preface - this story is briefly inspired by edgar allen poes 'the raven', so i believe only one line will be taken directly from it, and the rest just use the poem as a rough draft. enjoy!
Years have passed since Suguru's untimely death, and it is not but a few until Satoru's comes along. He can't help but find himself ruminating, ruminating over the days where he could allow his eyes to hungrily scan the expanse of Suguru's marmoreal skin without foolishly formulating the sight through a memory. He was starved, to put it concisely, to feel the ghostly sheen of his love again.
In all that Satoru was, he was a greedy man, through and through. The greed consumed him, to have more, to be more. To be what Suguru saw in him. He was hungry.
-
The words felt so disgustingly easy to utter for Suguru. War. It almost made him laugh. When did it become so facile? He couldn't remember the moment when his rotted soul morphed into his young body, couldn't remember the moment when he started to end and the filth started to begin.
He wouldn't jest, though. This was him. This was everything he had to be. Even if it meant defying the laws of gravity, the laws of time, all the essence of himself was meant to end up here.
“On December 24th, when the sun sets, we shall begin the Night Parade of 100 Demons. At the crucible of curses, Shinjuku, Tokyo.”
Suguru himself does not pay attention to the declaration that’s coming from his lips. They are not his own anymore.
Satoru is there, of course. He looks at him. Suguru looks back. They do not meet eyes, Satoru always has his covered. He didn't used to. Suguru misses those days dearly.
-
Satoru had felt it before his body had recognized it. The man he loved, the man he was fighting on the front line against, was dying. Although, he had felt that in the man long before the dreadful day, long before the day of judgement.
For some reason, he does not rush to get there. Part of him thinks it’s because he already knows what he will see. The other part of him thinks it’s because he will ask Suguru to drag him through the depths alongside him.
He allows himself to arrive anyways.
For a moment, he just looks at Suguru. Somehow, he looks no different than he did the day before. He was departed from the body he has inhabited ever since he was a child. The body Satoru once held.
He kneels.
“You did not have to do this,”
Quoth the oh, so despaired man, “Satoru.”
Suguru spoke only that one word, as if his soul in that one word did he outpour.
Satoru does not grant him the pleasure of a reply. He does not grant himself the pleasure of a reply.
He just looks. Looks with eyes that were never his own at a body that was never Suguru’s. There was one thing the two man shared. Their passing was not their own.
Suguru did not want Satoru to see him. He did not want him to know the weep of his own heart was the outcry of his soul, the remnants of his love that clawed and clawed at Satoru’s body until scarification dug much further than the skin. And for any savior there ever was, let the defacements of his vessel be testaments of Suguru’s love.
For when the Gods uplift Satoru’s body from his crestfallen carcass, for when they take back what is theirs, he will be tainted. And as they gently press the bitter waters to his lips, he will be only but a man.
When Satoru falls, he will be all he can be. A man.
When Satoru falls, he can no longer be what he always wanted to be. His.
AN: this is short asf but i did wanna write smth so enjoy... also definitely different from what ive written before
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preface - this story is briefly inspired by edgar allen poes 'the raven', so i believe only one line will be taken directly from it, and the rest just use the poem as a rough draft. enjoy!
Years have passed since Suguru's untimely death, and it is not but a few until Satoru's comes along. He can't help but find himself ruminating, ruminating over the days where he could allow his eyes to hungrily scan the expanse of Suguru's marmoreal skin without foolishly formulating the sight through a memory. He was starved, to put it concisely, to feel the ghostly sheen of his love again.
In all that Satoru was, he was a greedy man, through and through. The greed consumed him, to have more, to be more. To be what Suguru saw in him. He was hungry.
-
The words felt so disgustingly easy to utter for Suguru. War. It almost made him laugh. When did it become so facile? He couldn't remember the moment when his rotted soul morphed into his young body, couldn't remember the moment when he started to end and the filth started to begin.
He wouldn't jest, though. This was him. This was everything he had to be. Even if it meant defying the laws of gravity, the laws of time, all the essence of himself was meant to end up here.
“On December 24th, when the sun sets, we shall begin the Night Parade of 100 Demons. At the crucible of curses, Shinjuku, Tokyo.”
Suguru himself does not pay attention to the declaration that’s coming from his lips. They are not his own anymore.
Satoru is there, of course. He looks at him. Suguru looks back. They do not meet eyes, Satoru always has his covered. He didn't used to. Suguru misses those days dearly.
