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synopsis : satoru gojo's a real asshole. unfortunately, he's also the kind of asshole that keeps you spoiled enough to stay and desperate enough to never leave. funny how those two always seem to go hand in hand.
content warning : extremely toxic relationship • dumb and naive reader • manipulation • emotional abuse • gaslighting • degradation • humiliation • possessive behavior • coercive sexual relationship • dubious consent / coercive consent • power imbalance • financial dependence • objectification • virginity loss • bodyshaming • crying kink • oet names • kitty play • mean gojo • explicit sexual content • mdni • 18+.
GAME OVER.
Gojo threw his headphones across the room. They smacked straight into his friend’s chest with a dull thud.
"For fuck’s sake… why the hell are you cunts so fuckin' useless?"
The silence that followed was thick enough to chew. His friend rubbed the spot where the headphones hit. "Come on, man. They were actually good—"
"Good?" Gojo barked out a mean laugh, shaking his head. "Don’t make me laugh. You played like shit and now you’re defending it? Asshole."
The guy opened his mouth, then wisely closed it. What was the point, anyways? They were all spread out in Gojo’s massive room, on his expensive couch, playing on his PS5, breathing his filtered air.
Daddy’s money ran this whole damn house, and everyone knew it. Challenging him was a quick way to get tossed out on your ass. So his friend did the most sane thing, swallowing his pride straight up and stared at the floor.
Gojo shoved himself up from the couch, long legs kicking out hard enough to nail the guy dozing on the beanbag right in the ribs.
"Ouch— what the fuck, man?!" The sleeper jolted awake, blinking confused.
"Fuckin' useless. Go fuck your moms for all I care."
That one landed wrong. The only guy in the group with half a spine straightened up. "Hey. That’s too far. Watch your mouth."
Gojo froze mid-step, head turning slow like a predator catching a scent. The rest of the boys exchanged quick glances and started setting the controllers down real careful, as if any sudden movement might set him off.
"The fuck did you just say to me?" Gojo’s voice dropped into a dangerous growl, blue eyes narrowing until they looked like shards of ice.
The guy put his hands up fast. "Easy, I didn’t mean—"
He didn’t get to finish. Gojo’s glare pinned him in place. "Out. All of you. Get the fuck out of my house."
He jerked his thumb toward the door. No one argued. They scrambled up, grabbing phones, hoodies, and whatever else they’d scattered across the floor, muttering curses under their breath just quiet enough that Gojo wouldn’t hear. Nobody wanted to test whether the prick would actually swing tonight.
In under a minute the room was empty except for the low hum of the AC and the faint smell of snacks.
Gojo rolled his shoulders, already over it. He yanked open his wardrobe, pulled on a black jacket that probably cost more than most people’s rent, snatched his cap off the table, and grabbed his keys.
The anger was already cooling into something else. He thumbed open his phone, typed fast, and hit send without a second thought.
I’m coming over.
The message, of course, went unread. The supposed receiver was dead asleep, curled up in bed with that stupid teddy plushie clutched to the chest, completely unaware of the headache pulling into her apartment complex.
***
Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong.
Satoru Gojo's patience lasted exactly three rings before it snapped in half. He leaned on the doorbell again, then switched to pounding his fist against the wood hard enough to rattle the frame.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
“Fuckin' bitch, the hell she doing in there?” he muttered, stalking over to the side window and trying to peer through the blinds like some pissed off burglar.
“OPEN THE FUCKIN’ DOOR, Y/N!”
That, apparently was the magic phrase.
You snapped awake in bed, teddy plushie falling over to the floor. The knocking kept coming, angry and impatient. You scrambled up, bare feet slapping against the cool floor as you rushed to the door. Heart in your throat, you pressed your eye to the peephole.
And there he was. Satoru Gojo in all his furious glory, face flushed red, jaw locked tight like he was two seconds from kicking the door down and burning the whole damn building.
"Shit. He’s gonna kill me."
You quickly smoothed down your messy hair and tugged at your pajamas, trying to look at least halfway presentable before cracking the door open. Gojo's eyes dropped to you immediately, the kind of look reserved for people caught red-handed committing a crime.
“Where the fuck were you, bitch?” he barked, voice loud in the quiet hallway.
You flinched, lips trembling with shock. “M’sorry, Toru… I was asleep—”
“The hell are you still wearing those for?” He gestured at your baggy pajamas with clear disgust. “I told you I was coming over. Show some skin for fuck’s sake.”
Your brain was racing through every possible way you could’ve messed up. That poor little head of yours working overtime while your eyes started watering, the whites of them turning pink.
“I didn’t see it, Toru… don’t be mad. I'm sorry…” your voice cracked, tears spilling over before you could stop them.
Gojo rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. “For god’s sake, stop crying, y/n. Such a damn crybaby.”
“But you’re being so mean,” you whimpered, wiping at your damp cheeks. “I told you I was sleeping…”
He let out a long groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Ughhh, fine. Just go get changed already.”
He didn’t wait for an invitation. Gojo pushed past you like he owned the place—which, technically, he did. He gave you the apartment just so you’d have somewhere nice to live. No bills, no worries, just you waiting for him whenever he felt like blowing some load.
Win-win, he'd say. You got to live for free and spoiled, and he got a pretty dumb thing all to himself waiting for him.
He dropped onto the couch, legs spread wide, scrolling through his phone while you disappeared into the bedroom. A few minutes later the door clicked open again.
Gojo looked up slowly… and good heavens.
There you were, standing in the doorway in that white kitten fur bikini set he’d picked out himself. Tiny top barely holding your tits, bottoms sitting low on your hips, soft white kitty ears perched on your head and a matching tail swishing behind you with every nervous step. The tiny pink accents here and there made the whole thing look so cute and slutty at the same time.
Exactly what he wanted. A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips, the earlier anger melting into something hotter and darker.
In his defense, when he said he was coming over, that should've been enough. It always meant the same thing: drop whatever the fuck you’re doing and get ready for him. Pick the most scandalous set you own from all those slutty lingeries, barely-there scraps of fabric he’s filled your closet with. Each one worse (or better, depending how you look at it) than the last.
At this point you’ve got more of this shit than normal clothes, but isn’t that exactly how it’s supposed to be anyway?
He’s the man here. He protects you, provides for you, takes care of everything. All you gotta do is listen, do what he says, wear what he wants.
Your primary fucking job is to welcome him home like this. Dolled up in the little slutty set that makes his blood rush straight to his dick the second he walks through the door. So that he doesn’t just “want” to fuck you… he needs to.
He leaned back further into the couch, watching you walk over with a hungry stare, eyes dragging slow from your ears down to the soft sway of your hips and that ridiculous little tail.
Couldn't even blame himself for the way his cock jumped hard in his pants on the sight. Your tits looked so fucking soft and heavy in that tiny top, thin straps fighting for dear life just to keep them squeezed together. They bounced just right with every shy little step you took, enough to make any man with a dick bust a huge load of nut in his pants like a loser.
Yeah… he’d molded you into a perfect little slut.
You weren’t always like this, though. You swear you weren’t.
Just a clueless first-year wandering around campus, still trying to figure out where the hell the library was. That’s how you ended up pushing open the wrong classroom door at the exact wrong moment.
Satoru Gojo, the biggest asshole the campus had ever seen—pants half-down, sweet-talking some poor girl he’d spent days manipulating.
The girl’s eyes went wide when she saw you. She squeaked, yanked her skirt down, and bolted straight past you like her life depended on it.
You’d just stood there, blinking and mumbling, “Oh sorry—sorry, my bad,” before trying to close the door again.
Too fuckin' late.
Gojo had been furious. Anyone would be, right?
All that effort wasted because some dumb girl wandered in and decided to cockblock him. He’d cornered you in the empty hallway before you could even run, towering over you while you pouted and sniffled like a scared kitten.
The more you cried and stammered apologies, the harder he got. Something in that pretty, teary face flipped a switch in him. He made the decision right then and there: new prey acquired.
He eyed you up and down like fresh meat, that sharp instinct of his kicking in immediately. Because Satoru Gojo could smell virgins from a mile away. Something about the way their eyes went all wide and clueless. He saw it in you the second you walked in on him. Not a single fuckin' thought behind those pretty eyes.
He couldn’t believe his luck, honestly. Just when he thought one had slipped away from him, another one showed up. Even better, even dumber, practically offering herself up on a silver platter right in front of him. And the cherry on top? this one looked like she’d be so much easier.
“Ever been fucked?”
You blinked fast. Yup, you heard that right. First guy you ever meet on this campus and that’s his opener. No hi, no what’s your name, no you’re pretty. Straight to business.
“W—what??”
“I said…” his hand shot out, grabbing your waist hard enough to bruise as the other slid down under your skirt without any hesitation. Long fingers crawled up your thighs, rubbing slow rough circles right over your crotch through your panties. He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “Has a cock been in this hole?”
You shook your head, slow and shaky.
“Words.”
“N-nooo…”
“Mhmm. Jackpot.”
Before you could even process it, he had your wrist in a vice grip, dragging you straight to his car like you were already his. One thing led to another and yeah, he kinda took your virginity the same night.
But hey, he was supposed to get laid and you ruined it for him. Isn't it your responsibility to fix it now?
Well, it's not like you were exactly complaining, even if you were scared shitless at first. The man had a tongue like a demon. He ate your little cunt for over an hour. Sucking, licking, kissing every inch until you were leaking wet and loose enough for his monster cock to finally push in. He stretched you open so good you saw stars, crying and shaking the whole time while he laughed low in your ear and told you to take it like a good girl.
And that was just the beginning.
He fucked you the next day. And the day after. And on most days, if not every damn day after that. Turned you into his personal cocksleeve who waited in the apartment he got you just so he could have easy access whenever he got bored or pissed off.
That’s how you met Satoru Gojo.
And that’s exactly how you ended up on his lap right now, dressed like a kitty whore while he squeezed your tits and smirked up at you with the same hungry look he had back then.
“Come on, baby… what’s with the face, hmm?” he asked, rocking his hips slow under you so your pretty body moved with every lazy thrust.
You kept pouting, sniffling like a spoiled brat. “Why did you shout at me…”
“Hmm, sorry baby, my bad… I was pissed, yeah?” his fingers tugged the fur cups of your bikini top down hard, letting your fat tits spill out and bounce free. He squeezed them immediately, thumbs flicking over your nipples.
“But what did I dooo…” you whined again, curling your fingers tight into his sleeves.
This fucking bitch. All he wanted was to blow off some steam after that shitty game by pumping you full of cum, and now he had to babysit a crybaby.
Whatever. Pussy was pussy.
He faked a sweet smile and leaned in, kissing your lips soft. “Not at you, silly. How could I be mad at you?”
“You’re such a liar… you were definitely mad at me…”
The tears started pouring again in broken little sobs, even while you kept grinding your soaked cunt carefully over his bulge.
Satoru’s left eye twitched. His big hands groped your tits harder, squeezing the soft heavy flesh. He likes to call them cow titties because they were so fucking big and he says it's useless and not pretty enough to look at, only good for using like cocksleeves. He’d never admit they looked goddamn perfect on you. He gave them another rough squeeze, face turning mean enough to shut you up.
“Anything to say?” he growled, grabbing two handfuls of your ass and spreading you wide. Your clit smashed right against his rock-hard cock through the fabric.
“Toruuu—nghhh, right there…” you moaned loud, starting to bounce on him with a vision now, tits flopping left and right with every desperate jump.
“How many fuckin' times do I gotta tell you to quit acting like a damn slut, huh?” he slapped your ass hard, the sharp crack making you squeak.
“I'm sorry Toru… please… wan’ it…”
“Oh yeah?” his hands locked on your hips and started bouncing you faster, helping you rub your pussy up and down his bulge. “Want what, baby?”
“Mmm… want you… to put it in… in me… please…”
Satoru threw his head back and laughed, loud and mean. Truth be told, he wasn’t even into girls like this. He liked them scared and shy, the kind who never asked for shit so he could take his sweet time breaking them. You used to be exactly like that too… until he trained you to be a house slut. His fault, really.
“Toruuu…” you called out again, still bouncing on him so eagerly, tits jiggling everywhere. “Please…”
“That so?” he suddenly stopped you, gripping your hips hard and grinding you down tight against his cock. “Do it yourself then.”
Your eyes lit up like he’d just handed you the moon. You quickly slid your bikini bottoms to the side, yanked his boxers down, and his thick cock sprang up, slapping heavy and hot right against your bare pussy.
“Owww…”
“Aww, he’s mean, huh?” he mocked, grinning at you.
You pouted but wrapped your shaky hand around that burning meat, thick veins pulsing under your fingers. You positioned the fat head right between your soaked folds and started rubbing him against your clit. The groan he let out was so loud you almost thought he came already.
“C’mere, fuckin’ god…” he pulled you flush against his chest, arms wrapping you up tight, your legs locking around his waist. His cock trapped between your leaking pussy lips, sliding messy through all that slick.
“Toruu…”
“Shut the fuck up.”
He started snapping his hips fast, humping your wet folds, fat head catching on your hole every thrust. Your lewd moans right in his ear made him leak precum like a faucet.
“Mmm Toru… ahhh please… too much… nghh…”
You were clinging to him for dear life, nails digging in while he humped your sloppy pussy like an animal. With one loud cry you came hard all over him, gushing wet and nasty. He followed right after, painting your pussy and inner thighs in thick white streaks of cum.
“Fuckin’ nasty…” he grinned down at your fucked-out face, surprised you looked this gone just from humping. He hadn’t even put it in. He had other plans, though.
“Get off,” he said, eyes turning cold in a heartbeat.
“Hmm? but whyy??” you blinked at the sudden switch.
“I said get off me.”
You obeyed, sliding off slow and shaky. He wiped his cock clean and buckled up, grabbing his jacket like he was done with you.
“But Toruu… we…”
“Didn’t fuck? yeah. Ain’t gonna do it. Gonna go find some other bitches.” He shrugged, pulling his jacket on.
“Toru nooo— what, please I’m sorry—”
At this point you didn’t even know what you were sorry for.
“Please Toru…” Tears started streaming down your face. “Don’t leave… please, I beg you...”
He ignored you completely, walking out and slamming the door behind him leaving you as you dropped on the floor half naked, sobbing loud, wondering what the fuck you did wrong and how hard you’d have to try just so he wouldn’t go fuck other girls.
Outside, Gojo walked to his car with a big shit eating grin.
There weren’t any other bitches. Hadn’t been since the day he met you. But you didn’t need to know that. Did you?
He wanted you right there. Desperate, messy, crying on the floor, his pretty little crybaby. Trying so hard to please him, head full of him. Because, as far as Gojo was concerned, that was exactly where you belonged.
It was a perfect day. which is probably why the universe decided to send geto’s ex your way.
pairing : suguru geto x reader
content warning : explicit sexual content, public fingering, jealousy themes, possessive dirty talk, poly flirtation, light nipple play, possessive language, suggestive teasing, light voyeuristic dynamics, group affection/polyamory themes.
geto | gojo | nanami | toji
read the main series here
“Do you think this suits her ass better?”
Gojo’s voice made you flinch, he was kneeling next to your bag, holding up a red bikini like it was sacred lingerie. The bottom was a triangle of fabric, if you could even call it that. He tossed it on the bed beside five other bikinis that barely passed as clothing. He grinned over his shoulder, “I’m packing this one. It gives ‘fuck me on the sand’ energy.”
"Come on, stop it, toru..." you were blushing. Hard. Sitting on the edge of your bed, legs swinging slightly as he packed your bag for the beach trip. He was, quite literally, packing your bag. Correction: packing you into a walking wet dream.
The white one had been labeled “innocent slut vibes,” the red one “cocktease on a mission,” and the sparkly baby blue? “cute but begging to be pulled to the side.” Gojo grinned. “I think this one. let’s see if it wiggles when you walk—”
This whole thing was Gojo’s idea, obviously. You’d made the mistake of letting him take you bikini shopping yesterday, where he spent thirty minutes walking around the changing room, loudly narrating how each swimsuit would cling to your ass when wet, how your tits would bounce while running down the sand, and how he “definitely wouldn’t behave if you bent over for sunscreen.”
Nanami had refused at first. “I don’t think going for a beach trip is necessary.” That’s when Gojo had leaned in, grinning like the devil.
“Think about it, Nanamin. she’s running through the sand, tits bouncing, little bikini riding up her ass, sun hitting her skin just right and then she trips and falls into your arms all soft and giggly—”
Nanami had muttered “christ,” under his breath and said flatly, “I’m coming.”
Toji, however, had gone into full internal battle mode. He’d been pacing the living room while everyone discussed plans, muttering to himself like a man on the edge.
“Pros,” he grunted. “I get to see her in a bikini. her skin all shiny, ass bouncing, tits perfect. fuck. definitely a pro.” He paused, hands on hips. “cons. can’t jerk off watching. can’t bend her over the damn beach chair. some dipshit might talk to her and I’ll have to rip their jaw off.” He sighed, deeply. “shit. I’m conflicted.”
Back in your room now, Toji stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching Gojo dig through your drawer. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Gojo didn’t look up. “why the fuck not, old man?”
Toji scowled. “her. In a bikini. fuck. wanna see that. skin all glowy, ass bouncing around, tits nearly spilling out in that sunlight.” His eyes narrowed. “but some fucker’s gonna flirt with her or brush against her and I swear to god, I will kill someone.”
Gojo just snorted. “they wouldn’t dare. not when she’s showing up with four hunky bodyguards. we’ll just flex a little. they’ll get the message.”
Toji raised a brow. “we? bro, you look like a fuckin’ twink with sunglasses and a sunhat. nobody’s scared of you."
Gojo turned slowly. “this twink is gonna fuck our girl right infront of you if you keep talking.”
Toji stepped forward. “try me.”
They were nose to nose now, chest puffed, about three seconds away from full-blown WWE-level fighting when a third voice cut through the air and Nanami finally stepped in, “Enough.”
His voice was calm. Cold. Final. He adjusted the cuffs of his linen shirt as he glanced between them, unimpressed. “no one’s going to bother her. we’ll be there. and more importantly, don’t either of you start bothering her.”
Toji grunted. “Tch.”
Gojo rolled his eyes. “here comes the lecture.”
Nanami ignored them both. Meanwhile, Geto was at the kitchen counter, humming under his breath while slicing mangoes and laying out strawberries in a Tupperware. Not a single complaint. Just smiling faintly to himself while the others fought over what bikini would make your nipples harder.
Because of course, he’d already prepped snacks. The man was plotting your beach picnic while Gojo debated if pink made your tits look perkier, and Toji planned a massacre for any man who even looked at you. And all you could do was sit there, trying not to blush while your bag filled up with swimsuits that looked like they were made of dental floss.
Gojo turned back to the pile and held up a mesh cover-up so see-through it might as well be invisible. “so. this with the pink bikini underneath?”
He wiggled his brows. You stared at him. He winked. “bet Nanamin would call in sick just to rail you on the beach.” You choked on your spit.
Toji muttered, “keep talking like that and I will fuckin’ kill you.”
Nanami sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. Geto just grinned, humming to himself and slid fruit into a little zip-lock bag like a smug housewife. The day hasn't even started yet.
