and struggled to get the words out as Ryo crouched down and asked him what was wrong. 

After realizing you were still there, he turned on his heel and ran straight towards you, wiping his tears and crying a tad bit harder as he buried his face in your stomach– completely ignoring his uncle, who threw his arms up wondering what he did wrong. 

Face still buried into your stomach, Yuji threw his arm back and pointed at Ryo. “H-He forgot, t-to,” He took a second to breathe so he could speak coherently. “He f-forgot to turn on my NIGHTLIGHT,” He tattled, before fully wrapping his arms around you and went back to sobbing. 

Yuji was fucking pissed. Ryo just started getting used to turning it on for him whenever he slept over. The one time he doesn’t fall asleep in his room, his incompetent uncle failed and left him to wake up in a dark room, alone. It was so dark he couldn’t even see the doorknob, which freaked him out even more.

You spent the next hour consoling him, while Ryo stood in the corner with his arms crossed since Yuji refused to talk to him. After a while you convinced him that his uncle didn’t mean it, and that Ryo would sleep in the same room as him to keep the monsters away. 

Ryo’s jaw dropped after you volunteered for him to do that, and he rolled his eyes when Yuji quickly accepted. He glared at you as he thought about having to sleep on the floor, because there was no possible way he’d fit into that tiny race car bed. 

There was no way Yuji would be sleeping in his bed either, he’s still traumatized from the time that clumsy ass kid rolled off the bed and hit the floor. 

You tucked Yuji in and said goodnight to him before leaving. Ryo pleaded with his nephew to just please let him walk you to your car, he’ll keep the lights on for fucks sake, and he allowed it after he mentioned that a monster could get you if he didn’t. 

He walked you back to your car, pouting. Not because he didn’t get to fuck you, but because he already knew he was going to wake up the next morning with his back hurting. All because you decided to basically sacrifice him for Yuji’s comfort. 

“Fuck you for that,” He groaned, pulling you into his chest and fully wrapping his arms around you. “But thank you for calming him down.”

“You’re welcome,” You sighed, breathing in the crisp night air that was mixed in with his cologne. It was a nice night, you could hear the cicadas off in the distance. “Your hearts beating really fast Ryo.”

“Fuck off,” He rested his head on top of yours. “Don’t make fun of me for something you did. I hate the way you make me feel sometimes.” He admits. 

“How do I make you feel?” You asked, voice slightly muffled from him holding you a little tighter. 

“Nervous. Helpless. Vulnerable. It’s so easy being sarcastic and making fun of you– but fuck, my chest tightens when you look into my eyes for too long. You chip away at me without even knowing it.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything to me before?” You slowly rubbed his back as he kept a tight grip on you, it seemed to do the trick when it came to getting him to open up to you. 

But that really wasn’t it, he was just tired of holding in how he felt. You two already crossed that boundary of being just friends, might as well just let it all out.

“Guess I just cared about our friendship too much to fuck it up, if you’d even call it that. I know I considered you as a friend. Plus, you had a bright future ahead of you. I figured you wouldn’t want to be with some rugged guy that owned a beat up gym.” He continued. 

Unbeknownst to a lot of people, he suffered from imposter syndrome, bad. He didn’t think he deserved the gym when he first bought it, and he still didn’t think he deserved it now after all the renovations made and the high volume of members. 

He didn’t think he deserved the new car he bought, and he didn’t think he deserved his new house– even though he worked hard for both and paid for them in full. 

He definitely didn’t think he deserved you. Not when he first laid his eyes on you, and not now even as he held you close to him.

“You’re so stupid for thinking that,” You said.

“I know,” He agreed. 

“I would’ve loved to be with someone like you then. Yeah, you’re kinda harsh– no, really harsh– but I find it kinda charming. You're funny, driven, caring,” You looked up at him and held his face as you continued to speak. “Cute~ god, you’re so attractive to me.” 

You giggled at how flustered he got. He held your wrist in place and turned his head to kiss your palm. 

“Would you still want to be with someone like me now?” He continued to look away as he asked, lips still pressed against your palm.

“Duh,” You said it like it was a no brainer, drawing a laugh out of the man. 

You had no idea how happy you were making him feel right now. Your words were laced with so much sincerity, it’s not something he was used to. 

“I think I should go now though, Yuji’s probably wondering what’s taking you so long.” You said as you pulled away from him. 

“That little cockblocks probably already knocked out again,” He groaned. “But fine. Will you text me when you get home so I know you made it back safe?” 

“Yes. I’ll see you soon Ryo,” You let him know before he pulled you in for one last, long kiss. 

He wasn’t ready to send you off, but reminded himself how lucky he got today. He wasn’t expecting any of it, not the kiss, not the spilling his heart out, or you being completely receptive of it— you even let him spit in your mouth too. He thought that shit was so hot.

“I’ll see you soon sweetheart.”

next chapter

notes: why did i edge myself like that 🧍🏻‍♀️and yes, he has a dick piercing.

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