-
Satoru had felt it before his body had recognized it. The man he loved, the man he was fighting on the front line against, was dying. Although, he had felt that in the man long before the dreadful day, long before the day of judgement.
For some reason, he does not rush to get there. Part of him thinks it’s because he already knows what he will see. The other part of him thinks it’s because he will ask Suguru to drag him through the depths alongside him.
He allows himself to arrive anyways.
For a moment, he just looks at Suguru. Somehow, he looks no different than he did the day before. He was departed from the body he has inhabited ever since he was a child. The body Satoru once held.
He kneels.
“You did not have to do this,”
Quoth the oh, so despaired man, “Satoru.”
Suguru spoke only that one word, as if his soul in that one word did he outpour.
Satoru does not grant him the pleasure of a reply. He does not grant himself the pleasure of a reply.
He just looks. Looks with eyes that were never his own at a body that was never Suguru’s. There was one thing the two man shared. Their passing was not their own.
Suguru did not want Satoru to see him. He did not want him to know the weep of his own heart was the outcry of his soul, the remnants of his love that clawed and clawed at Satoru’s body until scarification dug much further than the skin. And for any savior there ever was, let the defacements of his vessel be testaments of Suguru’s love.
For when the Gods uplift Satoru’s body from his crestfallen carcass, for when they take back what is theirs, he will be tainted. And as they gently press the bitter waters to his lips, he will be only but a man.
When Satoru falls, he will be all he can be. A man.
When Satoru falls, he can no longer be what he always wanted to be. His.
AN: this is short asf but i did wanna write smth so enjoy... also definitely different from what ive written before
preface - this story is briefly inspired by edgar allen poes 'the raven', so i believe only one line will be taken directly from it, and the rest just use the poem as a rough draft. enjoy!
Years have passed since Suguru's untimely death, and it is not but a few until Satoru's comes along. He can't help but find himself ruminating, ruminating over the days where he could allow his eyes to hungrily scan the expanse of Suguru's marmoreal skin without foolishly formulating the sight through a memory. He was starved, to put it concisely, to feel the ghostly sheen of his love again.
In all that Satoru was, he was a greedy man, through and through. The greed consumed him, to have more, to be more. To be what Suguru saw in him. He was hungry.
-
The words felt so disgustingly easy to utter for Suguru. War. It almost made him laugh. When did it become so facile? He couldn't remember the moment when his rotted soul morphed into his young body, couldn't remember the moment when he started to end and the filth started to begin.
He wouldn't jest, though. This was him. This was everything he had to be. Even if it meant defying the laws of gravity, the laws of time, all the essence of himself was meant to end up here.
“On December 24th, when the sun sets, we shall begin the Night Parade of 100 Demons. At the crucible of curses, Shinjuku, Tokyo.”
Suguru himself does not pay attention to the declaration that’s coming from his lips. They are not his own anymore.
Satoru is there, of course. He looks at him. Suguru looks back. They do not meet eyes, Satoru always has his covered. He didn't used to. Suguru misses those days dearly.
-
Satoru had felt it before his body had recognized it. The man he loved, the man he was fighting on the front line against, was dying. Although, he had felt that in the man long before the dreadful day, long before the day of judgement.
For some reason, he does not rush to get there. Part of him thinks it’s because he already knows what he will see. The other part of him thinks it’s because he will ask Suguru to drag him through the depths alongside him.
He allows himself to arrive anyways.
For a moment, he just looks at Suguru. Somehow, he looks no different than he did the day before. He was departed from the body he has inhabited ever since he was a child. The body Satoru once held.
He kneels.
“You did not have to do this,”
Quoth the oh, so despaired man, “Satoru.”
Suguru spoke only that one word, as if his soul in that one word did he outpour.
Satoru does not grant him the pleasure of a reply. He does not grant himself the pleasure of a reply.
He just looks. Looks with eyes that were never his own at a body that was never Suguru’s. There was one thing the two man shared. Their passing was not their own.
Suguru did not want Satoru to see him. He did not want him to know the weep of his own heart was the outcry of his soul, the remnants of his love that clawed and clawed at Satoru’s body until scarification dug much further than the skin. And for any savior there ever was, let the defacements of his vessel be testaments of Suguru’s love.