******
Nanami was driving like the responsible adult he was, hands on the wheel, sunglasses low on his nose, calm playlist humming through the speakers. Geto sat shotgun, relaxed, window down, hair tied up, arm resting lazily on the frame like this was just a sweet Sunday trip to nowhere. Meanwhile, you were sandwiched in the backseat like a goddamn treat pack, Gojo on your left, Toji on your right. And they weren’t subtle.
“Mm-mm-mm,” Gojo hummed, slipping his hand under the hem of your sundress like it was second nature. “are these the thighs that are gonna jiggle on the beach?”
Toji’s palm was already on your bare knee, sliding up slowly. “not jiggling, more like bouncing. like she’s built to distract everyone.”
“Built to ruin lives,” Gojo whispered against your ear, grinning when you tensed.
You were already warm from the sun and now your body was practically overheating, skin prickling, panties sticking, heart pounding. And you hadn’t even made it to the beach yet. Your hands were tight in your lap, thighs pressed together, trying to act normal while both men kept teasing you under the guise of "car affection."
Gojo leaned down slightly, lips brushing your shoulder. “what’s got you so quiet, bunny? cat got your tongue? or is it someone’s fingers?”
You jolted when Toji’s knuckles grazed higher, dangerously close to your core. “she’s dripping already. sea's gonna get jealous.”
You whimpered soft, shameful and caught Geto’s eyes in the side mirror. He just smirked knowingly and said to Nanami, “we might need to hose her down before we even lay the towel out.”
Nanami didn’t even blink. “keep your hands off her until we get there. or I swear, I’ll pull over and make you both walk.”
Gojo made a show of raising his hands. “sir yes sir, no touching the pretty girl. for now.”
You melted back into the seat, flushed and wet and panting quietly as the waves came into view. When the car finally stopped at the beach, you were practically dizzy from arousal and embarrassment.
Gojo opened your door with a flourish. “c’mon beach bunny,” he sang, “time to get naked—I mean changed.”
He grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward the wooden change stalls, grinning like he was about to make trouble.
“Gojo,” Nanami said sharply, appearing behind you with a vein pulsing in his temple. “let go.”
Gojo pouted. “but I packed her swimsuits, I should at least help her pick!”
Nanami swatted his hand away with enough force to make Gojo stumble, nearly toppling into the sand. “there’s a women’s changing room that way,” Nanami said firmly, pointing. “she’ll change alone.”
You nodded quickly, muttering something incoherent and jogging off before any of them could follow. Inside the changing stall, you opened the beach bag Gojo had packed. And of course, he’d packed eight bikinis. EIGHT. In various shades of whore. All strings. All tiny. One of them had rhinestones that spelled out ‘WET’ across the tits. You groaned and pulled out the most modest one, a string-tied blue triangle top with a matching thong that barely clung to your hips. You tied it up quickly, adjusting the fabric so your nipples weren’t totally visible. Though, let’s be honest, it was hopeless.
When you walked out and stepped onto the sand, you saw them all at once. Gojo, Toji, Nanami, and Geto, shirtless, glistening, abs on full display. Only Nanami had on a loose button-up, thin and light, swaying gently in the breeze.
Gojo was already rubbing sunscreen on his chest, looking like a summer god. Toji was stretching his arms overhead, back muscles flexing like he wanted to punish the sun. Geto was laying out a towel, his toned body bronzing effortlessly under the rays. And Nanami stood tall, arms crossed, looking like a man trying desperately to hold onto his dignity. His shirt hung open slightly, sunglasses shielding his eyes but not his glare. Because Gojo had clearly tried to rip Nanami’s shirt off five minutes ago. Evidence? The fact that Gojo had an icepack pressed to his face, cheeks puffed out, lips red.
“You didn’t have to punch me, Nanamin,” Gojo groaned.
Nanami didn’t even look at him. “touch me again, and I’ll bury you in the sand.”
Gojo sighed, spotting you walking toward them, and instantly perked up. “there she is,” he grinned, icepack forgotten. “looking like a damn bomb—”
Toji’s eyes dropped to your chest and his mouth twitched. “fuck.”
Geto raised his brows and handed you a bottle of cold juice. “need a minute before the beach even starts?”
You were red-faced, already overheating. "I'm fine..."
"Fuckin’ hell," Toji muttered under his breath, his voice soaked in hunger and mischief. His eyes raked over your body without an ounce of shame, zeroing in on the blue string bikini that barely counted as clothing. "you trying to kill us out here or what?"
Gojo wasn’t any better. He let out a whistle, swinging the bottle of sunscreen in lazy circles as he eyed you. "I swear, that ass needs its own postal code. Is this even legal to wear in public?"
"Public place," Nanami cut in sharply, though he didn’t even lift his gaze from where he was securing the umbrella in the sand. "try not to get arrested."
You sighed and sank into the lounge chair, brushing sand off your legs as the wind picked up again, tugging your ponytail and throwing strands into your face. You twisted your neck, trying to get it under control, but the humidity made everything worse, sticky, clinging, heavy. A shadow passed behind you. Then, gentle fingers brushed your shoulders.
"You’ll hate the tangles later," Geto said, soft-spoken and patient. He was already running his fingers through your hair, parting it into two sections. "hold still, sweetheart." There was something so calm in the way he braided. His touch wasn’t possessive, not like the others but there was a quiet fondness in it that made your chest ache.
"All pretty," he murmured once he was done, and you gave him a quiet smile. "thank you..."
But peace was short-lived. A cold shock made you flinch as sunscreen touched your lower back. "time for me to rub you down~" Gojo cooed behind you, voice far too cheerful. “c’mon, bunny. lie down.”
You lay down on your stomach, letting your chest press into the towel, cheek turned to the side. Without warning, the strings of your top went slack, the sides of your chest spilled out.
"Gojo!" Nanami’s voice was sharp now.
"I'm just applying sunscreen," Gojo replied innocently, though his hands were anything but innocent. He smirked as he re-tied your top barely and slid his palms slowly down your back.
The lotion was cold, but his touch was warm, languid, exploring. Too thorough. Fingers dipping far too low before retreating, circling places they had no business. He hummed a tune, all fake-innocence and charm, while your cheeks grew hotter by the second. Even Geto had gone back to his snacks with an amused grin, letting the chaos unfold.
Eventually, Toji had enough. With a grunt, he stood and dragged Gojo off you with one hand like a rag doll. “my turn.”
Gojo whined but gave up, already turning to drag Geto into the water with him. The two of them splashed and roughhoused like children, laughing too loudly, kicking up waves as you sat up and fixed your top properly.
That was when she appeared. She was stunning. Her bikini was scandalous, even by your standards, barely-there straps, deep cleavage, glossy skin and she made a beeline straight for Geto. Her shriek of delight echoed off the water.
“Suguruuu~ missed you so much, baby!” she flung herself into his arms like it was rehearsed.
Toji leaned in with a low, amused whistle. “Oh-hoh. you seein’ this?”
You forced a smile, tightening your grip on the edge of the lounge chair. You didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away. That easy way she laughed into Geto’s neck. How his hands steadied her automatically. The smile he gave her, fond, warm, familiar. A history you didn’t know.
“Must be an old friend,” Nanami said softly, like he could read the flicker in your expression.
You nodded, but it was empty. Your chest felt tight. Then Gojo came bounding back, flopping down next to you like he hadn’t just witnessed your heartbreak.
“Bunnnnyyy~” he grinned, resting his head in your lap with exaggerated affection. “missed ya!”
Toji looked over with a scoff. “yo, who’s the chick, huh?”
Gojo shrugged lazily. “old classmate. they used to date.”
Used to dare. The words echoed in your head. Your smile vanished completely. And then she kissed Geto’s cheek. You didn’t think. You just acted.
“Satoru,” you said quietly. “can you move your head?”
“Huh?” He looked up, confused. “but your lap’s so comfy—”
“Move. please.” you stood up, brushing your hands on your thighs. “I’m just going to the washroom.”
Gojo scrambled to follow. “wait—without me?!”
But Nanami’s hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Toji grabbed the back of his neck like scruffing a dog.
"Sit down," Nanami said flatly.
"ughhh!" Gojo slumped back dramatically. “so rude!”
You didn’t hear the rest of their arguing. You didn’t look back. The heat in your face had nothing to do with the sun now. You walked away faster than you meant to, heart tight in your chest, eyes stinging with something you didn’t want to name.
Back on the sand, Geto had just returned when Nanami’s voice cut through the sound of waves.
“Suguru,” he said, calm but firm. “you might wanna go with her.”
Geto blinked, brow furrowing. “why? Is she alright?”
Toji sighed, half-laughing. “just go, man…”
Gojo, ever the dramatic one, threw up his arms. “this isn’t fair! why does he get to go and not me? you guys are so discriminating—it’s cause I’m prettier than all of you, isn’t it?!”
Toji scooped up a fistful of sand and flung it straight into his hair.
By the time Geto caught up with you, you were already sitting alone under a tall tree, its shade casting dappled shadows over your skin. There wasn’t a single person nearby, just you, with your arms folded and your knees drawn up, pouting into the wind.
He smiled the second he saw you. Quiet, upset, and trying not to show it. He knew the look. He walked over and sank down beside you, but you turned your face away like he was invisible.
He scooted a little closer. You shifted away. So he scooted again. You moved one more time and that’s when his hand caught your wrist, gentle but firm, and pulled you into his lap in one swift movement. Your jaw hit his chest, and his arms circled your waist.
“what’s wrong?” he asked, voice low beside your ear.
“nothing,” you muttered, refusing to look at him.
“cat got your tongue?”
“there’s lipstick on your cheek,” you said flatly. “wipe that.”
He blinked, amused, then wiped it off casually. “Oh? that better?” Still no answer. He tilted his head. “my baby looks so pretty when she’s jealous.”
You huffed. “I’m not? why would—!”
He kissed you before you could finish. Deep and slow, with teeth tugging at your lower lip until it tingled. His hands cupped your jaw, then dropped to your hips, thumbs stroking over the strings of your thong. He broke the kiss, breath brushing your lips. “wanna tell me why you’re upset with me now?”
“I said I’m not,” you insisted, cheeks flushed and voice breathy. His hand slipped beneath the band of your bikini thong. One long finger slid through your folds, making you jolt in his lap. “aahh! Suguru!!”
“How about now?” he murmured, the pad of his finger circling slowly. “gonna tell me?”
Your breath hitched. “th…that’s… w-who was that girl?”
“..mmh... yeah, thought so,” he smirked, pressing another kiss to your jaw. “pretty baby. all jealous, huh?”
“I—I’m not! I was just asking!” he delivered a sharp little slap to your ass, just enough to make you gasp. “oww!”
“Try again.”
You sighed, cheeks burning. “fine… I don’t like her much.”
“there you go,” he chuckled. “she’s an ex. from college.”
“yeah… toru said.”
“Oh, did he?”
“why’d she kiss you? and why’s she calling you baby and all…?”
Another finger slipped in beside the first, and you let out a soft hiss, gripping his forearm.
“She’s a bit like Satoru,” he murmured, fingers moving in a slow rhythm. “flirty. clingy. didn’t think she was gonna do that.”
“…mmmhm… fine—aahh!”
He smiled as you squirmed against him, his fingers scissoring gently, teasing the tightest parts of you. “she said she misses me.” you clutched his arm tighter, and he chuckled in your ear. “you know what I said?”
“…what?”
“that I don’t feel the same.”
Your heart jumped a little. “…you did?”
“yeah,” he said, warm and honest.
“she… said anything else?”
“she asked if I wanted to meet her this weekend.”
Your stomach dropped again. “and…?”
“what do you think I said?” he teased, curling his fingers inside you.
“well… I don’t know…” you mumbled, pouting again. He bit your nipple through your top, making you flinch and whine. “aahhh! ouch!”
“I said I’m—” *thrust* “not—” *another thrust* “interested.”
“Suguru! ahhh—stop! please… someone will see!”
“There’s no one here, baby,” he murmured, fingers still working you open. “just you and me. and you’re soaking my hand while whining like a needy little thing.”
His hand lifted to cup your breast, thumb brushing your nipple through the thin fabric. You moaned softly, too lost in his touches to pretend otherwise. The heat coiled deep in your belly, rising fast.
“let go,” he whispered. “come for me, baby. show me how jealous you are.”
Your head fell into Suguru’s shoulder, lips parting on a trembling moan as his fingers kept up their slow, rhythmic pace. Your walls fluttered around him, too slick and swollen to resist anymore. His other hand cupped your breast, thumb lazily stroking over your hardened nipple through the thin triangle of your bikini. .
“You’re such a mess, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “all moody, just to end up dripping down my hand like this.”
You whimpered, thighs tensing as the pressure coiled again this time tighter, hotter. His fingers curled just right, finding that spot deep inside that always made your voice catch. He pressed a slow kiss behind your ear. “come for me. let me feel it. c’mon, let go for me like a good girl.”
Your body broke in waves, heat flooding your cheeks, breath catching, soft cries muffled against his throat. He slowed his hand just enough to ride you through it, murmuring praises against your skin. “That’s it. my pretty baby. always so perfect for me.”
You were still trembling when he slipped his fingers out, his arm snaking around your waist again. Before you could gather yourself, he scooped you up into his arms, bridal-style, and rose to his feet with a smirk. “let’s get you back, yeah?”
Your arms looped around his neck instinctively, face still flushed, thighs still twitching. By the time he stepped back onto the warm sand, Gojo spotted you and his eyes lit up instantly.
“OHHH! my bunny’s back!” he practically sang, making grabby hands. “Suguru, pass her here!”
Before Geto could say anything, Toji casually yanked you out of his arms like a prize being stolen. “give her, here,” he muttered.
You let out a tiny squeak, your arms now around Toji’s neck as he carried you with one hand under your thighs, the other sliding just a little too close to your ass. “Toji—!”
He didn’t answer right away, just smirked and marched straight toward the waterline. Once he reached the edge, he stepped into the shallows, then dipped you low, letting the waves splash against your skin. The cold hit your overheated body hard, making you shiver.
“mhhmm,” he drawled, voice low and thick, “bet you’re even sweeter wet like this.”
“Toji—stop—!” you giggled, pushing at his chest weakly, feeling the waves soaking you.
“Nope,” he grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “soon as we’re home, I’m dragging you into the shower. gonna bend you over the sink first, then fuck you into the mirror so you can watch yourself.”
Before you could protest, Gojo came splashing in from the side, cackling. “whoa, whoa, leave something for the rest of us, old man!”
Toji rolled his eyes but didn’t let go of you. Instead, he dunked you gently again while Gojo splashed your thighs and stomach like a child.
“Look at her—she’s glowing. we should get her wet more often,” Gojo teased, eyes glinting.
“Touch her again and I’m breaking that pretty jaw of yours,” Toji muttered.
You pushed at both of them half-heartedly, squealing as Gojo flicked water at your chest. Eventually, laughing and dripping, you pulled yourself out of the sea and walked back toward the beach chairs. Nanami was waiting, still sitting under the umbrella’s shade, book in one hand, when he looked up and saw you, he set it down and opened his arms. “C'mere.”
You didn’t hesitate, literally ran and dropped into his lap, arms sliding around his neck. One large hand rubbed soothing circles on your thigh while the other plucked a small piece of pineapple from the tray beside him.
“Open,” he murmured. you did, and he fed it to you, the sweet citrus bursting over your tongue. you hummed quietly, leaning into him. .
“Oho? pineapple, huh?” Gojo plopped beside you both, grinning wickedly. “did you know it’s supposed to make you taste sweeter? not that you needs any help in that area…”
You choked slightly, face burning, and Nanami flicked a piece of pineapple at Gojo’s forehead without even looking at him. Gojo laughed and caught it in his mouth.
Toji just shook his head and muttered, “fuckin’ idiot.”
Suguru came strolling up from behind, now freshly dried with a towel over his shoulders. He dropped a kiss to your head and whispered, “feeling better now?”
You nodded, the warmth in your chest finally matching the sunshine around you. With Nanami’s arms wrapped around you, Geto’s soft kiss still lingering, Gojo teasing beside you, and Toji grumbling like a menace in the background, you realized something.
You didn’t need a perfect beach day. You already had your favorite view: Them. All of them.
synopsis : nanami took you out for ice cream to make up for last night. gojo tagged along. but the real cherry on top? that woman from nanami’s past shows up. and she looks real trouble.
Warm friday night air clings softly to your skin, the scent of waffle cones and melted sugar floating around you as you stand before a glowing ice cream stall. The board above you lists too many flavors, all chalked up in messy cursive. Caramel, cotton candy, triple chocolate fudge, blueberry cheesecake…
You chew your bottom lip, hands folded nervously in front of you as you scan the options.“I can’t decide…” you mumble.
“Buy all of ‘em,” Gojo says immediately, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a kid on a sugar high, sunglasses pushed up into his white hair. “I’ll pay. just blink twice if you want me to fund your sweet-tooth era.”
Nanami sighs beside you. “you’re not paying.”
“Says who?” Gojo smirks. “you took her out but I’m the one who makes her smile.”
“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” Nanami mutters.
You glance up at them both, cheeks already warm. Gojo’s grin is wide and Nanami’s stoic, hands in his pockets. You shift on your feet, heart fluttering. Honestly, you’re still recovering from yesterday, bruises high on your thighs hidden under your skirt, soreness that hasn’t left. Nanami had held your trembling body all night, apologizing under his breath, lips pressed to your temple, promising—“I’ll make it up to you. this weekend. Ice cream. just us.”
Except Gojo overheard. And now here he was, ruining the peace.
“Oh, oh—try that mango one. mango makes everything better,” Gojo says, tugging lightly at your sleeve. “like, imagine it melting on your cunt while someone’s fingering you. so hot.”
You suck in a breath, eyes going wide. “t-toru!”
He just chuckles, shameless and unbothered, then leans down to whisper near your ear, “or do you prefer chocolate? because, bunny dipped in chocolate is a combo I’d pay for.”
You try not to combust on the spot. Nanami exhales deeply. “stop talking.”
Just then, a voice calls out from across the street, smooth and playful. “kento~!” Nanami turns, brows furrowed. Gojo does too.
And then her voice registers. You look just in time to see her. Tall, elegant, maybe in her early thirties, blonde waves swept back in a high twist, a sharp black blazer hugging her curves. Red lipstick. High heels. A smile that could kill.
Gojo whistles low. “damn. older women are always a blessing for my pretty eyes…”
You go quiet. Nanami's expression softens the second recognition hits. He smiles back, actually smiles and lifts a hand in greeting.
“Sweetheart,” he says gently to you, touching your shoulder. “pick something you like, hmm? I’ll be back in a minute.”
Your lips part to reply, but he's already walking across the street, not even waiting for it. Your heart sinks a little. Just a little.
Gojo keeps talking, mostly to himself. “you think she spanks men for fun? she gives off that boss lady vibe. shit, I’d let her tell me to sit, and I’d bark. proudly.”
You blink at him, mouth twitching, but your eyes keep slipping across the road. Nanami’s posture is relaxed, he’s not usually like that. The two of them talk, and she laughs, her hand brushing his forearm.
“Maybe I should get the vanilla,” you murmur, too soft.
"Mhmm you sure you're a vanilla girl?" Gojo smirks. He picks up a sample spoon, dips it into the pistachio, licks it once, then makes a face. “nah. that’s a bad head flavor. you want something creamy. like hazelnut. Or caramel. something that melts easy. so when it drips on your cunt, I can just lick…” he mimics licking it off his wrist.
You squeak, tugging at his shirt. “satoru… there are kids here…”
“These are life lessons,” he retorts with a wink.
Your attention drifts back across the road. Nanami’s laughing now. You pout slightly, eyes burning even though you tell yourself it’s nothing. Just an old friend. An ex, maybe. He’d never said. He wasn’t the type to hide things, but still… When they hug, something inside you twists. And then he’s coming back, straightening his sleeves, walking towards you.
“Have you picked?” he asks, voice smooth, eyes on you. You nod, pointing weakly to the blueberry cheesecake. Gojo hums something under his breath. You catch the words “lick” and “cream” but don’t want to ask. Nanami pays after a battle with Gojo.
You’re too quiet now, licking the corner of your spoon as you three begin walking home. Gojo talks enough for all three of you, arm slung lazily around your shoulders. You keep sneaking glances at Nanami, trying not to think of her laugh. The way he smiled at her. And beside you, Gojo’s fingers tap-tap along your shoulder, his voice low and smug.
The walk back home is filled with low chatter, Gojo is talking a mile a minute about some theory that somehow ties back to boobs and ice cream, but you don’t catch most of it. You’re quiet. Too quiet. Your fingers curl tighter around the paper cup in your hands, the ice cream inside mostly melted now. It tastes sweet on your tongue, but your expression doesn't match. You’re trying not to pout. Really, you are. But every time the image of that woman hugging Nanami flashes behind your eyes, something in your chest just drops. Gojo glances down at you as you trail beside him, head a little low.
“Hey, bunny,” he nudges you gently with his elbow. “you okay?”
You nod quickly.
“…didn’t like the ice cream, huh?”
You blink up at him. “no, it’s not that.”
“You’re pouting,” he says in your ear.
“I’m not,” you whisper back, even though you definitely are. Nanami slows his steps until he’s walking on your other side, eyes narrowing as he watches you. You don't meet his gaze.
“You cold?” he asks, already unzipping his coat.
You shake your head, but your voice betrays you. “I’m fine.”
He doesn’t listen, wrapping his coat over your shoulders anyway, hands lingering on your arms for a second longer than needed. The warmth makes you sink into the fabric without thinking.
“Thank you…” you murmur.
“You're quiet,” he says under his breath, like he’s filing that thought away.
When you reach the apartment, the door creaks open to the familiar scent of home. The living room is dim. Toji’s passed out on the couch, one arm draped over his face, mouth open slightly. Geto’s door is shut, faint music playing behind it. You toe off your shoes quietly, still wrapped in Nanami’s coat.
Gojo, of course, doesn’t know how to be quiet. The moment you try to step into your room, he squeezes in right behind you. “hey, hey—don’t shut me out. I missed you.”
“I was with you this morning, though,” you whisper, glancing at Nanami over your shoulder.
Gojo grins. “yeah, when you were bouncing on my cock and making the prettiest little sobs I’ve ever heard. doesn’t count as ‘quality time’.”
Your face turns crimson. “satoruu!!!”
He steps closer, arms ready to wrap around you, when Nanami grabs the back of his collar and yanks him out of your doorway like a misbehaving mutt.
Gojo stumbles back into the hallway. “HEY! RUDE.” Nanami slips inside your room and closes the door behind him firmly.
Gojo starts a full-blown tantrum outside. “you two are selfish! I offer free love and look what I get! used and thrown away like fuckin' trash—”
“Gojo, bed. now.” Nanami snaps.
Gojo groans. “ughhhh. fiiine. just so you know, this is why I’m emotionally distant with men.” You hear him muttering something about being “underappreciated” as he stomps off to his room.
The door clicks softly behind him. Now it’s quiet. Nanami exhales, hands loosening as he approaches you. His eyes are softer now, searching your face. “did you enjoy the ice cream?”
You hesitate, then nod.
He steps closer. “you sure you’re alright… from last night?”
You glance down at your legs, where his grip had bloomed purple over your skin. You nod again, more firm this time. “I’m okay,” you whisper.
He cups your face gently and kisses you deep, warm, lips pressing slow like he means it. You lean into him without thinking, letting his hand slide to your back. When he pulls away, his voice is low. “alright, sweetheart. get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He starts toward the door. Your heart panics, speaking before you think, with trembling voice. “..uhmm… nanami?”
He pauses, hand on the knob, looking over his shoulder. “yeah, baby?”
You shuffle in place, wringing your fingers. “I… uhh… can… can we… I-I wanna…”
His brows lift slightly as he turns to face you fully. “hmm?”
Your throat goes dry. “I wanna… do it.”
His expression shifts, amusement curving his lips, but his voice stays warm. “Oh?” he hums, stepping toward you again. “are you saying you want me to fuck you, dear?”
You nod once, face burning. He tilts your chin up with two fingers. “who am I to say no to that?”
He kisses you again, deeper, his tongue slow and thorough like he’s savoring the shape of your mouth. Then, he lifts you gently and lays you across your bed. His hands unbutton your top carefully like he’s unwrapping something rare.
“Such a shy little thing…” he murmurs, dragging his fingers down your chest. “but look at you asking for my cock. you must’ve missed it, hmm?”
You whimper softly. “… yeah.”
He smiles. “then I’ll give it to you. nice and slow.”
The room fills with soft gasps and the shuffle of fabric. Nanami’s mouth maps every inch of your skin, tongue warm, lips dragging over your neck, collarbone, breasts, thighs. He kisses every bruise he left before.
“Sorry,” he whispers each time. “you were too good… couldn’t help myself.”
He doesn’t fuck you. Not yet. First, he worships you. Hands firm on your thighs, spreading you, he licks your cunt like a man starved, slow and precise, tongue swirling around your clit, letting your moans get louder and messier until you’re writhing and clinging to the sheets. Only then does he finally slide into you inch by slow inch, watching your face the whole time.
“You always take me so well,” he breathes, groaning against your neck. “so tight like your pussy doesn’t wanna let me go.”
You’re gasping, arms around his shoulders, every stroke making your mind blur. His hips move slow and deep, kissing the ache in your belly. His hand sneaks between your legs to rub you just right, making you cry out.
“Shh, shh… I got you,” he whispers. “you’re doing so good, baby.”
By the end, your skin is slick with sweat, your thighs trembling, every nerve burning in the best way. He stays buried inside you as you both pant for air, foreheads pressed together. Then, he pulls out and gathers you close, arms snug around your waist. You’re tucked in his chest, your leg thrown over his, fingers tracing small circles on his ribs.
“…Nanamin, can I… ask you something?”
His voice was still thick with post-orgasm bliss, low and soft against your temple. "oh? what is it, dear? need something? water?"
You shook your head slowly, cheek still pressed to his chest where you could hear the steady beat of his heart. "... do you like my hair?"
He blinked, pulling back slightly to look down at you, brows slightly furrowed. "huh? yeah, baby—of course I do. your hair's just as pretty as you. why ask me that all of a sudden?"
You avoided his eyes, fiddling with a strand of your hair nervously. "nothing, just..." you mumbled, "I was wondering if I should colour it."
Nanami hummed and brought a hand to your head, threading his fingers through your hair and tugging you closer until your chest brushed against his. "hmm? why, baby? I mean, if you want to, of course. what colour do you have in mind, hmm?" he asked, voice turning warm again as he tilted his head and nuzzled into your chest. He licked over your nipple suddenly, making you jerk slightly.
"Ahhh! nghh... uhmm... do you think I’d look prettier in blonde?"
He paused to press a kiss against your tit, then glanced up. "blonde? hmm. well, I think black suits your eyes more, makes you look soft and sweet."
Another slow lick over your nipple. "but yeah, you’d still be pretty in blonde. you’d look pretty with anything."
You blinked down at him. "Ohh... hmm... okay..."
He raised an eyebrow, then chuckled softly. "why sweetheart? did gojo ask you to colour your hair?"
You quickly shook your head, lips pressing together. Nanami smirked and leaned up to kiss your lips, a slow, lingering kiss that soothed your nerves. You gently pulled away, slipping from the bed, naked still, as your eyes caught sight of his coat on the table. You padded over, slipped it over your shoulders, and hugged the fabric close. Nanami sat up on the bed, admiring the view with a soft groan.
"Nanamin… do I look good in this?"
His eyes dragged over you hungry and admiring, as he huffed a little laugh. "In a blazer? course, yeah. you look like a boss lady who’s about to ruin a man’s life."
You blushed a little, biting your lip. "s-so… does this style suit me more?"
He narrowed his eyes, sensing the undertone in your voice. "you look good in everything, baby. no matter what you wear."
You hesitated, then mumbled, "but... do you like this type of dress more than… my usual?"
Nanami stood, walking over to you completely naked, still semi-hard and completely unbothered by it. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in. "I didn’t say that," he kissed your forehead. "I said you always look pretty. whatever you wear."
You stared up at him with wide eyes before dragging him back to bed and slowly sitting on his lap, facing him skin to skin now, his cock twitching against your thigh. You curled your arms around his neck.
"Can I ask you something again?" you asked quietly. He smirked, brushing his thumb along your jaw.
"Oh? you sure have a lot of questions tonight. come on, ask me."
"Who… was that woman?"
You tried to sound casual, keeping your tone soft, neutral. But he picked up on it right away. Nanami blinked, then gave a small exhale. "an ex-colleague. we worked together for about five years."
"Were you close with her?"
"Not really. just professional stuff. I saw her today after more than a year."
Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of the coat. "are you going to see her again?"
Nanami tilted his head slightly. "she did mention grabbing a coffee sometime to catch up. why, dear?"
You looked away. "no… nothing..."
He went quiet for a moment. The silence hung in the air before you whispered again. "..umm... nanamin?"
"Yes, love?"
You took a shaky breath. "do you like... women your age more?"
He blinked, brows furrowing, before his face broke into an incredulous little chuckle. "Ohh... so this is what it’s about, huh?"
"Wh-what—" you quickly shook your head, eyes wide and cheeks burning.
"Jealous, dear?"
"I’m not—jealous! why would I be—"
"Mmmhm." he leaned in, kissing your pout. "my pretty little girl’s all possessive for me, huh?"
You looked away again. He cradled your face with one hand and murmured, "she’s just an old friend, baby. married. has kids. even if she wasn’t—it wouldn’t matter." He pulled your face back to his. "I have you. yeah?"
You looked into his eyes, soft and hopeful. "promise?" He smiled and then bit down on your nipple without warning. "ah! nanamin!"
"Promise." He grinned, lips tugging at your sensitive flesh before letting go with a wet pop. "jealousy looks real good on you, baby..." He moved to your other nipple and sucked hard, swirling his tongue. "...but you’d look even better bouncing on my cock again, wouldn’t you?"
You slapped a hand over his mouth, cheeks flushed. "don’t say that!"
He laughed against your skin, licking your palm teasingly before pulling your hand down and murmuring, "c’mon... just one more round, yeah? wanna fill you up, make sure you know who you belong to."
His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing tight. "you’re not leaving this bed till I’ve fucked that jealousy right out of you, baby."
Your breath caught in your throat as he lifted you effortlessly, lining you up on his cock again and then he paused, smirking, "still wanna question me, sweetheart? or are you ready to get fucked dumb again?"
I really love your series!! Nanami is my absolute favourite of the four, and tbh I was starting to dislike Gojo a bit before they all ganged up on him to behave 😂 I can't wait to read more!! I love how sneaky Geto is about his affection, and the way you write Toji is just perfect. If you ever feel inclined I'd love to see another nanami solo side story!!
GURLLLL IKRRRR 😩😩 Nanami is DADAAAAA.
and leave my toru alone 😭 he's literally just a baby. he's just... a little too hyper-affectionate, that's all 🫢
suguu is soooo slyyyy 😩 and such mama energy!!
tbh toji's my fav man in jjk, so I may or may not have been a little biased hehehe 🫣
as for nanami side story... its not really on my list rn, the upcoming stories are mostly gonna have everyone in them. but if I ever get a good idea for one, I'll 100% write it 😽✨
(also the next few chapters are pretty nanami-focused, just an info hehe 😋)
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synopsis : you kept your head down, kept your mouth shut, tried to act like nothing was wrong. but it was. and when they found out.. yeah. let’s just say... no one's laying a hand on you again.
read the main series here
The past few days had been hell.
You’d never really hated college before. But now, the thought of walking onto that campus made your stomach twist. And it wasn’t even because of classes or exams or bad grades. It was them.
It had started when you spoke up.
Your friend had been crying in the bathroom, shaking and barely able to speak. She told you everything, how this guy kept showing up near her department, watching her, following her home, brushing too close when no one was around. She was terrified. So you did what any decent person would. You told someone. A faculty member.
And for a few days, it actually worked.
The guy stopped coming around. Your friend smiled again. There was finally peace.
Then it started again. Only this time… the victim wasn’t her.
You noticed them the first time in the canteen. Three guys. Older, probably seniors. Not in your year, that you know. Not in your department, either. You didn’t know their names, but they knew yours. Could tell by the way they looked at you. Like they already had plans.
At first, you convinced yourself it was a coincidence. And that you were just being paranoid.
But the next day, they were there again.
Library. Canteen. Washroom corridor.
Every time you left a class, one of them was lurking just far enough not to cause a scene, but close enough to see you notice.
They didn’t touch you. Didn’t say anything either. Didn’t need to. Their eyes did enough damage. Undressing you, studying you, daring you to look away.
You never walked alone after that.
You made sure a friend was with you everywhere. You kept your head down. Told yourself it was fine. They weren’t going to do anything, anyways. Just scare you, maybe. You could handle it.
You thought about telling them.
But you knew what Toji would do. Didn't wanna make Nanami and Suguru worry. And Satoru? He’d make a scene. A loud and violent, public scene. You didn’t want that. You can handle it. You definitely can handle it.
God. How wrong you were.
***
You didn’t think much of it, honestly.
The friend who usually walked with you to the bus stop had left early. It was just a short walk. That too in broad daylight. The bus stop was usually crowded by this time. What could even happen? It’s fine, you told yourself.
But the second you turned the corner near the empty alleyway, someone grabbed you. A rough arm clamped tight around your neck, yanking you backward. Your feet stumbled over the pavement, heart slamming against your ribs, a hand over your mouth before you could scream.
“Don’t make a fuckin' sound,” someone hissed into your ear, breath hot and sour against your skin.
You froze in place. There were three of them. They had the same eyes, same smirks and the same stench of control.
One of them laughed low. “You’ve got some guts, girl. Telling on us like that.”
Another chuckled beside him. “What, thought they’d kick us out or something?”
The third stepped in front of you, his face was too close, breath hitting your cheek. “We didn’t even fuck with you, yeah? So why the fuck are you meddling?”
You tried to shake your head, lips trembling against the pressure of his palm. But their eyes were already roaming, scanning your body, undressing you with a look that made bile rise in your throat.
“Oh? Now you’re talking?” he mocked, looking down at you.
Then the first one’s gaze dipped lower, right into your cleavage, his lips curling into a sick grin. “Hm… anyway, you’re a better snack than her.” He let out a slow whistle.
“P-please… let me go…”
Another boy leaned in, tone dripping with arrogance. “So, what’s the deal with you, huh? Saw a few guys dropping you off and picking you up lately. Didn’t look like... family.”
You tried to keep your voice steady. “M-my… my roommates.”
The boy grinned, very much delighted. “Oh? Did you hear that?”
He turned to the second guy, smacking his chest. “She’s "casually" living with some guys.”
The second boy snorted. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Oh yeah. I’m thinking what you’re thinking,” the other replied, voice low and eager.
The third boy stepped closer, his face cruel and grinning. “So… how is it... do you get paid for whoring for them? Or is it just for the rent, slut?”
Your stomach turned at his words. “Mind your words!!”
“Oh?” one of them cooed, lips curling. “Little slut’s gettin angry, yeah?”
“Mind if we join sometime?” another chimed in, eyes filled with hunger. “We got cash too.”
He stepped closer, his hands coming up to boldly cupping and squeezing your breasts. “Damn… would you look at that,” he muttered to the others. “No wonder they keep you like a fucktoy… shit.”
He ignores you completely, “You can take a few more cocks, right? I mean—” his voice trailed off as his hand slid lower, trailing down your body until it reached your crotch.
You squeezed your eyes shut, silently praying it would end quickly. You wanted to raise your arms, shove him away, and run for your dear life, but your body refused to obey. Your hands stayed frozen at your sides, nails digging painfully into your palms from the sheer force of your own grip.
“St… stop. Let me go...”
“I said stop, you fuckers!”
With a surge of desperate strength, you shoved him hard. His body slammed into the opposite wall before he fell to the ground.
SLAP.
Hot pain bloomed across your cheek. Your head snapped to the side, vision blurring from the impact. Your knees buckled, and the arm around your neck tightened.
They laughed at you. Tears started streaming down your cheeks. Their face was blank. Not even a hint of guilt, not a flicker of shame, just amusement at your pain.
“This is your last warning, babe,” one of them sneered at you. “Don’t fuck with us again. And tell your little friend to pick up my calls, yeah?”
Then his hand cupped your face rough, fingers digging into your skin and before you could flinch, he leaned in, pressing a harsh, unwanted kiss to your neck. He inhaled your scent staying there for a bit.
“Mmm… that’s for remembering me when you go home to whore around.”
Then they shoved you against the alley wall like trash. Their laughter echoed behind you as they walked off. Loud and victorious.
You stood there in silence, the air around you thick and suffocating. A deep chill had settled into your bones, leaving you cold and numb, as if you can't escape from the horror of what had just happened. Your legs trembled beneath you, unsteady and weak, while your heart hammered relentlessly against your ribs. The sting on your cheek burned hot where his hand had struck you, the skin pulsing with heat that only deepened the shame twisting inside.
You had no sense of how long you remained frozen in that spot. But eventually, you forced yourself to move. You stumbled toward the bus stop, keeping your head low, arms wrapped around yourself. No one noticed. No one asked.
Just you… and the heavy weight of what just happened.
By the time you reached the apartment, your hands were shaking. You stared at the keypad for a second before fumbling in the code, fingers barely doing what you wanted them to.
It was quiet. No one was home yet. The lights were off, and the silence only made the fear louder.
You didn’t even care to change. Just walked straight to your room and collapsed onto your bed. The blanket felt too cold and too warm at once. Your body curled in tight.
And then you started crying. Small, broken sobs muffled into your pillow, the kind that left your throat raw and your soul wrung out. Eventually, sleep took you. Not because you felt better, but because your body gave up.
The knocking pulled you from sleep.
“Y/n… baby? still sleeping?”
Suguru’s voice, unmistakably. You blinked, blearily glancing at your phone. 7:04 PM.
Shit.
They were all home by now. You sat up slowly, body still heavy and the ache in your cheek had dulled, but you didn’t have to check the mirror to know the bruise was there.
Still… you looked. Great.
The faint imprint of his palm bloomed across your cheek. It wasn't dark yet, but obvious enough. You pulled your collar to check your neck. Luckily, it looked fine, there were no bruises.
“I’m gonna shower,” you called out. “Be out in a bit.”
Suguru hummed his acknowledgment from behind the door and left.