For when the Gods uplift Satoru’s body from his crestfallen carcass, for when they take back what is theirs, he will be tainted. And as they gently press the bitter waters to his lips, he will be only but a man.
When Satoru falls, he will be all he can be. A man.
When Satoru falls, he can no longer be what he always wanted to be. His.
AN: this is short asf but i did wanna write smth so enjoy... also definitely different from what ive written before
can sigma-chi teach nerdjo how to steal your heart ?
PLAYBOY TACTICS #1: GET YOUR MONEY UP !
taught by: toji zenin
“trying to win y/n over with only a hundred bucks to your name? yeah try again friend.”
⎚-⎚
toji zenin is black coffee breath, borrowed birkenstocks & a bank account filled with student loan refunds. but when he opens toru’s scotiabank account & finds it filled with less than a thousand dollars, his lips contort in disgust.
“no funds, no game, no bitches,” toji clicks his tongue. “you just a bum.”
“don’t you have a baby mama and kid you can barely support?”
“silence.”
toru gojo has messy blanche hair & candy pink nose & acid pooling in the jugular. tonight he’s got a date with the girl he swears is the love of his life & the pressure pokes at him like a cracked rib.
toji leans heavy on toru’s sheets. “i’m gonna ignore that comment. let’s focus on how you’re a gojo and have only a hundred bucks in your chequing account.”
toru’s cheeks flush. “i keep my money in my savings…they’re for textbooks.”
he doesn’t mention how every penny that’s not in his savings ends up in sato’s betting app. damn yumeko jabami wannabe-ass twin.
but toji doesn’t question it, so he doesn’t tell. instead he tosses the cell back at toru, arms crossed behind his head as he makes himself comfortable on his bed,
“textbooks don’t get you laid, friend. listen,” toji licks his canines. “i’m gonna give you three simple rules. follow ‘em or get dumped.”
RULE #1 : NONCHALANCE. ALWAYS.
toru gojo doesn’t make it past rule number one.
he fails because he doesn’t know how to not bite his cheek & choke on the blood when you stroll in with four inch heels & glossy lips & nails that toru prays will gouge his eyes out. he can’t fucking think. his throat’s all achey & you smell like sugar & his tongue dries so hard he swallows blood to keep it wet.
he tries to say you look beautiful. the words dribble off his tongue & plunk into his drink.
“—earth to toru? it’s really rude to stare.”
how shameful of him! he should dig his knees into the tile. grovel & beg till your pout dissolves & you decide you can forgive him for making you even the slightest bit uncomfortable.
but instead he shifts his arm over the booth seat. clenches his throat. reminds himself of the training toji worked oh-so hard to give him & pinches his thigh so his foot stops tapping so hard,
“s’not much to stare at.”
what ?
in front of him you’re fawn freckled & doe eyed, lashes fluttering like—heaven forbid—you hadn’t even heard him.
so he says it again. “uhm, there’s nothing much to stare at—“
“i heard you the first time.”
your tone cuts him like a knife. toru’s not sure when you start packing, but suddenly your purse is half full & your fork’s on the table & say her name—say her name—”
he calls your name & screams an apology. you leave as the words plunk into his drink.
TOJI’S REMARK : SON, I AIN’T TEACH YOU ALL THAT.
PLAYBOY TACTICS #2: GOOD GIRLS LIKE BAD BOYS
taught by: sato gojo
“girls don’t care about that ralph lauren shit. take off that polo and get in this tech, man.”
⎚-⎚
toru gojo’s room reeks of fratboy & paint thinner.
there’s two pizza boxes & a beer can rotting; sugar in sato’s molars & suguru’s piercings glimmering in the heat. & sukuna is here; lately he always is, laid up in toru’s bed with his phone raised over his head & palm inching dangerously towards his waistband. toru gojo knows better than to comment.
“you’ve got no game, twin. how are we even related?”
sato speaks with a mouthful of popcorn. beside him suguru’s snacking too, shoving things in his backpack & parting lips so sato can feed him the occasional kernel.
suguru scoffs, teeth sticky. “it’s a miracle she even lets herself be seen with you. poindexter looking ass.”
“i know, right? mr. bean ass closet. he won’t spend money on clothes and wears the same shirt in different colors everyday.”
“that’s not true—“toru grips his neckline. “—i’m not even wearing the shirt right now!”
he gestures to the material but geto only wrinkles his nose.