You stepped into the shower and let the water run hot. By the time you came out, the mark was still there. Your fingers hovered over your makeup pouch. You already knew what would happen if they saw.
So you did what you could. Little bit of concealer and powder. Something light but just enough. Just enough to cover the truth.
You stared at yourself in the mirror for a second longer, forcing your expression to settle into something neutral. Then you walked out to the living room.
The TV was playing some music. Satoru was sprawled on the couch, arms wide open the second he saw you.
“Bunnnyyyyyy!” he beamed. “You slept like a log! I missed you! Come ‘ere!”
You felt something soften inside you for the first time all day. Without thinking, you ran to him, crawling into his lap and curling into his chest. His arms locked around you tight, his scent wrapping around your shoulders like a blanket.
“Awww, did you miss me too, bunny?” he cooed, peppering kisses all over your face. “Sooo cute.”
You smiled small and tired.
Then Toji’s voice cut through the room. “Yo. Why the fuck are you wearing makeup at home?”
You hesitated just long enough to rack your brain for the best excuse you could think of. “Uhmm… I didn’t… It’s from morning.”
He narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "Then why's your hair wet? Didn’t you just shower? And your makeup’s still on?”
You didn’t respond to that.
“Lie better, baby.”
“What's going on?” Geto asked from the other end of the couch, his voice was calm, but there was a bite under it.
“No… nothing,” you said, waving it off too fast.
Toji scoffed. “Tch. Come on, just tell us. What you hiding?”
“It's nothing. Really. Let’s just watch TV.”
Gojo tilted your chin gently, studying your face. “But your eyes… they’re red. Bunny, did you cry?”
“Me? No…” you forced a small laugh. “I just slept a lot. Maybe that’s why.”
“Hmm…” Gojo hummed, unconvinced, but he didn’t push you any further.
But Toji definitely did. “You done joking, or gonna tell us what the fuck’s going on?”
“I’m just tired, Toji,” you said, voice a little too thin. “I need some water.”
Before anyone else could speak, you pushed yourself off Satoru’s lap and headed to the kitchen.
Nanami was in the kitchen, quietly stirring something on the stove when you walked in. The smell of dinner spread softly through the space.
He glanced at you briefly, then turned off the burner, reaching for a glass. Without a word, he handed you water and kissed your temple. “You look… tired, baby. Something happened?”
You shook your head quickly. “No… nothing, Nanamin. I swear.”
He didn’t say anything, just looked at you with those calm and steady eyes. The kind of look that meant no bullshit will be tolerated here. And for some reason… that broke you. Your chest crumpled and the tears came hard ugly, messy and unstoppable.
Nanami froze, startled at the sight before him.
“Hey—hey, sweetheart…” he whispered, setting the glass down to pull you into his arms. “What’s wrong? Don’t cry, love… please.”
You wrapped your arms around him tightly, sobbing into his shirt, tears soaking the fabric near his heart. He held you with both hands, stroking your hair gently, letting you fall apart in the safety of his embrace.
“Please,” he murmured, his voice low and pained. “Tell me what’s bothering you, baby. I can’t know otherwise, right, love?”
You couldn’t answer. Just more tears. Your entire body shaking with it.
Nanami exhaled through his nose. “Alright,” he whispered. “Come on—you’ll tire yourself out. Let’s wash your face.”
He guided you to the sink, running the tap, cupping water in his hands to gently splash your cheeks, then wiping it with a towel.
And that’s when he saw it.
His movements stopped completely. The warm touch left your skin, the silence thickening in the air.
“Y/n,” he said in a strange voice. “What’s this?”
Panic seized your chest. You instinctively tried to turn, to run away from him, but the moment you spun around, you collided into a wall of muscle at the kitchen doorway.
Toji's hand caught your wrist tight. “Yo. Where you running off—”
The rest of his sentence never came. His gaze caught on your face and then dropped to the bruise Nanami had so carelessly exposed.
“The fuck is that on your face, Y/n?”
The question came out far louder than he meant it to, sharp enough to fill the entire apartment. Gojo and Geto came rushing in from the living room at full speed, faces alert, instantly reacting to Toji’s tone.
“What happened?” Gojo called out, voice laced with panic. “What's going on?”
“Is she hurt?” Geto's voice cut in.
Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.
Fuck.
No more hiding it now. It was too late.
“Mind telling us what the fuck is wrong, Y/n?” Toji’s voice was sharp and boiling over, all fire.
“Toji,” Nanami said sternly, “Don’t. She’s already scared, poor thing.”
Toji’s jaw visibly clenched. “I fuckin' asked her a million times. And she didn’t fuckin’ tell me.” His hand was still holding your wrist, his grip on you tighter than ever.
“I understand,” Nanami said, steady and commanding. “Just shut up for now and let her speak.”
“Come on, baby,” Geto murmured from behind you. “Who hurt you?”
You looked up at him. His voice was soft, but his face unreadable and still.
Gojo hadn’t said a word yet. But when you glanced over… His fists were clenched white. Knuckles bone-tight. His face was blank, eyes sharp and glassy, staring holes into the wall like he was barely holding himself together.
You swallowed hard, preparing yourself. And then you spoke. The words came out broken, cracked between hiccuped sobs, voice barely more than a whisper. You told them everything. About them. About what happened. About what they did. Then… you told them about today.
Your voice was shaking while you continued. “They… threatened me..… t-touched me, and they hit me, and said…” you swallowed the bile rising in your throat. “S-said horrible… things.…about me living here.....”
You looked down, eyes burning like hell, the tears dripping freely. “I didn’t… know what to do. I w-was scared. I didn’t want you to be mad. I—I’m sorry…”
For a long moment, the apartment was silent, just the sound of your breathing, sharp and broken.
Then Toji let go of your wrist, his hands curling into fists at his sides, shoulders tensed like a beast about to lunge.
“Where.” His voice was low, trembling with restraint. “Where are those fuckers.”
Nanami stepped beside you instantly, arm wrapping around your shoulders, holding you with the calmness of someone barely containing his own fury. He kissed your temple again. “You did nothing wrong, love. You were brave.”
You'd be lying if you said you didn't notice the way his jaw clenched like stone. His expression stayed unreadable, but his eyes had turned cold.
“Give me names,” he said.
Geto was the quietest. He pulled you toward him gently, cradling your face. His thumb brushed over the fading concealer on your cheek, exposing the bruise beneath. His eyes didn’t blink. “They touched you?”
You nodded, barely.
He exhaled through his nose. “I see.” And just like that, he turned to them. “Gonna need a few addresses.”
Satoru didn’t speak for a long time. He walked up to you slowly, like he was in a trance, then dropped to his knees in front of you. Hands reaching up to cradle your thighs, your hips, his forehead resting against your stomach. You could feel how his shoulders were shaking.
When he finally looked up, his voice was hoarse. “I let this happen.”
“No—no, Toruu, you didn’t—”
“I let this happen,” he repeated, eyes shining but sharp. “I wasn’t there.... I wasn't fuckin' there to protect you...”
You could see how his breathing getting heavier, his grin gone. His gaze had that strange glint you’d only seen once, and it had scared even Toji.
“They’re dead,” he said. “They’re fuckin' dead.”
“Do you know something about them, love?” Nanami’s voice was quiet. Careful.
“I… I don’t know much,” you mumbled, wiping your face with trembling fingers. “They’re seniors… and… I think they live in the college dorms. I’m not sure.”
Geto moved closer, bending down just slightly in front of you to face you. “How do they look?”
“One of them had bleached hair. Really tall. He’s got an ear piercing.” Your hand instinctively reached up, fingers brushing over your sore cheek. “He’s the one who…”
You didn’t even finish the sentence.
Toji’s voice snapped across the air like a whip. “Why the hell would you keep something like this to yourself?”
His tone wasn’t just angry. It was hurt, like your silence had punched him in the gut.
“Toji, That’s not— I was just… please understand—”
“What else, huh?” he growled, stepping forward, fury rolling off him in waves. “Think I’m a scaredy cat to slice some boys up? trust me… I’ve done more than that.”
“Toji,” Geto interrupted, calm but sharp, “let’s not scare her.”
But before either of them could say more, Satoru suddenly stood like something had snapped inside him. He didn’t say anything. Walked straight to the counter, snatched the car keys, and tossed them at Toji.
“Toji,” he said with a flat voice. “Take the car.”
Toji caught it midair with a dark grin. “Finally.”
Then he was gone, slipping out the door with a low curse under his breath. Gojo followed right behind him, not even sparing a word, his steps too calm to be safe. Nanami reached upto you and gently pulled your head into his chest again.
Geto stood there for another second, watching the two of them disappear out of his sight.
Nanami finally looked up at him. “Go with them,” he said flatly. “Or those two are gonna end up in a fuckin' jail cell.”
Geto let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “...Yeah. Yeah, alright.”
Without another word, he headed for the door. Then it clicked shut behind him. Leaving just you and Nanami.
The apartment suddenly felt a whole lot quieter, and your knees buckled a little from exhaustion.
Nanami sat with you on the couch, pulling you into his lap, tucking your head under his chin. His fingers found your hair, gentle and slow, stroking through the strands like a lullaby.
“It’s okay, love,” he murmured. “You’re safe now. They’re not gonna hurt you again.”
You sniffled again, hands gripping his shirt, your face still warm from crying.
“Just breathe,” he whispered softly in your ear. “I’ve got you.”
And you did.
***
Somewhere amidst the warmth of Nanami’s hand in your hair, you must’ve fallen asleep again. When you stirred awake, the apartment was dark and quiet. The low flicker of the TV still on. Your eyes blinked open slowly, and you shifted slightly.
Satoru was curled up at your feet, arms wrapped around your calves, face buried in the hem of your blanket.
“T—toru?” you whispered, voice still a little hoarse.
He stirred instantly, blinking up at you, eyes puffy with sleep. And… there was a bandage across his nose.
Your stomach dropped in an instant. “D-did they… did they hit you?”
“Not them, bunny,” he grumbled, groaning as he sat up and glared across the room. “This was Toji fuckin’ Fushiguro.”
Your head snapped up. “What?”
Toji, sprawled across the other end of the couch, let out a dismissive scoff. “Oii, ain't like I meant to hit him,” he grunted. “Should've kept his ass outta my swing.”
“Fuck you, Toji,” Gojo shot back.
“Guys…” you said, voice a little too weak. “What did you all do?”
Geto who was leaning lazily on the armrest, gave you a soft smile. “It’s fine, baby. We took care of it, okay?”
He stood, walking over to you and brushing your hair from your face. “Take a day off tomorrow. I’ll stay with you. Keep you company, alright?”
Gojo immediately perked up. “What?! I’m staying home too! I wanna be with bunny!”
Toji rolled his eyes at him. “Stop using her as an excuse to skip work, you lazy ass.”
“Ahh, look who’s talking,” Gojo said, stretching his arms dramatically.
Gojo pouted softly, then turned to you, blinking up with wide, shimmering eyes. “Bunnnny… can I sleep with you tonight? Just wanna make sure you’re okay. Please? please? please? pretty please?”
You smiled for the first time in what felt like forever and then gave him a small nod.
Gojo lit up immediately, the worry melting off his face as he shuffled closer and wrapped both arms around your waist, practically clinging to you while you leaned into him without a second thought.
You didn't go to college the next day.
Or the one after that.
By the time the weekend came and went, you finally convinced yourself it was okay to go back.
Even then, your hands wouldn't stop trembling as you walked through the campus gates on monday morning. You caught yourself glancing over your shoulder every few minutes. Every unfamiliar voice made your chest tighten. Every group of people had you looking twice.
But... Nothing.
No one waiting outside your lecture hall. No eyes following you through the canteen. No footsteps behind you in the library. Not even a glimpse of them.
You almost started believing it was over.... until that evening.
You were leaving campus, bag slung over your shoulder, phone in hand. The sky was pink and fading into purple.
And then he appeared. The tall one. With the piercings bleached hair.
He was standing a few steps away from the college gate. The moment you noticed him, you stopped. His head stayed lowered the entire time, like he couldn't even bring himself to meet your eyes.
He looked... awful.
One arm hung in a sling. His lip was split. One eye was swollen nearly shut, purple bruises blooming across what little skin you could still see.
“S-sorry...” he swallowed hard, still refusing to look up.
“W-won't do it again,” he stammered. “I swear... j-just... please... tell them... tell them I said sorry.”
Silence stretched between the two of you. You didn't answer him. After a long moment, you gave the smallest nod before turning around and walking away.
Somehow... your steps felt just a little lighter this time. Now your heart wasn’t racing with fear anymore. It was steady.
Because you knew you were safe. Because you had them.
synopsis : satoru gojo's a real asshole. unfortunately, he's also the kind of asshole that keeps you spoiled enough to stay and desperate enough to never leave. funny how those two always seem to go hand in hand.
content warning : extremely toxic relationship • dumb and naive reader • manipulation • emotional abuse • gaslighting • degradation • humiliation • possessive behavior • coercive sexual relationship • dubious consent / coercive consent • power imbalance • financial dependence • objectification • virginity loss • bodyshaming • crying kink • oet names • kitty play • mean gojo • explicit sexual content • mdni • 18+.
GAME OVER.
Gojo threw his headphones across the room. They smacked straight into his friend’s chest with a dull thud.
"For fuck’s sake… why the hell are you cunts so fuckin' useless?"
The silence that followed was thick enough to chew. His friend rubbed the spot where the headphones hit. "Come on, man. They were actually good—"
"Good?" Gojo barked out a mean laugh, shaking his head. "Don’t make me laugh. You played like shit and now you’re defending it? Asshole."
The guy opened his mouth, then wisely closed it. What was the point, anyways? They were all spread out in Gojo’s massive room, on his expensive couch, playing on his PS5, breathing his filtered air.
Daddy’s money ran this whole damn house, and everyone knew it. Challenging him was a quick way to get tossed out on your ass. So his friend did the most sane thing, swallowing his pride straight up and stared at the floor.
Gojo shoved himself up from the couch, long legs kicking out hard enough to nail the guy dozing on the beanbag right in the ribs.
"Ouch— what the fuck, man?!" The sleeper jolted awake, blinking confused.
"Fuckin' useless. Go fuck your moms for all I care."
That one landed wrong. The only guy in the group with half a spine straightened up. "Hey. That’s too far. Watch your mouth."
Gojo froze mid-step, head turning slow like a predator catching a scent. The rest of the boys exchanged quick glances and started setting the controllers down real careful, as if any sudden movement might set him off.
"The fuck did you just say to me?" Gojo’s voice dropped into a dangerous growl, blue eyes narrowing until they looked like shards of ice.
The guy put his hands up fast. "Easy, I didn’t mean—"
He didn’t get to finish. Gojo’s glare pinned him in place. "Out. All of you. Get the fuck out of my house."
He jerked his thumb toward the door. No one argued. They scrambled up, grabbing phones, hoodies, and whatever else they’d scattered across the floor, muttering curses under their breath just quiet enough that Gojo wouldn’t hear. Nobody wanted to test whether the prick would actually swing tonight.
In under a minute the room was empty except for the low hum of the AC and the faint smell of snacks.
Gojo rolled his shoulders, already over it. He yanked open his wardrobe, pulled on a black jacket that probably cost more than most people’s rent, snatched his cap off the table, and grabbed his keys.
The anger was already cooling into something else. He thumbed open his phone, typed fast, and hit send without a second thought.
I’m coming over.
The message, of course, went unread. The supposed receiver was dead asleep, curled up in bed with that stupid teddy plushie clutched to the chest, completely unaware of the headache pulling into her apartment complex.
***
Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong.
Satoru Gojo's patience lasted exactly three rings before it snapped in half. He leaned on the doorbell again, then switched to pounding his fist against the wood hard enough to rattle the frame.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
“Fuckin' bitch, the hell she doing in there?” he muttered, stalking over to the side window and trying to peer through the blinds like some pissed off burglar.
“OPEN THE FUCKIN’ DOOR, Y/N!”
That, apparently was the magic phrase.
You snapped awake in bed, teddy plushie falling over to the floor. The knocking kept coming, angry and impatient. You scrambled up, bare feet slapping against the cool floor as you rushed to the door. Heart in your throat, you pressed your eye to the peephole.
And there he was. Satoru Gojo in all his furious glory, face flushed red, jaw locked tight like he was two seconds from kicking the door down and burning the whole damn building.
"Shit. He’s gonna kill me."
You quickly smoothed down your messy hair and tugged at your pajamas, trying to look at least halfway presentable before cracking the door open. Gojo's eyes dropped to you immediately, the kind of look reserved for people caught red-handed committing a crime.
“Where the fuck were you, bitch?” he barked, voice loud in the quiet hallway.
You flinched, lips trembling with shock. “M’sorry, Toru… I was asleep—”
“The hell are you still wearing those for?” He gestured at your baggy pajamas with clear disgust. “I told you I was coming over. Show some skin for fuck’s sake.”
Your brain was racing through every possible way you could’ve messed up. That poor little head of yours working overtime while your eyes started watering, the whites of them turning pink.
“I didn’t see it, Toru… don’t be mad. I'm sorry…” your voice cracked, tears spilling over before you could stop them.
Gojo rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. “For god’s sake, stop crying, y/n. Such a damn crybaby.”
“But you’re being so mean,” you whimpered, wiping at your damp cheeks. “I told you I was sleeping…”
He let out a long groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Ughhh, fine. Just go get changed already.”
He didn’t wait for an invitation. Gojo pushed past you like he owned the place—which, technically, he did. He gave you the apartment just so you’d have somewhere nice to live. No bills, no worries, just you waiting for him whenever he felt like blowing some load.
Win-win, he'd say. You got to live for free and spoiled, and he got a pretty dumb thing all to himself waiting for him.
He dropped onto the couch, legs spread wide, scrolling through his phone while you disappeared into the bedroom. A few minutes later the door clicked open again.
Gojo looked up slowly… and good heavens.
There you were, standing in the doorway in that white kitten fur bikini set he’d picked out himself. Tiny top barely holding your tits, bottoms sitting low on your hips, soft white kitty ears perched on your head and a matching tail swishing behind you with every nervous step. The tiny pink accents here and there made the whole thing look so cute and slutty at the same time.
Exactly what he wanted. A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips, the earlier anger melting into something hotter and darker.
In his defense, when he said he was coming over, that should've been enough. It always meant the same thing: drop whatever the fuck you’re doing and get ready for him. Pick the most scandalous set you own from all those slutty lingeries, barely-there scraps of fabric he’s filled your closet with. Each one worse (or better, depending how you look at it) than the last.
At this point you’ve got more of this shit than normal clothes, but isn’t that exactly how it’s supposed to be anyway?
He’s the man here. He protects you, provides for you, takes care of everything. All you gotta do is listen, do what he says, wear what he wants.
Your primary fucking job is to welcome him home like this. Dolled up in the little slutty set that makes his blood rush straight to his dick the second he walks through the door. So that he doesn’t just “want” to fuck you… he needs to.
He leaned back further into the couch, watching you walk over with a hungry stare, eyes dragging slow from your ears down to the soft sway of your hips and that ridiculous little tail.
Couldn't even blame himself for the way his cock jumped hard in his pants on the sight. Your tits looked so fucking soft and heavy in that tiny top, thin straps fighting for dear life just to keep them squeezed together. They bounced just right with every shy little step you took, enough to make any man with a dick bust a huge load of nut in his pants like a loser.
Yeah… he’d molded you into a perfect little slut.
You weren’t always like this, though. You swear you weren’t.
Just a clueless first-year wandering around campus, still trying to figure out where the hell the library was. That’s how you ended up pushing open the wrong classroom door at the exact wrong moment.
Satoru Gojo, the biggest asshole the campus had ever seen—pants half-down, sweet-talking some poor girl he’d spent days manipulating.
The girl’s eyes went wide when she saw you. She squeaked, yanked her skirt down, and bolted straight past you like her life depended on it.
You’d just stood there, blinking and mumbling, “Oh sorry—sorry, my bad,” before trying to close the door again.
Too fuckin' late.
Gojo had been furious. Anyone would be, right?
All that effort wasted because some dumb girl wandered in and decided to cockblock him. He’d cornered you in the empty hallway before you could even run, towering over you while you pouted and sniffled like a scared kitten.
The more you cried and stammered apologies, the harder he got. Something in that pretty, teary face flipped a switch in him. He made the decision right then and there: new prey acquired.
He eyed you up and down like fresh meat, that sharp instinct of his kicking in immediately. Because Satoru Gojo could smell virgins from a mile away. Something about the way their eyes went all wide and clueless. He saw it in you the second you walked in on him. Not a single fuckin' thought behind those pretty eyes.
He couldn’t believe his luck, honestly. Just when he thought one had slipped away from him, another one showed up. Even better, even dumber, practically offering herself up on a silver platter right in front of him. And the cherry on top? this one looked like she’d be so much easier.
“Ever been fucked?”
You blinked fast. Yup, you heard that right. First guy you ever meet on this campus and that’s his opener. No hi, no what’s your name, no you’re pretty. Straight to business.
“W—what??”
“I said…” his hand shot out, grabbing your waist hard enough to bruise as the other slid down under your skirt without any hesitation. Long fingers crawled up your thighs, rubbing slow rough circles right over your crotch through your panties. He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “Has a cock been in this hole?”
You shook your head, slow and shaky.
“Words.”
“N-nooo…”
“Mhmm. Jackpot.”
Before you could even process it, he had your wrist in a vice grip, dragging you straight to his car like you were already his. One thing led to another and yeah, he kinda took your virginity the same night.
But hey, he was supposed to get laid and you ruined it for him. Isn't it your responsibility to fix it now?
Well, it's not like you were exactly complaining, even if you were scared shitless at first. The man had a tongue like a demon. He ate your little cunt for over an hour. Sucking, licking, kissing every inch until you were leaking wet and loose enough for his monster cock to finally push in. He stretched you open so good you saw stars, crying and shaking the whole time while he laughed low in your ear and told you to take it like a good girl.
And that was just the beginning.
He fucked you the next day. And the day after. And on most days, if not every damn day after that. Turned you into his personal cocksleeve who waited in the apartment he got you just so he could have easy access whenever he got bored or pissed off.
That’s how you met Satoru Gojo.
And that’s exactly how you ended up on his lap right now, dressed like a kitty whore while he squeezed your tits and smirked up at you with the same hungry look he had back then.
“Come on, baby… what’s with the face, hmm?” he asked, rocking his hips slow under you so your pretty body moved with every lazy thrust.
You kept pouting, sniffling like a spoiled brat. “Why did you shout at me…”
“Hmm, sorry baby, my bad… I was pissed, yeah?” his fingers tugged the fur cups of your bikini top down hard, letting your fat tits spill out and bounce free. He squeezed them immediately, thumbs flicking over your nipples.
“But what did I dooo…” you whined again, curling your fingers tight into his sleeves.
This fucking bitch. All he wanted was to blow off some steam after that shitty game by pumping you full of cum, and now he had to babysit a crybaby.
Whatever. Pussy was pussy.
He faked a sweet smile and leaned in, kissing your lips soft. “Not at you, silly. How could I be mad at you?”
“You’re such a liar… you were definitely mad at me…”
The tears started pouring again in broken little sobs, even while you kept grinding your soaked cunt carefully over his bulge.
Satoru’s left eye twitched. His big hands groped your tits harder, squeezing the soft heavy flesh. He likes to call them cow titties because they were so fucking big and he says it's useless and not pretty enough to look at, only good for using like cocksleeves. He’d never admit they looked goddamn perfect on you. He gave them another rough squeeze, face turning mean enough to shut you up.
“Anything to say?” he growled, grabbing two handfuls of your ass and spreading you wide. Your clit smashed right against his rock-hard cock through the fabric.
“Toruuu—nghhh, right there…” you moaned loud, starting to bounce on him with a vision now, tits flopping left and right with every desperate jump.
“How many fuckin' times do I gotta tell you to quit acting like a damn slut, huh?” he slapped your ass hard, the sharp crack making you squeak.
“I'm sorry Toru… please… wan’ it…”
“Oh yeah?” his hands locked on your hips and started bouncing you faster, helping you rub your pussy up and down his bulge. “Want what, baby?”
“Mmm… want you… to put it in… in me… please…”
Satoru threw his head back and laughed, loud and mean. Truth be told, he wasn’t even into girls like this. He liked them scared and shy, the kind who never asked for shit so he could take his sweet time breaking them. You used to be exactly like that too… until he trained you to be a house slut. His fault, really.
“Toruuu…” you called out again, still bouncing on him so eagerly, tits jiggling everywhere. “Please…”
“That so?” he suddenly stopped you, gripping your hips hard and grinding you down tight against his cock. “Do it yourself then.”
Your eyes lit up like he’d just handed you the moon. You quickly slid your bikini bottoms to the side, yanked his boxers down, and his thick cock sprang up, slapping heavy and hot right against your bare pussy.
“Owww…”
“Aww, he’s mean, huh?” he mocked, grinning at you.
You pouted but wrapped your shaky hand around that burning meat, thick veins pulsing under your fingers. You positioned the fat head right between your soaked folds and started rubbing him against your clit. The groan he let out was so loud you almost thought he came already.
“C’mere, fuckin’ god…” he pulled you flush against his chest, arms wrapping you up tight, your legs locking around his waist. His cock trapped between your leaking pussy lips, sliding messy through all that slick.
“Toruu…”
“Shut the fuck up.”
He started snapping his hips fast, humping your wet folds, fat head catching on your hole every thrust. Your lewd moans right in his ear made him leak precum like a faucet.
“Mmm Toru… ahhh please… too much… nghh…”
You were clinging to him for dear life, nails digging in while he humped your sloppy pussy like an animal. With one loud cry you came hard all over him, gushing wet and nasty. He followed right after, painting your pussy and inner thighs in thick white streaks of cum.
“Fuckin’ nasty…” he grinned down at your fucked-out face, surprised you looked this gone just from humping. He hadn’t even put it in. He had other plans, though.
“Get off,” he said, eyes turning cold in a heartbeat.
“Hmm? but whyy??” you blinked at the sudden switch.
“I said get off me.”
You obeyed, sliding off slow and shaky. He wiped his cock clean and buckled up, grabbing his jacket like he was done with you.
“But Toruu… we…”
“Didn’t fuck? yeah. Ain’t gonna do it. Gonna go find some other bitches.” He shrugged, pulling his jacket on.
“Toru nooo— what, please I’m sorry—”
At this point you didn’t even know what you were sorry for.
“Please Toru…” Tears started streaming down your face. “Don’t leave… please, I beg you...”
He ignored you completely, walking out and slamming the door behind him leaving you as you dropped on the floor half naked, sobbing loud, wondering what the fuck you did wrong and how hard you’d have to try just so he wouldn’t go fuck other girls.
Outside, Gojo walked to his car with a big shit eating grin.
There weren’t any other bitches. Hadn’t been since the day he met you. But you didn’t need to know that. Did you?
He wanted you right there. Desperate, messy, crying on the floor, his pretty little crybaby. Trying so hard to please him, head full of him. Because, as far as Gojo was concerned, that was exactly where you belonged.
synopsis : satoru gojo's a real asshole. unfortunately, he's also the kind of asshole that keeps you spoiled enough to stay and desperate enough to never leave. funny how those two always seem to go hand in hand.
content warning : extremely toxic relationship • dumb and naive reader • manipulation • emotional abuse • gaslighting • degradation • humiliation • possessive behavior • coercive sexual relationship • dubious consent / coercive consent • power imbalance • financial dependence • objectification • virginity loss • bodyshaming • crying kink • oet names • kitty play • mean gojo • explicit sexual content • mdni • 18+.
GAME OVER.
Gojo threw his headphones across the room. They smacked straight into his friend’s chest with a dull thud.
"For fuck’s sake… why the hell are you cunts so fuckin' useless?"
The silence that followed was thick enough to chew. His friend rubbed the spot where the headphones hit. "Come on, man. They were actually good—"
"Good?" Gojo barked out a mean laugh, shaking his head. "Don’t make me laugh. You played like shit and now you’re defending it? Asshole."
The guy opened his mouth, then wisely closed it. What was the point, anyways? They were all spread out in Gojo’s massive room, on his expensive couch, playing on his PS5, breathing his filtered air.
Daddy’s money ran this whole damn house, and everyone knew it. Challenging him was a quick way to get tossed out on your ass. So his friend did the most sane thing, swallowing his pride straight up and stared at the floor.
Gojo shoved himself up from the couch, long legs kicking out hard enough to nail the guy dozing on the beanbag right in the ribs.
"Ouch— what the fuck, man?!" The sleeper jolted awake, blinking confused.
"Fuckin' useless. Go fuck your moms for all I care."
That one landed wrong. The only guy in the group with half a spine straightened up. "Hey. That’s too far. Watch your mouth."
Gojo froze mid-step, head turning slow like a predator catching a scent. The rest of the boys exchanged quick glances and started setting the controllers down real careful, as if any sudden movement might set him off.
"The fuck did you just say to me?" Gojo’s voice dropped into a dangerous growl, blue eyes narrowing until they looked like shards of ice.
The guy put his hands up fast. "Easy, I didn’t mean—"
He didn’t get to finish. Gojo’s glare pinned him in place. "Out. All of you. Get the fuck out of my house."
He jerked his thumb toward the door. No one argued. They scrambled up, grabbing phones, hoodies, and whatever else they’d scattered across the floor, muttering curses under their breath just quiet enough that Gojo wouldn’t hear. Nobody wanted to test whether the prick would actually swing tonight.
In under a minute the room was empty except for the low hum of the AC and the faint smell of snacks.
Gojo rolled his shoulders, already over it. He yanked open his wardrobe, pulled on a black jacket that probably cost more than most people’s rent, snatched his cap off the table, and grabbed his keys.
The anger was already cooling into something else. He thumbed open his phone, typed fast, and hit send without a second thought.
I’m coming over.
The message, of course, went unread. The supposed receiver was dead asleep, curled up in bed with that stupid teddy plushie clutched to the chest, completely unaware of the headache pulling into her apartment complex.
***
Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong.
Satoru Gojo's patience lasted exactly three rings before it snapped in half. He leaned on the doorbell again, then switched to pounding his fist against the wood hard enough to rattle the frame.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
“Fuckin' bitch, the hell she doing in there?” he muttered, stalking over to the side window and trying to peer through the blinds like some pissed off burglar.
“OPEN THE FUCKIN’ DOOR, Y/N!”
That, apparently was the magic phrase.
You snapped awake in bed, teddy plushie falling over to the floor. The knocking kept coming, angry and impatient. You scrambled up, bare feet slapping against the cool floor as you rushed to the door. Heart in your throat, you pressed your eye to the peephole.
And there he was. Satoru Gojo in all his furious glory, face flushed red, jaw locked tight like he was two seconds from kicking the door down and burning the whole damn building.
"Shit. He’s gonna kill me."
You quickly smoothed down your messy hair and tugged at your pajamas, trying to look at least halfway presentable before cracking the door open. Gojo's eyes dropped to you immediately, the kind of look reserved for people caught red-handed committing a crime.
“Where the fuck were you, bitch?” he barked, voice loud in the quiet hallway.
You flinched, lips trembling with shock. “M’sorry, Toru… I was asleep—”
“The hell are you still wearing those for?” He gestured at your baggy pajamas with clear disgust. “I told you I was coming over. Show some skin for fuck’s sake.”
Your brain was racing through every possible way you could’ve messed up. That poor little head of yours working overtime while your eyes started watering, the whites of them turning pink.
“I didn’t see it, Toru… don’t be mad. I'm sorry…” your voice cracked, tears spilling over before you could stop them.
Gojo rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. “For god’s sake, stop crying, y/n. Such a damn crybaby.”
“But you’re being so mean,” you whimpered, wiping at your damp cheeks. “I told you I was sleeping…”
He let out a long groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Ughhh, fine. Just go get changed already.”
He didn’t wait for an invitation. Gojo pushed past you like he owned the place—which, technically, he did. He gave you the apartment just so you’d have somewhere nice to live. No bills, no worries, just you waiting for him whenever he felt like blowing some load.
Win-win, he'd say. You got to live for free and spoiled, and he got a pretty dumb thing all to himself waiting for him.
He dropped onto the couch, legs spread wide, scrolling through his phone while you disappeared into the bedroom. A few minutes later the door clicked open again.
Gojo looked up slowly… and good heavens.
There you were, standing in the doorway in that white kitten fur bikini set he’d picked out himself. Tiny top barely holding your tits, bottoms sitting low on your hips, soft white kitty ears perched on your head and a matching tail swishing behind you with every nervous step. The tiny pink accents here and there made the whole thing look so cute and slutty at the same time.
Exactly what he wanted. A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips, the earlier anger melting into something hotter and darker.
In his defense, when he said he was coming over, that should've been enough. It always meant the same thing: drop whatever the fuck you’re doing and get ready for him. Pick the most scandalous set you own from all those slutty lingeries, barely-there scraps of fabric he’s filled your closet with. Each one worse (or better, depending how you look at it) than the last.
At this point you’ve got more of this shit than normal clothes, but isn’t that exactly how it’s supposed to be anyway?
He’s the man here. He protects you, provides for you, takes care of everything. All you gotta do is listen, do what he says, wear what he wants.
Your primary fucking job is to welcome him home like this. Dolled up in the little slutty set that makes his blood rush straight to his dick the second he walks through the door. So that he doesn’t just “want” to fuck you… he needs to.
He leaned back further into the couch, watching you walk over with a hungry stare, eyes dragging slow from your ears down to the soft sway of your hips and that ridiculous little tail.
Couldn't even blame himself for the way his cock jumped hard in his pants on the sight. Your tits looked so fucking soft and heavy in that tiny top, thin straps fighting for dear life just to keep them squeezed together. They bounced just right with every shy little step you took, enough to make any man with a dick bust a huge load of nut in his pants like a loser.
Yeah… he’d molded you into a perfect little slut.
You weren’t always like this, though. You swear you weren’t.
Just a clueless first-year wandering around campus, still trying to figure out where the hell the library was. That’s how you ended up pushing open the wrong classroom door at the exact wrong moment.
Satoru Gojo, the biggest asshole the campus had ever seen—pants half-down, sweet-talking some poor girl he’d spent days manipulating.
The girl’s eyes went wide when she saw you. She squeaked, yanked her skirt down, and bolted straight past you like her life depended on it.
You’d just stood there, blinking and mumbling, “Oh sorry—sorry, my bad,” before trying to close the door again.
Too fuckin' late.
Gojo had been furious. Anyone would be, right?
All that effort wasted because some dumb girl wandered in and decided to cockblock him. He’d cornered you in the empty hallway before you could even run, towering over you while you pouted and sniffled like a scared kitten.
The more you cried and stammered apologies, the harder he got. Something in that pretty, teary face flipped a switch in him. He made the decision right then and there: new prey acquired.
He eyed you up and down like fresh meat, that sharp instinct of his kicking in immediately. Because Satoru Gojo could smell virgins from a mile away. Something about the way their eyes went all wide and clueless. He saw it in you the second you walked in on him. Not a single fuckin' thought behind those pretty eyes.
He couldn’t believe his luck, honestly. Just when he thought one had slipped away from him, another one showed up. Even better, even dumber, practically offering herself up on a silver platter right in front of him. And the cherry on top? this one looked like she’d be so much easier.
“Ever been fucked?”
You blinked fast. Yup, you heard that right. First guy you ever meet on this campus and that’s his opener. No hi, no what’s your name, no you’re pretty. Straight to business.
“W—what??”
“I said…” his hand shot out, grabbing your waist hard enough to bruise as the other slid down under your skirt without any hesitation. Long fingers crawled up your thighs, rubbing slow rough circles right over your crotch through your panties. He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “Has a cock been in this hole?”
You shook your head, slow and shaky.
“Words.”
“N-nooo…”
“Mhmm. Jackpot.”
Before you could even process it, he had your wrist in a vice grip, dragging you straight to his car like you were already his. One thing led to another and yeah, he kinda took your virginity the same night.
But hey, he was supposed to get laid and you ruined it for him. Isn't it your responsibility to fix it now?
Well, it's not like you were exactly complaining, even if you were scared shitless at first. The man had a tongue like a demon. He ate your little cunt for over an hour. Sucking, licking, kissing every inch until you were leaking wet and loose enough for his monster cock to finally push in. He stretched you open so good you saw stars, crying and shaking the whole time while he laughed low in your ear and told you to take it like a good girl.
And that was just the beginning.
He fucked you the next day. And the day after. And on most days, if not every damn day after that. Turned you into his personal cocksleeve who waited in the apartment he got you just so he could have easy access whenever he got bored or pissed off.
That’s how you met Satoru Gojo.
And that’s exactly how you ended up on his lap right now, dressed like a kitty whore while he squeezed your tits and smirked up at you with the same hungry look he had back then.
“Come on, baby… what’s with the face, hmm?” he asked, rocking his hips slow under you so your pretty body moved with every lazy thrust.
You kept pouting, sniffling like a spoiled brat. “Why did you shout at me…”
“Hmm, sorry baby, my bad… I was pissed, yeah?” his fingers tugged the fur cups of your bikini top down hard, letting your fat tits spill out and bounce free. He squeezed them immediately, thumbs flicking over your nipples.
“But what did I dooo…” you whined again, curling your fingers tight into his sleeves.
This fucking bitch. All he wanted was to blow off some steam after that shitty game by pumping you full of cum, and now he had to babysit a crybaby.
Whatever. Pussy was pussy.
He faked a sweet smile and leaned in, kissing your lips soft. “Not at you, silly. How could I be mad at you?”
“You’re such a liar… you were definitely mad at me…”
The tears started pouring again in broken little sobs, even while you kept grinding your soaked cunt carefully over his bulge.
Satoru’s left eye twitched. His big hands groped your tits harder, squeezing the soft heavy flesh. He likes to call them cow titties because they were so fucking big and he says it's useless and not pretty enough to look at, only good for using like cocksleeves. He’d never admit they looked goddamn perfect on you. He gave them another rough squeeze, face turning mean enough to shut you up.
“Anything to say?” he growled, grabbing two handfuls of your ass and spreading you wide. Your clit smashed right against his rock-hard cock through the fabric.
“Toruuu—nghhh, right there…” you moaned loud, starting to bounce on him with a vision now, tits flopping left and right with every desperate jump.