“can you please stop moving? i can hear the polyester in your hoodie..”
sato snorts. sukuna grunts & it’s not due to the joke.
suguru’s done packing now. he kisses sato’s cheek. ruffles toru’s hair. turns to dap up ryomen sukuna before deciding he probably shouldn’t. he takes his exit with a palm waving goodbye.
sato turns to his twin. “you know what you really need, man?”
“the ability to set boundaries? i don’t know why ryomen thinks it’s okay to fap in my sheets.”
“that,” sato nods, ignoring the wet sounds that leave toru’s bedside, “and a new fucking wardrobe.”
ⵌ SHOW TIME ! tw: satirical references to suicide.
toru gojo looks like a fucking idiot.
glasses half-foggy. nose cherry pink. dark jeans with too many rips & chains dangling everywhere. sato’s jacket has zippers that don’t actually zip anything, and the nicest thing about the outfit are the ugly birkenstocks that show his flushed pink toes.
toru greets you with a smile. eyes bright, just happy to look a mess.
“hey, y/n!”
“Hello. Are you mad?”
your tone is clipped & makes toru flinch. he swallows, blood sticky in his jugular. your nose is wrinkled & lashes fluttering & your gaze flits to the library exit like you might run away.
he won’t let that happen. not again.
so he clears his throat. pinches his wrist. pretends his brother’s jacket doesn’t fit too loose & itch at his chin: “nope, just trying something new! shall we get started on the project ?”
his smile stretches like plastic. there’s sweat on his chin & you think he has too many teeth.
—-
toru gojo keeps tap tap tapping.
birge-carnegie library is oakwood old & glimmering with glory. the air is heavy with heat & coffee shells & the bitter realization that toru gojo is never getting the girl.
at least, not at this rate.
it’s been twenty minutes & yet all toru can do is stare. god, you’re so pretty. swollen cheeks, pretty gaze, cherry coke lips pressed into a pout & clicky nails that stab toru in the gut as you tap at your keyboard. you’re so pretty & it’s fucking killing him because you’re pouting & toru swears you don’t even want to be here.
toru can only bite his lip. mind racing, heart aching.
you’re shivering now.
and it’s not quite obvious, & if toru wasn’t staring at you like you were girl turned god he probably wouldn’t have noticed. but he sees it. the way your lip quivers. the way you tug your sleeve over your wrist & pout when it flicks back into place. the way your shoulders squeeze like they’re clinging to the heat.
you don’t even know how you make toru’s chest hurt.
& before he can think it through he’s leaning over to place his—well, sato’s—jacket over you shoulders. he can only pray it doesn’t still smell like suguru.
“this smells like suguru.”
oh, well.
but you’re softening now; settling into your seat. lashes fluttering as you push your arms into the holes & turn back to him with gentle gaze & eyes star-achingly bright.
“thank you,”
your voice is too soft. his heart is too sticky.
sato’s jacket swallows you whole.
toru thinks it’s cute. you think it’s annoying. it’s been five minutes & you’re still shifting it over your skin, pulling & tugging & pouting when you discover yet another zipper.
you frown. “i feel like a jingle bell.”
“merry christmas.” “it’s a tuesday in may..”
it is. toru doesn’t know why he said that. he’ll likely hang himself when he gets home.
but the embarrassment doesn’t end there. you stand up—just to tug the jacket over your thighs, just to straighten it out—but toru gojo doesn’t know any better so he fucking lunges—
“toru!” you gasp, startled.
toru freezes; glasses tilting off his face, mouth part open. & he looks at you, eyes wide & cheeks flushed & so fucking startled, & he thinks he’ll definitely be seeing that noose when he gets home.
“sorry—i’m sorry—i didn’t mean to—“
“you scared me.”
you’re gripping the hem of your jacket now—his jacket, sato’s, whatever—and god, he’s such an idiot. so fucking stupid & can never do anything right & will likely die knowing he was born into this world just to leave as his brother’s shadow. and worst of all, that he will never, ever, get the girl.
“i’m so sorry,” he trembles. he doesn’t look at you, he can’t & he doesn’t deserve to, so it’s fine. “i wasn’t thinking. i just saw you standing up and i thought—i thought—“
he swallows. looks away.
but you don’t let him off that easy.