“How many fuckin' times do I gotta tell you to quit acting like a damn slut, huh?” he slapped your ass hard, the sharp crack making you squeak.
“I'm sorry Toru… please… wan’ it…”
“Oh yeah?” his hands locked on your hips and started bouncing you faster, helping you rub your pussy up and down his bulge. “Want what, baby?”
“Mmm… want you… to put it in… in me… please…”
Satoru threw his head back and laughed, loud and mean. Truth be told, he wasn’t even into girls like this. He liked them scared and shy, the kind who never asked for shit so he could take his sweet time breaking them. You used to be exactly like that too… until he trained you to be a house slut. His fault, really.
“Toruuu…” you called out again, still bouncing on him so eagerly, tits jiggling everywhere. “Please…”
“That so?” he suddenly stopped you, gripping your hips hard and grinding you down tight against his cock. “Do it yourself then.”
Your eyes lit up like he’d just handed you the moon. You quickly slid your bikini bottoms to the side, yanked his boxers down, and his thick cock sprang up, slapping heavy and hot right against your bare pussy.
“Owww…”
“Aww, he’s mean, huh?” he mocked, grinning at you.
You pouted but wrapped your shaky hand around that burning meat, thick veins pulsing under your fingers. You positioned the fat head right between your soaked folds and started rubbing him against your clit. The groan he let out was so loud you almost thought he came already.
“C’mere, fuckin’ god…” he pulled you flush against his chest, arms wrapping you up tight, your legs locking around his waist. His cock trapped between your leaking pussy lips, sliding messy through all that slick.
“Toruu…”
“Shut the fuck up.”
He started snapping his hips fast, humping your wet folds, fat head catching on your hole every thrust. Your lewd moans right in his ear made him leak precum like a faucet.
“Mmm Toru… ahhh please… too much… nghh…”
You were clinging to him for dear life, nails digging in while he humped your sloppy pussy like an animal. With one loud cry you came hard all over him, gushing wet and nasty. He followed right after, painting your pussy and inner thighs in thick white streaks of cum.
“Fuckin’ nasty…” he grinned down at your fucked-out face, surprised you looked this gone just from humping. He hadn’t even put it in. He had other plans, though.
“Get off,” he said, eyes turning cold in a heartbeat.
“Hmm? but whyy??” you blinked at the sudden switch.
“I said get off me.”
You obeyed, sliding off slow and shaky. He wiped his cock clean and buckled up, grabbing his jacket like he was done with you.
“But Toruu… we…”
“Didn’t fuck? yeah. Ain’t gonna do it. Gonna go find some other bitches.” He shrugged, pulling his jacket on.
“Toru nooo— what, please I’m sorry—”
At this point you didn’t even know what you were sorry for.
“Please Toru…” Tears started streaming down your face. “Don’t leave… please, I beg you...”
He ignored you completely, walking out and slamming the door behind him leaving you as you dropped on the floor half naked, sobbing loud, wondering what the fuck you did wrong and how hard you’d have to try just so he wouldn’t go fuck other girls.
Outside, Gojo walked to his car with a big shit eating grin.
There weren’t any other bitches. Hadn’t been since the day he met you. But you didn’t need to know that. Did you?
He wanted you right there. Desperate, messy, crying on the floor, his pretty little crybaby. Trying so hard to please him, head full of him. Because, as far as Gojo was concerned, that was exactly where you belonged.
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synopsis : satoru gojo's a real asshole. unfortunately, he's also the kind of asshole that keeps you spoiled enough to stay and desperate enough to never leave. funny how those two always seem to go hand in hand.
content warning : extremely toxic relationship • dumb and naive reader • manipulation • emotional abuse • gaslighting • degradation • humiliation • possessive behavior • coercive sexual relationship • dubious consent / coercive consent • power imbalance • financial dependence • objectification • virginity loss • bodyshaming • crying kink • oet names • kitty play • mean gojo • explicit sexual content • mdni • 18+.
GAME OVER.
Gojo threw his headphones across the room. They smacked straight into his friend’s chest with a dull thud.
"For fuck’s sake… why the hell are you cunts so fuckin' useless?"
The silence that followed was thick enough to chew. His friend rubbed the spot where the headphones hit. "Come on, man. They were actually good—"
"Good?" Gojo barked out a mean laugh, shaking his head. "Don’t make me laugh. You played like shit and now you’re defending it? Asshole."
The guy opened his mouth, then wisely closed it. What was the point, anyways? They were all spread out in Gojo’s massive room, on his expensive couch, playing on his PS5, breathing his filtered air.
Daddy’s money ran this whole damn house, and everyone knew it. Challenging him was a quick way to get tossed out on your ass. So his friend did the most sane thing, swallowing his pride straight up and stared at the floor.
Gojo shoved himself up from the couch, long legs kicking out hard enough to nail the guy dozing on the beanbag right in the ribs.
"Ouch— what the fuck, man?!" The sleeper jolted awake, blinking confused.
"Fuckin' useless. Go fuck your moms for all I care."
That one landed wrong. The only guy in the group with half a spine straightened up. "Hey. That’s too far. Watch your mouth."
Gojo froze mid-step, head turning slow like a predator catching a scent. The rest of the boys exchanged quick glances and started setting the controllers down real careful, as if any sudden movement might set him off.
"The fuck did you just say to me?" Gojo’s voice dropped into a dangerous growl, blue eyes narrowing until they looked like shards of ice.
The guy put his hands up fast. "Easy, I didn’t mean—"
He didn’t get to finish. Gojo’s glare pinned him in place. "Out. All of you. Get the fuck out of my house."
He jerked his thumb toward the door. No one argued. They scrambled up, grabbing phones, hoodies, and whatever else they’d scattered across the floor, muttering curses under their breath just quiet enough that Gojo wouldn’t hear. Nobody wanted to test whether the prick would actually swing tonight.
In under a minute the room was empty except for the low hum of the AC and the faint smell of snacks.
Gojo rolled his shoulders, already over it. He yanked open his wardrobe, pulled on a black jacket that probably cost more than most people’s rent, snatched his cap off the table, and grabbed his keys.
The anger was already cooling into something else. He thumbed open his phone, typed fast, and hit send without a second thought.
I’m coming over.
The message, of course, went unread. The supposed receiver was dead asleep, curled up in bed with that stupid teddy plushie clutched to the chest, completely unaware of the headache pulling into her apartment complex.
***
Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong.
Satoru Gojo's patience lasted exactly three rings before it snapped in half. He leaned on the doorbell again, then switched to pounding his fist against the wood hard enough to rattle the frame.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
“Fuckin' bitch, the hell she doing in there?” he muttered, stalking over to the side window and trying to peer through the blinds like some pissed off burglar.
“OPEN THE FUCKIN’ DOOR, Y/N!”
That, apparently was the magic phrase.
You snapped awake in bed, teddy plushie falling over to the floor. The knocking kept coming, angry and impatient. You scrambled up, bare feet slapping against the cool floor as you rushed to the door. Heart in your throat, you pressed your eye to the peephole.
And there he was. Satoru Gojo in all his furious glory, face flushed red, jaw locked tight like he was two seconds from kicking the door down and burning the whole damn building.
"Shit. He’s gonna kill me."
You quickly smoothed down your messy hair and tugged at your pajamas, trying to look at least halfway presentable before cracking the door open. Gojo's eyes dropped to you immediately, the kind of look reserved for people caught red-handed committing a crime.
“Where the fuck were you, bitch?” he barked, voice loud in the quiet hallway.
You flinched, lips trembling with shock. “M’sorry, Toru… I was asleep—”
“The hell are you still wearing those for?” He gestured at your baggy pajamas with clear disgust. “I told you I was coming over. Show some skin for fuck’s sake.”
Your brain was racing through every possible way you could’ve messed up. That poor little head of yours working overtime while your eyes started watering, the whites of them turning pink.
“I didn’t see it, Toru… don’t be mad. I'm sorry…” your voice cracked, tears spilling over before you could stop them.
Gojo rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. “For god’s sake, stop crying, y/n. Such a damn crybaby.”
“But you’re being so mean,” you whimpered, wiping at your damp cheeks. “I told you I was sleeping…”
He let out a long groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Ughhh, fine. Just go get changed already.”
He didn’t wait for an invitation. Gojo pushed past you like he owned the place—which, technically, he did. He gave you the apartment just so you’d have somewhere nice to live. No bills, no worries, just you waiting for him whenever he felt like blowing some load.
Win-win, he'd say. You got to live for free and spoiled, and he got a pretty dumb thing all to himself waiting for him.
He dropped onto the couch, legs spread wide, scrolling through his phone while you disappeared into the bedroom. A few minutes later the door clicked open again.
Gojo looked up slowly… and good heavens.
There you were, standing in the doorway in that white kitten fur bikini set he’d picked out himself. Tiny top barely holding your tits, bottoms sitting low on your hips, soft white kitty ears perched on your head and a matching tail swishing behind you with every nervous step. The tiny pink accents here and there made the whole thing look so cute and slutty at the same time.
Exactly what he wanted. A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips, the earlier anger melting into something hotter and darker.
In his defense, when he said he was coming over, that should've been enough. It always meant the same thing: drop whatever the fuck you’re doing and get ready for him. Pick the most scandalous set you own from all those slutty lingeries, barely-there scraps of fabric he’s filled your closet with. Each one worse (or better, depending how you look at it) than the last.
At this point you’ve got more of this shit than normal clothes, but isn’t that exactly how it’s supposed to be anyway?
He’s the man here. He protects you, provides for you, takes care of everything. All you gotta do is listen, do what he says, wear what he wants.
Your primary fucking job is to welcome him home like this. Dolled up in the little slutty set that makes his blood rush straight to his dick the second he walks through the door. So that he doesn’t just “want” to fuck you… he needs to.
He leaned back further into the couch, watching you walk over with a hungry stare, eyes dragging slow from your ears down to the soft sway of your hips and that ridiculous little tail.
Couldn't even blame himself for the way his cock jumped hard in his pants on the sight. Your tits looked so fucking soft and heavy in that tiny top, thin straps fighting for dear life just to keep them squeezed together. They bounced just right with every shy little step you took, enough to make any man with a dick bust a huge load of nut in his pants like a loser.
Yeah… he’d molded you into a perfect little slut.
You weren’t always like this, though. You swear you weren’t.
Just a clueless first-year wandering around campus, still trying to figure out where the hell the library was. That’s how you ended up pushing open the wrong classroom door at the exact wrong moment.
Satoru Gojo, the biggest asshole the campus had ever seen—pants half-down, sweet-talking some poor girl he’d spent days manipulating.
The girl’s eyes went wide when she saw you. She squeaked, yanked her skirt down, and bolted straight past you like her life depended on it.
You’d just stood there, blinking and mumbling, “Oh sorry—sorry, my bad,” before trying to close the door again.
Too fuckin' late.
Gojo had been furious. Anyone would be, right?
All that effort wasted because some dumb girl wandered in and decided to cockblock him. He’d cornered you in the empty hallway before you could even run, towering over you while you pouted and sniffled like a scared kitten.
The more you cried and stammered apologies, the harder he got. Something in that pretty, teary face flipped a switch in him. He made the decision right then and there: new prey acquired.
He eyed you up and down like fresh meat, that sharp instinct of his kicking in immediately. Because Satoru Gojo could smell virgins from a mile away. Something about the way their eyes went all wide and clueless. He saw it in you the second you walked in on him. Not a single fuckin' thought behind those pretty eyes.
He couldn’t believe his luck, honestly. Just when he thought one had slipped away from him, another one showed up. Even better, even dumber, practically offering herself up on a silver platter right in front of him. And the cherry on top? this one looked like she’d be so much easier.
“Ever been fucked?”
You blinked fast. Yup, you heard that right. First guy you ever meet on this campus and that’s his opener. No hi, no what’s your name, no you’re pretty. Straight to business.
“W—what??”
“I said…” his hand shot out, grabbing your waist hard enough to bruise as the other slid down under your skirt without any hesitation. Long fingers crawled up your thighs, rubbing slow rough circles right over your crotch through your panties. He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “Has a cock been in this hole?”
You shook your head, slow and shaky.
“Words.”
“N-nooo…”
“Mhmm. Jackpot.”
Before you could even process it, he had your wrist in a vice grip, dragging you straight to his car like you were already his. One thing led to another and yeah, he kinda took your virginity the same night.
But hey, he was supposed to get laid and you ruined it for him. Isn't it your responsibility to fix it now?
Well, it's not like you were exactly complaining, even if you were scared shitless at first. The man had a tongue like a demon. He ate your little cunt for over an hour. Sucking, licking, kissing every inch until you were leaking wet and loose enough for his monster cock to finally push in. He stretched you open so good you saw stars, crying and shaking the whole time while he laughed low in your ear and told you to take it like a good girl.
And that was just the beginning.
He fucked you the next day. And the day after. And on most days, if not every damn day after that. Turned you into his personal cocksleeve who waited in the apartment he got you just so he could have easy access whenever he got bored or pissed off.
That’s how you met Satoru Gojo.
And that’s exactly how you ended up on his lap right now, dressed like a kitty whore while he squeezed your tits and smirked up at you with the same hungry look he had back then.
“Come on, baby… what’s with the face, hmm?” he asked, rocking his hips slow under you so your pretty body moved with every lazy thrust.
You kept pouting, sniffling like a spoiled brat. “Why did you shout at me…”
“Hmm, sorry baby, my bad… I was pissed, yeah?” his fingers tugged the fur cups of your bikini top down hard, letting your fat tits spill out and bounce free. He squeezed them immediately, thumbs flicking over your nipples.
“But what did I dooo…” you whined again, curling your fingers tight into his sleeves.
This fucking bitch. All he wanted was to blow off some steam after that shitty game by pumping you full of cum, and now he had to babysit a crybaby.
Whatever. Pussy was pussy.
He faked a sweet smile and leaned in, kissing your lips soft. “Not at you, silly. How could I be mad at you?”
“You’re such a liar… you were definitely mad at me…”
The tears started pouring again in broken little sobs, even while you kept grinding your soaked cunt carefully over his bulge.
Satoru’s left eye twitched. His big hands groped your tits harder, squeezing the soft heavy flesh. He likes to call them cow titties because they were so fucking big and he says it's useless and not pretty enough to look at, only good for using like cocksleeves. He’d never admit they looked goddamn perfect on you. He gave them another rough squeeze, face turning mean enough to shut you up.
“Anything to say?” he growled, grabbing two handfuls of your ass and spreading you wide. Your clit smashed right against his rock-hard cock through the fabric.
“Toruuu—nghhh, right there…” you moaned loud, starting to bounce on him with a vision now, tits flopping left and right with every desperate jump.
“How many fuckin' times do I gotta tell you to quit acting like a damn slut, huh?” he slapped your ass hard, the sharp crack making you squeak.
“I'm sorry Toru… please… wan’ it…”
“Oh yeah?” his hands locked on your hips and started bouncing you faster, helping you rub your pussy up and down his bulge. “Want what, baby?”
“Mmm… want you… to put it in… in me… please…”
Satoru threw his head back and laughed, loud and mean. Truth be told, he wasn’t even into girls like this. He liked them scared and shy, the kind who never asked for shit so he could take his sweet time breaking them. You used to be exactly like that too… until he trained you to be a house slut. His fault, really.
“Toruuu…” you called out again, still bouncing on him so eagerly, tits jiggling everywhere. “Please…”
“That so?” he suddenly stopped you, gripping your hips hard and grinding you down tight against his cock. “Do it yourself then.”
Your eyes lit up like he’d just handed you the moon. You quickly slid your bikini bottoms to the side, yanked his boxers down, and his thick cock sprang up, slapping heavy and hot right against your bare pussy.
“Owww…”
“Aww, he’s mean, huh?” he mocked, grinning at you.
You pouted but wrapped your shaky hand around that burning meat, thick veins pulsing under your fingers. You positioned the fat head right between your soaked folds and started rubbing him against your clit. The groan he let out was so loud you almost thought he came already.
“C’mere, fuckin’ god…” he pulled you flush against his chest, arms wrapping you up tight, your legs locking around his waist. His cock trapped between your leaking pussy lips, sliding messy through all that slick.
“Toruu…”
“Shut the fuck up.”
He started snapping his hips fast, humping your wet folds, fat head catching on your hole every thrust. Your lewd moans right in his ear made him leak precum like a faucet.
“Mmm Toru… ahhh please… too much… nghh…”
You were clinging to him for dear life, nails digging in while he humped your sloppy pussy like an animal. With one loud cry you came hard all over him, gushing wet and nasty. He followed right after, painting your pussy and inner thighs in thick white streaks of cum.
“Fuckin’ nasty…” he grinned down at your fucked-out face, surprised you looked this gone just from humping. He hadn’t even put it in. He had other plans, though.
“Get off,” he said, eyes turning cold in a heartbeat.
“Hmm? but whyy??” you blinked at the sudden switch.
“I said get off me.”
You obeyed, sliding off slow and shaky. He wiped his cock clean and buckled up, grabbing his jacket like he was done with you.
“But Toruu… we…”
“Didn’t fuck? yeah. Ain’t gonna do it. Gonna go find some other bitches.” He shrugged, pulling his jacket on.
“Toru nooo— what, please I’m sorry—”
At this point you didn’t even know what you were sorry for.
“Please Toru…” Tears started streaming down your face. “Don’t leave… please, I beg you...”
He ignored you completely, walking out and slamming the door behind him leaving you as you dropped on the floor half naked, sobbing loud, wondering what the fuck you did wrong and how hard you’d have to try just so he wouldn’t go fuck other girls.
Outside, Gojo walked to his car with a big shit eating grin.
There weren’t any other bitches. Hadn’t been since the day he met you. But you didn’t need to know that. Did you?
He wanted you right there. Desperate, messy, crying on the floor, his pretty little crybaby. Trying so hard to please him, head full of him. Because, as far as Gojo was concerned, that was exactly where you belonged.
Okay... keeping up with the taglists for every single fic is getting way harder than i thought 😭. So from now on I'm putting a limit on how many people can be on each fic taglist.
Rules !!
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3. Have your age in your bio or I'll assume you're underage and block you.
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6. I'll be cleaning up the taglists every few months to remove deactivated accounts and free up spots for new people.
small note : sorry if this sounds a little rude 😭 it's genuinely so time-consuming keeping all these taglists updated. I literally spent 2 hours cleaning them up today... meanwhile all my fics are just sitting untouched in my drafts LMAO.
so please help me out by following the rules 🫶🏻 it'll make things a lot easier for both of us.
synopsis : you kept your head down, kept your mouth shut, tried to act like nothing was wrong. but it was. and when they found out.. yeah. let’s just say... no one's laying a hand on you again.
read the main series here
The past few days had been hell.
You’d never really hated college before. But now, the thought of walking onto that campus made your stomach twist. And it wasn’t even because of classes or exams or bad grades. It was them.
It had started when you spoke up.
Your friend had been crying in the bathroom, shaking and barely able to speak. She told you everything, how this guy kept showing up near her department, watching her, following her home, brushing too close when no one was around. She was terrified. So you did what any decent person would. You told someone. A faculty member.
And for a few days, it actually worked.
The guy stopped coming around. Your friend smiled again. There was finally peace.
Then it started again. Only this time… the victim wasn’t her.
You noticed them the first time in the canteen. Three guys. Older, probably seniors. Not in your year, that you know. Not in your department, either. You didn’t know their names, but they knew yours. Could tell by the way they looked at you. Like they already had plans.
At first, you convinced yourself it was a coincidence. And that you were just being paranoid.
But the next day, they were there again.
Library. Canteen. Washroom corridor.
Every time you left a class, one of them was lurking just far enough not to cause a scene, but close enough to see you notice.
They didn’t touch you. Didn’t say anything either. Didn’t need to. Their eyes did enough damage. Undressing you, studying you, daring you to look away.
You never walked alone after that.
You made sure a friend was with you everywhere. You kept your head down. Told yourself it was fine. They weren’t going to do anything, anyways. Just scare you, maybe. You could handle it.
You thought about telling them.
But you knew what Toji would do. Didn't wanna make Nanami and Suguru worry. And Satoru? He’d make a scene. A loud and violent, public scene. You didn’t want that. You can handle it. You definitely can handle it.
God. How wrong you were.
***
You didn’t think much of it, honestly.
The friend who usually walked with you to the bus stop had left early. It was just a short walk. That too in broad daylight. The bus stop was usually crowded by this time. What could even happen? It’s fine, you told yourself.
But the second you turned the corner near the empty alleyway, someone grabbed you. A rough arm clamped tight around your neck, yanking you backward. Your feet stumbled over the pavement, heart slamming against your ribs, a hand over your mouth before you could scream.
“Don’t make a fuckin' sound,” someone hissed into your ear, breath hot and sour against your skin.
You froze in place. There were three of them. They had the same eyes, same smirks and the same stench of control.
One of them laughed low. “You’ve got some guts, girl. Telling on us like that.”
Another chuckled beside him. “What, thought they’d kick us out or something?”
The third stepped in front of you, his face was too close, breath hitting your cheek. “We didn’t even fuck with you, yeah? So why the fuck are you meddling?”
You tried to shake your head, lips trembling against the pressure of his palm. But their eyes were already roaming, scanning your body, undressing you with a look that made bile rise in your throat.
“Oh? Now you’re talking?” he mocked, looking down at you.
Then the first one’s gaze dipped lower, right into your cleavage, his lips curling into a sick grin. “Hm… anyway, you’re a better snack than her.” He let out a slow whistle.
“P-please… let me go…”
Another boy leaned in, tone dripping with arrogance. “So, what’s the deal with you, huh? Saw a few guys dropping you off and picking you up lately. Didn’t look like... family.”
You tried to keep your voice steady. “M-my… my roommates.”
The boy grinned, very much delighted. “Oh? Did you hear that?”
He turned to the second guy, smacking his chest. “She’s "casually" living with some guys.”
The second boy snorted. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Oh yeah. I’m thinking what you’re thinking,” the other replied, voice low and eager.
The third boy stepped closer, his face cruel and grinning. “So… how is it... do you get paid for whoring for them? Or is it just for the rent, slut?”
Your stomach turned at his words. “Mind your words!!”
“Oh?” one of them cooed, lips curling. “Little slut’s gettin angry, yeah?”
“Mind if we join sometime?” another chimed in, eyes filled with hunger. “We got cash too.”
He stepped closer, his hands coming up to boldly cupping and squeezing your breasts. “Damn… would you look at that,” he muttered to the others. “No wonder they keep you like a fucktoy… shit.”
He ignores you completely, “You can take a few more cocks, right? I mean—” his voice trailed off as his hand slid lower, trailing down your body until it reached your crotch.
You squeezed your eyes shut, silently praying it would end quickly. You wanted to raise your arms, shove him away, and run for your dear life, but your body refused to obey. Your hands stayed frozen at your sides, nails digging painfully into your palms from the sheer force of your own grip.
“St… stop. Let me go...”
“I said stop, you fuckers!”
With a surge of desperate strength, you shoved him hard. His body slammed into the opposite wall before he fell to the ground.
SLAP.
Hot pain bloomed across your cheek. Your head snapped to the side, vision blurring from the impact. Your knees buckled, and the arm around your neck tightened.
They laughed at you. Tears started streaming down your cheeks. Their face was blank. Not even a hint of guilt, not a flicker of shame, just amusement at your pain.
“This is your last warning, babe,” one of them sneered at you. “Don’t fuck with us again. And tell your little friend to pick up my calls, yeah?”
Then his hand cupped your face rough, fingers digging into your skin and before you could flinch, he leaned in, pressing a harsh, unwanted kiss to your neck. He inhaled your scent staying there for a bit.
“Mmm… that’s for remembering me when you go home to whore around.”
Then they shoved you against the alley wall like trash. Their laughter echoed behind you as they walked off. Loud and victorious.
You stood there in silence, the air around you thick and suffocating. A deep chill had settled into your bones, leaving you cold and numb, as if you can't escape from the horror of what had just happened. Your legs trembled beneath you, unsteady and weak, while your heart hammered relentlessly against your ribs. The sting on your cheek burned hot where his hand had struck you, the skin pulsing with heat that only deepened the shame twisting inside.
You had no sense of how long you remained frozen in that spot. But eventually, you forced yourself to move. You stumbled toward the bus stop, keeping your head low, arms wrapped around yourself. No one noticed. No one asked.
Just you… and the heavy weight of what just happened.
By the time you reached the apartment, your hands were shaking. You stared at the keypad for a second before fumbling in the code, fingers barely doing what you wanted them to.
It was quiet. No one was home yet. The lights were off, and the silence only made the fear louder.
You didn’t even care to change. Just walked straight to your room and collapsed onto your bed. The blanket felt too cold and too warm at once. Your body curled in tight.
And then you started crying. Small, broken sobs muffled into your pillow, the kind that left your throat raw and your soul wrung out. Eventually, sleep took you. Not because you felt better, but because your body gave up.
The knocking pulled you from sleep.
“Y/n… baby? still sleeping?”
Suguru’s voice, unmistakably. You blinked, blearily glancing at your phone. 7:04 PM.
Shit.
They were all home by now. You sat up slowly, body still heavy and the ache in your cheek had dulled, but you didn’t have to check the mirror to know the bruise was there.
Still… you looked. Great.
The faint imprint of his palm bloomed across your cheek. It wasn't dark yet, but obvious enough. You pulled your collar to check your neck. Luckily, it looked fine, there were no bruises.
“I’m gonna shower,” you called out. “Be out in a bit.”
Suguru hummed his acknowledgment from behind the door and left.
You stepped into the shower and let the water run hot. By the time you came out, the mark was still there. Your fingers hovered over your makeup pouch. You already knew what would happen if they saw.
So you did what you could. Little bit of concealer and powder. Something light but just enough. Just enough to cover the truth.
You stared at yourself in the mirror for a second longer, forcing your expression to settle into something neutral. Then you walked out to the living room.
The TV was playing some music. Satoru was sprawled on the couch, arms wide open the second he saw you.
“Bunnnyyyyyy!” he beamed. “You slept like a log! I missed you! Come ‘ere!”
You felt something soften inside you for the first time all day. Without thinking, you ran to him, crawling into his lap and curling into his chest. His arms locked around you tight, his scent wrapping around your shoulders like a blanket.
“Awww, did you miss me too, bunny?” he cooed, peppering kisses all over your face. “Sooo cute.”
You smiled small and tired.
Then Toji’s voice cut through the room. “Yo. Why the fuck are you wearing makeup at home?”
You hesitated just long enough to rack your brain for the best excuse you could think of. “Uhmm… I didn’t… It’s from morning.”
He narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "Then why's your hair wet? Didn’t you just shower? And your makeup’s still on?”
You didn’t respond to that.
“Lie better, baby.”
“What's going on?” Geto asked from the other end of the couch, his voice was calm, but there was a bite under it.
“No… nothing,” you said, waving it off too fast.
Toji scoffed. “Tch. Come on, just tell us. What you hiding?”
“It's nothing. Really. Let’s just watch TV.”
Gojo tilted your chin gently, studying your face. “But your eyes… they’re red. Bunny, did you cry?”
“Me? No…” you forced a small laugh. “I just slept a lot. Maybe that’s why.”
“Hmm…” Gojo hummed, unconvinced, but he didn’t push you any further.
But Toji definitely did. “You done joking, or gonna tell us what the fuck’s going on?”
“I’m just tired, Toji,” you said, voice a little too thin. “I need some water.”
Before anyone else could speak, you pushed yourself off Satoru’s lap and headed to the kitchen.
Nanami was in the kitchen, quietly stirring something on the stove when you walked in. The smell of dinner spread softly through the space.
He glanced at you briefly, then turned off the burner, reaching for a glass. Without a word, he handed you water and kissed your temple. “You look… tired, baby. Something happened?”
You shook your head quickly. “No… nothing, Nanamin. I swear.”
He didn’t say anything, just looked at you with those calm and steady eyes. The kind of look that meant no bullshit will be tolerated here. And for some reason… that broke you. Your chest crumpled and the tears came hard ugly, messy and unstoppable.
Nanami froze, startled at the sight before him.
“Hey—hey, sweetheart…” he whispered, setting the glass down to pull you into his arms. “What’s wrong? Don’t cry, love… please.”
You wrapped your arms around him tightly, sobbing into his shirt, tears soaking the fabric near his heart. He held you with both hands, stroking your hair gently, letting you fall apart in the safety of his embrace.
“Please,” he murmured, his voice low and pained. “Tell me what’s bothering you, baby. I can’t know otherwise, right, love?”
You couldn’t answer. Just more tears. Your entire body shaking with it.
Nanami exhaled through his nose. “Alright,” he whispered. “Come on—you’ll tire yourself out. Let’s wash your face.”
He guided you to the sink, running the tap, cupping water in his hands to gently splash your cheeks, then wiping it with a towel.
And that’s when he saw it.
His movements stopped completely. The warm touch left your skin, the silence thickening in the air.
“Y/n,” he said in a strange voice. “What’s this?”
Panic seized your chest. You instinctively tried to turn, to run away from him, but the moment you spun around, you collided into a wall of muscle at the kitchen doorway.
Toji's hand caught your wrist tight. “Yo. Where you running off—”
The rest of his sentence never came. His gaze caught on your face and then dropped to the bruise Nanami had so carelessly exposed.
“The fuck is that on your face, Y/n?”
The question came out far louder than he meant it to, sharp enough to fill the entire apartment. Gojo and Geto came rushing in from the living room at full speed, faces alert, instantly reacting to Toji’s tone.
“What happened?” Gojo called out, voice laced with panic. “What's going on?”
“Is she hurt?” Geto's voice cut in.
Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.
Fuck.
No more hiding it now. It was too late.
“Mind telling us what the fuck is wrong, Y/n?” Toji’s voice was sharp and boiling over, all fire.
“Toji,” Nanami said sternly, “Don’t. She’s already scared, poor thing.”
Toji’s jaw visibly clenched. “I fuckin' asked her a million times. And she didn’t fuckin’ tell me.” His hand was still holding your wrist, his grip on you tighter than ever.
“I understand,” Nanami said, steady and commanding. “Just shut up for now and let her speak.”
“Come on, baby,” Geto murmured from behind you. “Who hurt you?”
You looked up at him. His voice was soft, but his face unreadable and still.
Gojo hadn’t said a word yet. But when you glanced over… His fists were clenched white. Knuckles bone-tight. His face was blank, eyes sharp and glassy, staring holes into the wall like he was barely holding himself together.
You swallowed hard, preparing yourself. And then you spoke. The words came out broken, cracked between hiccuped sobs, voice barely more than a whisper. You told them everything. About them. About what happened. About what they did. Then… you told them about today.
Your voice was shaking while you continued. “They… threatened me..… t-touched me, and they hit me, and said…” you swallowed the bile rising in your throat. “S-said horrible… things.…about me living here.....”
You looked down, eyes burning like hell, the tears dripping freely. “I didn’t… know what to do. I w-was scared. I didn’t want you to be mad. I—I’m sorry…”
For a long moment, the apartment was silent, just the sound of your breathing, sharp and broken.
Then Toji let go of your wrist, his hands curling into fists at his sides, shoulders tensed like a beast about to lunge.
“Where.” His voice was low, trembling with restraint. “Where are those fuckers.”
Nanami stepped beside you instantly, arm wrapping around your shoulders, holding you with the calmness of someone barely containing his own fury. He kissed your temple again. “You did nothing wrong, love. You were brave.”
You'd be lying if you said you didn't notice the way his jaw clenched like stone. His expression stayed unreadable, but his eyes had turned cold.
“Give me names,” he said.
Geto was the quietest. He pulled you toward him gently, cradling your face. His thumb brushed over the fading concealer on your cheek, exposing the bruise beneath. His eyes didn’t blink. “They touched you?”
You nodded, barely.
He exhaled through his nose. “I see.” And just like that, he turned to them. “Gonna need a few addresses.”
Satoru didn’t speak for a long time. He walked up to you slowly, like he was in a trance, then dropped to his knees in front of you. Hands reaching up to cradle your thighs, your hips, his forehead resting against your stomach. You could feel how his shoulders were shaking.
When he finally looked up, his voice was hoarse. “I let this happen.”
“No—no, Toruu, you didn’t—”
“I let this happen,” he repeated, eyes shining but sharp. “I wasn’t there.... I wasn't fuckin' there to protect you...”
You could see how his breathing getting heavier, his grin gone. His gaze had that strange glint you’d only seen once, and it had scared even Toji.
“They’re dead,” he said. “They’re fuckin' dead.”
“Do you know something about them, love?” Nanami’s voice was quiet. Careful.
“I… I don’t know much,” you mumbled, wiping your face with trembling fingers. “They’re seniors… and… I think they live in the college dorms. I’m not sure.”
Geto moved closer, bending down just slightly in front of you to face you. “How do they look?”
“One of them had bleached hair. Really tall. He’s got an ear piercing.” Your hand instinctively reached up, fingers brushing over your sore cheek. “He’s the one who…”
You didn’t even finish the sentence.
Toji’s voice snapped across the air like a whip. “Why the hell would you keep something like this to yourself?”
His tone wasn’t just angry. It was hurt, like your silence had punched him in the gut.
“Toji, That’s not— I was just… please understand—”
“What else, huh?” he growled, stepping forward, fury rolling off him in waves. “Think I’m a scaredy cat to slice some boys up? trust me… I’ve done more than that.”
“Toji,” Geto interrupted, calm but sharp, “let’s not scare her.”
But before either of them could say more, Satoru suddenly stood like something had snapped inside him. He didn’t say anything. Walked straight to the counter, snatched the car keys, and tossed them at Toji.
“Toji,” he said with a flat voice. “Take the car.”
Toji caught it midair with a dark grin. “Finally.”
Then he was gone, slipping out the door with a low curse under his breath. Gojo followed right behind him, not even sparing a word, his steps too calm to be safe. Nanami reached upto you and gently pulled your head into his chest again.
Geto stood there for another second, watching the two of them disappear out of his sight.
Nanami finally looked up at him. “Go with them,” he said flatly. “Or those two are gonna end up in a fuckin' jail cell.”
Geto let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “...Yeah. Yeah, alright.”
Without another word, he headed for the door. Then it clicked shut behind him. Leaving just you and Nanami.
The apartment suddenly felt a whole lot quieter, and your knees buckled a little from exhaustion.
Nanami sat with you on the couch, pulling you into his lap, tucking your head under his chin. His fingers found your hair, gentle and slow, stroking through the strands like a lullaby.
“It’s okay, love,” he murmured. “You’re safe now. They’re not gonna hurt you again.”
You sniffled again, hands gripping his shirt, your face still warm from crying.
“Just breathe,” he whispered softly in your ear. “I’ve got you.”
And you did.
***
Somewhere amidst the warmth of Nanami’s hand in your hair, you must’ve fallen asleep again. When you stirred awake, the apartment was dark and quiet. The low flicker of the TV still on. Your eyes blinked open slowly, and you shifted slightly.
Satoru was curled up at your feet, arms wrapped around your calves, face buried in the hem of your blanket.
“T—toru?” you whispered, voice still a little hoarse.
He stirred instantly, blinking up at you, eyes puffy with sleep. And… there was a bandage across his nose.
Your stomach dropped in an instant. “D-did they… did they hit you?”
“Not them, bunny,” he grumbled, groaning as he sat up and glared across the room. “This was Toji fuckin’ Fushiguro.”
Your head snapped up. “What?”
Toji, sprawled across the other end of the couch, let out a dismissive scoff. “Oii, ain't like I meant to hit him,” he grunted. “Should've kept his ass outta my swing.”
“Fuck you, Toji,” Gojo shot back.
“Guys…” you said, voice a little too weak. “What did you all do?”
Geto who was leaning lazily on the armrest, gave you a soft smile. “It’s fine, baby. We took care of it, okay?”
He stood, walking over to you and brushing your hair from your face. “Take a day off tomorrow. I’ll stay with you. Keep you company, alright?”
Gojo immediately perked up. “What?! I’m staying home too! I wanna be with bunny!”
Toji rolled his eyes at him. “Stop using her as an excuse to skip work, you lazy ass.”
“Ahh, look who’s talking,” Gojo said, stretching his arms dramatically.
Gojo pouted softly, then turned to you, blinking up with wide, shimmering eyes. “Bunnnny… can I sleep with you tonight? Just wanna make sure you’re okay. Please? please? please? pretty please?”
You smiled for the first time in what felt like forever and then gave him a small nod.
Gojo lit up immediately, the worry melting off his face as he shuffled closer and wrapped both arms around your waist, practically clinging to you while you leaned into him without a second thought.
You didn't go to college the next day.
Or the one after that.
By the time the weekend came and went, you finally convinced yourself it was okay to go back.
Even then, your hands wouldn't stop trembling as you walked through the campus gates on monday morning. You caught yourself glancing over your shoulder every few minutes. Every unfamiliar voice made your chest tighten. Every group of people had you looking twice.
But... Nothing.
No one waiting outside your lecture hall. No eyes following you through the canteen. No footsteps behind you in the library. Not even a glimpse of them.
You almost started believing it was over.... until that evening.
You were leaving campus, bag slung over your shoulder, phone in hand. The sky was pink and fading into purple.
And then he appeared. The tall one. With the piercings bleached hair.
He was standing a few steps away from the college gate. The moment you noticed him, you stopped. His head stayed lowered the entire time, like he couldn't even bring himself to meet your eyes.
He looked... awful.
One arm hung in a sling. His lip was split. One eye was swollen nearly shut, purple bruises blooming across what little skin you could still see.
“S-sorry...” he swallowed hard, still refusing to look up.
“W-won't do it again,” he stammered. “I swear... j-just... please... tell them... tell them I said sorry.”
Silence stretched between the two of you. You didn't answer him. After a long moment, you gave the smallest nod before turning around and walking away.
Somehow... your steps felt just a little lighter this time. Now your heart wasn’t racing with fear anymore. It was steady.
Because you knew you were safe. Because you had them.
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synopsis : you kept your head down, kept your mouth shut, tried to act like nothing was wrong. but it was. and when they found out.. yeah. let’s just say... no one's laying a hand on you again.
read the main series here
The past few days had been hell.
You’d never really hated college before. But now, the thought of walking onto that campus made your stomach twist. And it wasn’t even because of classes or exams or bad grades. It was them.
It had started when you spoke up.
Your friend had been crying in the bathroom, shaking and barely able to speak. She told you everything, how this guy kept showing up near her department, watching her, following her home, brushing too close when no one was around. She was terrified. So you did what any decent person would. You told someone. A faculty member.
And for a few days, it actually worked.
The guy stopped coming around. Your friend smiled again. There was finally peace.
Then it started again. Only this time… the victim wasn’t her.
You noticed them the first time in the canteen. Three guys. Older, probably seniors. Not in your year, that you know. Not in your department, either. You didn’t know their names, but they knew yours. Could tell by the way they looked at you. Like they already had plans.
At first, you convinced yourself it was a coincidence. And that you were just being paranoid.
But the next day, they were there again.
Library. Canteen. Washroom corridor.
Every time you left a class, one of them was lurking just far enough not to cause a scene, but close enough to see you notice.
They didn’t touch you. Didn’t say anything either. Didn’t need to. Their eyes did enough damage. Undressing you, studying you, daring you to look away.
You never walked alone after that.
You made sure a friend was with you everywhere. You kept your head down. Told yourself it was fine. They weren’t going to do anything, anyways. Just scare you, maybe. You could handle it.
You thought about telling them.
But you knew what Toji would do. Didn't wanna make Nanami and Suguru worry. And Satoru? He’d make a scene. A loud and violent, public scene. You didn’t want that. You can handle it. You definitely can handle it.
God. How wrong you were.
***
You didn’t think much of it, honestly.
The friend who usually walked with you to the bus stop had left early. It was just a short walk. That too in broad daylight. The bus stop was usually crowded by this time. What could even happen? It’s fine, you told yourself.
But the second you turned the corner near the empty alleyway, someone grabbed you. A rough arm clamped tight around your neck, yanking you backward. Your feet stumbled over the pavement, heart slamming against your ribs, a hand over your mouth before you could scream.
“Don’t make a fuckin' sound,” someone hissed into your ear, breath hot and sour against your skin.
You froze in place. There were three of them. They had the same eyes, same smirks and the same stench of control.
One of them laughed low. “You’ve got some guts, girl. Telling on us like that.”
Another chuckled beside him. “What, thought they’d kick us out or something?”
The third stepped in front of you, his face was too close, breath hitting your cheek. “We didn’t even fuck with you, yeah? So why the fuck are you meddling?”
You tried to shake your head, lips trembling against the pressure of his palm. But their eyes were already roaming, scanning your body, undressing you with a look that made bile rise in your throat.
“Oh? Now you’re talking?” he mocked, looking down at you.
Then the first one’s gaze dipped lower, right into your cleavage, his lips curling into a sick grin. “Hm… anyway, you’re a better snack than her.” He let out a slow whistle.
“P-please… let me go…”
Another boy leaned in, tone dripping with arrogance. “So, what’s the deal with you, huh? Saw a few guys dropping you off and picking you up lately. Didn’t look like... family.”
You tried to keep your voice steady. “M-my… my roommates.”
The boy grinned, very much delighted. “Oh? Did you hear that?”
He turned to the second guy, smacking his chest. “She’s "casually" living with some guys.”
The second boy snorted. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Oh yeah. I’m thinking what you’re thinking,” the other replied, voice low and eager.
The third boy stepped closer, his face cruel and grinning. “So… how is it... do you get paid for whoring for them? Or is it just for the rent, slut?”
Your stomach turned at his words. “Mind your words!!”
“Oh?” one of them cooed, lips curling. “Little slut’s gettin angry, yeah?”
“Mind if we join sometime?” another chimed in, eyes filled with hunger. “We got cash too.”
He stepped closer, his hands coming up to boldly cupping and squeezing your breasts. “Damn… would you look at that,” he muttered to the others. “No wonder they keep you like a fucktoy… shit.”
He ignores you completely, “You can take a few more cocks, right? I mean—” his voice trailed off as his hand slid lower, trailing down your body until it reached your crotch.
You squeezed your eyes shut, silently praying it would end quickly. You wanted to raise your arms, shove him away, and run for your dear life, but your body refused to obey. Your hands stayed frozen at your sides, nails digging painfully into your palms from the sheer force of your own grip.
“St… stop. Let me go...”
“I said stop, you fuckers!”
With a surge of desperate strength, you shoved him hard. His body slammed into the opposite wall before he fell to the ground.
SLAP.
Hot pain bloomed across your cheek. Your head snapped to the side, vision blurring from the impact. Your knees buckled, and the arm around your neck tightened.
They laughed at you. Tears started streaming down your cheeks. Their face was blank. Not even a hint of guilt, not a flicker of shame, just amusement at your pain.
“This is your last warning, babe,” one of them sneered at you. “Don’t fuck with us again. And tell your little friend to pick up my calls, yeah?”
Then his hand cupped your face rough, fingers digging into your skin and before you could flinch, he leaned in, pressing a harsh, unwanted kiss to your neck. He inhaled your scent staying there for a bit.
“Mmm… that’s for remembering me when you go home to whore around.”
Then they shoved you against the alley wall like trash. Their laughter echoed behind you as they walked off. Loud and victorious.
You stood there in silence, the air around you thick and suffocating. A deep chill had settled into your bones, leaving you cold and numb, as if you can't escape from the horror of what had just happened. Your legs trembled beneath you, unsteady and weak, while your heart hammered relentlessly against your ribs. The sting on your cheek burned hot where his hand had struck you, the skin pulsing with heat that only deepened the shame twisting inside.
You had no sense of how long you remained frozen in that spot. But eventually, you forced yourself to move. You stumbled toward the bus stop, keeping your head low, arms wrapped around yourself. No one noticed. No one asked.
Just you… and the heavy weight of what just happened.
By the time you reached the apartment, your hands were shaking. You stared at the keypad for a second before fumbling in the code, fingers barely doing what you wanted them to.
It was quiet. No one was home yet. The lights were off, and the silence only made the fear louder.
You didn’t even care to change. Just walked straight to your room and collapsed onto your bed. The blanket felt too cold and too warm at once. Your body curled in tight.
And then you started crying. Small, broken sobs muffled into your pillow, the kind that left your throat raw and your soul wrung out. Eventually, sleep took you. Not because you felt better, but because your body gave up.
The knocking pulled you from sleep.
“Y/n… baby? still sleeping?”
Suguru’s voice, unmistakably. You blinked, blearily glancing at your phone. 7:04 PM.
Shit.
They were all home by now. You sat up slowly, body still heavy and the ache in your cheek had dulled, but you didn’t have to check the mirror to know the bruise was there.
Still… you looked. Great.
The faint imprint of his palm bloomed across your cheek. It wasn't dark yet, but obvious enough. You pulled your collar to check your neck. Luckily, it looked fine, there were no bruises.
“I’m gonna shower,” you called out. “Be out in a bit.”
Suguru hummed his acknowledgment from behind the door and left.
You stepped into the shower and let the water run hot. By the time you came out, the mark was still there. Your fingers hovered over your makeup pouch. You already knew what would happen if they saw.
So you did what you could. Little bit of concealer and powder. Something light but just enough. Just enough to cover the truth.
You stared at yourself in the mirror for a second longer, forcing your expression to settle into something neutral. Then you walked out to the living room.
The TV was playing some music. Satoru was sprawled on the couch, arms wide open the second he saw you.
“Bunnnyyyyyy!” he beamed. “You slept like a log! I missed you! Come ‘ere!”
You felt something soften inside you for the first time all day. Without thinking, you ran to him, crawling into his lap and curling into his chest. His arms locked around you tight, his scent wrapping around your shoulders like a blanket.
“Awww, did you miss me too, bunny?” he cooed, peppering kisses all over your face. “Sooo cute.”
You smiled small and tired.
Then Toji’s voice cut through the room. “Yo. Why the fuck are you wearing makeup at home?”
You hesitated just long enough to rack your brain for the best excuse you could think of. “Uhmm… I didn’t… It’s from morning.”
He narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "Then why's your hair wet? Didn’t you just shower? And your makeup’s still on?”
You didn’t respond to that.
“Lie better, baby.”
“What's going on?” Geto asked from the other end of the couch, his voice was calm, but there was a bite under it.
“No… nothing,” you said, waving it off too fast.
Toji scoffed. “Tch. Come on, just tell us. What you hiding?”
“It's nothing. Really. Let’s just watch TV.”
Gojo tilted your chin gently, studying your face. “But your eyes… they’re red. Bunny, did you cry?”
“Me? No…” you forced a small laugh. “I just slept a lot. Maybe that’s why.”
“Hmm…” Gojo hummed, unconvinced, but he didn’t push you any further.
But Toji definitely did. “You done joking, or gonna tell us what the fuck’s going on?”
“I’m just tired, Toji,” you said, voice a little too thin. “I need some water.”
Before anyone else could speak, you pushed yourself off Satoru’s lap and headed to the kitchen.
Nanami was in the kitchen, quietly stirring something on the stove when you walked in. The smell of dinner spread softly through the space.
He glanced at you briefly, then turned off the burner, reaching for a glass. Without a word, he handed you water and kissed your temple. “You look… tired, baby. Something happened?”
You shook your head quickly. “No… nothing, Nanamin. I swear.”
He didn’t say anything, just looked at you with those calm and steady eyes. The kind of look that meant no bullshit will be tolerated here. And for some reason… that broke you. Your chest crumpled and the tears came hard ugly, messy and unstoppable.
Nanami froze, startled at the sight before him.
“Hey—hey, sweetheart…” he whispered, setting the glass down to pull you into his arms. “What’s wrong? Don’t cry, love… please.”
You wrapped your arms around him tightly, sobbing into his shirt, tears soaking the fabric near his heart. He held you with both hands, stroking your hair gently, letting you fall apart in the safety of his embrace.
“Please,” he murmured, his voice low and pained. “Tell me what’s bothering you, baby. I can’t know otherwise, right, love?”
You couldn’t answer. Just more tears. Your entire body shaking with it.
Nanami exhaled through his nose. “Alright,” he whispered. “Come on—you’ll tire yourself out. Let’s wash your face.”
He guided you to the sink, running the tap, cupping water in his hands to gently splash your cheeks, then wiping it with a towel.
And that’s when he saw it.
His movements stopped completely. The warm touch left your skin, the silence thickening in the air.
“Y/n,” he said in a strange voice. “What’s this?”
Panic seized your chest. You instinctively tried to turn, to run away from him, but the moment you spun around, you collided into a wall of muscle at the kitchen doorway.
Toji's hand caught your wrist tight. “Yo. Where you running off—”
The rest of his sentence never came. His gaze caught on your face and then dropped to the bruise Nanami had so carelessly exposed.
“The fuck is that on your face, Y/n?”
The question came out far louder than he meant it to, sharp enough to fill the entire apartment. Gojo and Geto came rushing in from the living room at full speed, faces alert, instantly reacting to Toji’s tone.
“What happened?” Gojo called out, voice laced with panic. “What's going on?”
“Is she hurt?” Geto's voice cut in.
Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.
Fuck.
No more hiding it now. It was too late.
“Mind telling us what the fuck is wrong, Y/n?” Toji’s voice was sharp and boiling over, all fire.
“Toji,” Nanami said sternly, “Don’t. She’s already scared, poor thing.”
Toji’s jaw visibly clenched. “I fuckin' asked her a million times. And she didn’t fuckin’ tell me.” His hand was still holding your wrist, his grip on you tighter than ever.
“I understand,” Nanami said, steady and commanding. “Just shut up for now and let her speak.”
“Come on, baby,” Geto murmured from behind you. “Who hurt you?”
You looked up at him. His voice was soft, but his face unreadable and still.
Gojo hadn’t said a word yet. But when you glanced over… His fists were clenched white. Knuckles bone-tight. His face was blank, eyes sharp and glassy, staring holes into the wall like he was barely holding himself together.
You swallowed hard, preparing yourself. And then you spoke. The words came out broken, cracked between hiccuped sobs, voice barely more than a whisper. You told them everything. About them. About what happened. About what they did. Then… you told them about today.
Your voice was shaking while you continued. “They… threatened me..… t-touched me, and they hit me, and said…” you swallowed the bile rising in your throat. “S-said horrible… things.…about me living here.....”
You looked down, eyes burning like hell, the tears dripping freely. “I didn’t… know what to do. I w-was scared. I didn’t want you to be mad. I—I’m sorry…”
For a long moment, the apartment was silent, just the sound of your breathing, sharp and broken.
Then Toji let go of your wrist, his hands curling into fists at his sides, shoulders tensed like a beast about to lunge.
“Where.” His voice was low, trembling with restraint. “Where are those fuckers.”
Nanami stepped beside you instantly, arm wrapping around your shoulders, holding you with the calmness of someone barely containing his own fury. He kissed your temple again. “You did nothing wrong, love. You were brave.”
You'd be lying if you said you didn't notice the way his jaw clenched like stone. His expression stayed unreadable, but his eyes had turned cold.
“Give me names,” he said.
Geto was the quietest. He pulled you toward him gently, cradling your face. His thumb brushed over the fading concealer on your cheek, exposing the bruise beneath. His eyes didn’t blink. “They touched you?”
You nodded, barely.
He exhaled through his nose. “I see.” And just like that, he turned to them. “Gonna need a few addresses.”
Satoru didn’t speak for a long time. He walked up to you slowly, like he was in a trance, then dropped to his knees in front of you. Hands reaching up to cradle your thighs, your hips, his forehead resting against your stomach. You could feel how his shoulders were shaking.
When he finally looked up, his voice was hoarse. “I let this happen.”
“No—no, Toruu, you didn’t—”
“I let this happen,” he repeated, eyes shining but sharp. “I wasn’t there.... I wasn't fuckin' there to protect you...”
You could see how his breathing getting heavier, his grin gone. His gaze had that strange glint you’d only seen once, and it had scared even Toji.
“They’re dead,” he said. “They’re fuckin' dead.”
“Do you know something about them, love?” Nanami’s voice was quiet. Careful.
“I… I don’t know much,” you mumbled, wiping your face with trembling fingers. “They’re seniors… and… I think they live in the college dorms. I’m not sure.”
Geto moved closer, bending down just slightly in front of you to face you. “How do they look?”
“One of them had bleached hair. Really tall. He’s got an ear piercing.” Your hand instinctively reached up, fingers brushing over your sore cheek. “He’s the one who…”
You didn’t even finish the sentence.
Toji’s voice snapped across the air like a whip. “Why the hell would you keep something like this to yourself?”
His tone wasn’t just angry. It was hurt, like your silence had punched him in the gut.
“Toji, That’s not— I was just… please understand—”
“What else, huh?” he growled, stepping forward, fury rolling off him in waves. “Think I’m a scaredy cat to slice some boys up? trust me… I’ve done more than that.”
“Toji,” Geto interrupted, calm but sharp, “let’s not scare her.”
But before either of them could say more, Satoru suddenly stood like something had snapped inside him. He didn’t say anything. Walked straight to the counter, snatched the car keys, and tossed them at Toji.
“Toji,” he said with a flat voice. “Take the car.”
Toji caught it midair with a dark grin. “Finally.”
Then he was gone, slipping out the door with a low curse under his breath. Gojo followed right behind him, not even sparing a word, his steps too calm to be safe. Nanami reached upto you and gently pulled your head into his chest again.
Geto stood there for another second, watching the two of them disappear out of his sight.
Nanami finally looked up at him. “Go with them,” he said flatly. “Or those two are gonna end up in a fuckin' jail cell.”
Geto let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “...Yeah. Yeah, alright.”
Without another word, he headed for the door. Then it clicked shut behind him. Leaving just you and Nanami.
The apartment suddenly felt a whole lot quieter, and your knees buckled a little from exhaustion.
Nanami sat with you on the couch, pulling you into his lap, tucking your head under his chin. His fingers found your hair, gentle and slow, stroking through the strands like a lullaby.
“It’s okay, love,” he murmured. “You’re safe now. They’re not gonna hurt you again.”
You sniffled again, hands gripping his shirt, your face still warm from crying.
“Just breathe,” he whispered softly in your ear. “I’ve got you.”
And you did.
***
Somewhere amidst the warmth of Nanami’s hand in your hair, you must’ve fallen asleep again. When you stirred awake, the apartment was dark and quiet. The low flicker of the TV still on. Your eyes blinked open slowly, and you shifted slightly.
Satoru was curled up at your feet, arms wrapped around your calves, face buried in the hem of your blanket.
“T—toru?” you whispered, voice still a little hoarse.
He stirred instantly, blinking up at you, eyes puffy with sleep. And… there was a bandage across his nose.
Your stomach dropped in an instant. “D-did they… did they hit you?”
“Not them, bunny,” he grumbled, groaning as he sat up and glared across the room. “This was Toji fuckin’ Fushiguro.”
Your head snapped up. “What?”
Toji, sprawled across the other end of the couch, let out a dismissive scoff. “Oii, ain't like I meant to hit him,” he grunted. “Should've kept his ass outta my swing.”
“Fuck you, Toji,” Gojo shot back.
“Guys…” you said, voice a little too weak. “What did you all do?”
Geto who was leaning lazily on the armrest, gave you a soft smile. “It’s fine, baby. We took care of it, okay?”
He stood, walking over to you and brushing your hair from your face. “Take a day off tomorrow. I’ll stay with you. Keep you company, alright?”
Gojo immediately perked up. “What?! I’m staying home too! I wanna be with bunny!”
Toji rolled his eyes at him. “Stop using her as an excuse to skip work, you lazy ass.”
“Ahh, look who’s talking,” Gojo said, stretching his arms dramatically.
Gojo pouted softly, then turned to you, blinking up with wide, shimmering eyes. “Bunnnny… can I sleep with you tonight? Just wanna make sure you’re okay. Please? please? please? pretty please?”
You smiled for the first time in what felt like forever and then gave him a small nod.
Gojo lit up immediately, the worry melting off his face as he shuffled closer and wrapped both arms around your waist, practically clinging to you while you leaned into him without a second thought.
You didn't go to college the next day.
Or the one after that.
By the time the weekend came and went, you finally convinced yourself it was okay to go back.
Even then, your hands wouldn't stop trembling as you walked through the campus gates on monday morning. You caught yourself glancing over your shoulder every few minutes. Every unfamiliar voice made your chest tighten. Every group of people had you looking twice.
But... Nothing.
No one waiting outside your lecture hall. No eyes following you through the canteen. No footsteps behind you in the library. Not even a glimpse of them.
You almost started believing it was over.... until that evening.
You were leaving campus, bag slung over your shoulder, phone in hand. The sky was pink and fading into purple.
And then he appeared. The tall one. With the piercings bleached hair.
He was standing a few steps away from the college gate. The moment you noticed him, you stopped. His head stayed lowered the entire time, like he couldn't even bring himself to meet your eyes.
He looked... awful.
One arm hung in a sling. His lip was split. One eye was swollen nearly shut, purple bruises blooming across what little skin you could still see.
“S-sorry...” he swallowed hard, still refusing to look up.
“W-won't do it again,” he stammered. “I swear... j-just... please... tell them... tell them I said sorry.”
Silence stretched between the two of you. You didn't answer him. After a long moment, you gave the smallest nod before turning around and walking away.
Somehow... your steps felt just a little lighter this time. Now your heart wasn’t racing with fear anymore. It was steady.
Because you knew you were safe. Because you had them.