“you thought what ?”
he doesn’t answer. god, he looks ridiculous. curled into himself, palms on his knees all stupid & polite. cheeks flushed, glasses foggy. lips half-bitten & a flushed gaze that never meets yours.
giving you his jacket left him in a wife beater two sizes too big. he looks small & scrawny & you think you want to kiss him.
“toru.”
he exhales, long & slow. he still doesn’t look at you. you wish he would.
“i thought you were gonna leave again.”
“what ?”
he continues, “like at the restaurant. when you—when you stood up. walked out,” he swallows. “i didn’t want you to leave again. i didn’t want to watch you go.”
god. your throat is far too tight. your nails itch at your wrist like you’re not quite sure what to do with yourself.
“i’m not gonna leave,”
your voice is too sweet, too gentle. it sounds like honey & it spoils in the heat.
“you promise?”
you only sigh, walk over and slip into the seat beside him. you don’t say you promise but toru thinks he’ll be fine for now.
SATO’S REMARK : KINDA PITIFUL, BUT HEY, IT’S SOMETHING !
PLAYBOY TACTICS #3: NEG NEG NEG
taught by: geto suguru
“it’s all about the mystery, man. you gotta lower her value to make her see yours.”
⎚-⎚
“so how do you neg?”
“well personally, i’d start with calling her a monkey,” geto has his tongue in his cheek, desk chair groaning with a creaaak as sato spins him playfully. “unless she’s black. you shouldn’t say that if she’s black.”
“i don’t think i should say that either way..”
sato rests his chin on the chair head, cheeks peach-tinged & grin clumsy.
“probably shouldn’t!”
geto shrugs, tapping at toru’s keyboard. it’s 12 PM monday & the gang’s all here: suguru’s playing the sims 4 on toru’s new PC. sukuna is asleep with his dick in his hands. sato is whining because suguru doesn’t want to have a gay love story with him in the sims. and toji’s not here—12 PM monday means a new shift at his new job. toru hopes skai jackson will take it easy on him—working as her personal AI prompt writer must certainly be exhausting.
“the logic is simple—” suguru smacks sato’s hand away from the keyboard, “if you subtly insult her, she’ll feel the urge to prove herself. and her trying to prove herself—” another smack to sato’s stubborn hands, “tricks her brain into thinking you’re worth impressing.”
“and eventually, that she likes you!” sato cheers. “woah, sugu—when did you install wicked whims?”
“huh—? what the hell? why does my sim keep trying to fuck bob pancakes!”
“make him fuck mine instead.” / “please slit your throat.”
toru breathes, drags a palm over his face. his brother & best friend are fighting now—god knows about what—but he’s more concerned about the fact that he’s got a movie date with you in two hours and today’s game plan is far from complete.
“suguru’s right. and for a feisty bitch like y/n ? negging is even more crucial.”
sukuna’s voice is close to guttural & has all eyes snapping towards him. he’s awake now, cheeks flushed & bleary gazed & eyes half-lidded. his cock is sticky on his stomach & his palm strokes it lovingly.
toru frowns. “don’t call her a bitch. i’m serious.”
“and don’t talk with your dick in your hands. i’m disgusted.” suguru snarks.
sukuna shrugs, still lazily palming himself for the world to see. suguru wrinkles his nose in disgust & turns his head back to the game. he rage quits when he turns to find his sim palming himself too.
“neg her as much as possible,” sukuna breathes, toes curling. “humble her, make her second guess—shit.” he’s pumping faster now, gasps short & breath heavy. “make her—fuck! m’gonna cum—!”
sukuna blows his load. suguru & sato have long left the room, & toru is still searching for that noose.
ⵌ SHOW TIME !
cineplex at yonge-dundas is too-bright screens & overpriced popcorn. even now, toru’s got caramel sticky in his teeth & palms crossed in a silent prayer. there’s blood in his throat & an ache in his ribs & he’s got a tie on his neck for no fucking reason.
you walk in looking like a midsummer dream.
toru really does think you’re girl turned god. after all, most girls his age aren’t honey-mouthed or starry-eyed or flush-cheeked like you are. you walk in in tight top & short skirt, lashes fluttering as you glance around the room in quiet search of him. your eyes are all big & your lips all pouty & toru bets you don’t even notice. bets you don’t even know how you leave him sweat-soaked & feverish.
“toru!”
you’ve sauntered up to him now, purse in your hands & grin on your lips. your smile is clumsy & satoru’s heart must be too because it swells over & bursts like overripe fruit. his vocal chords slosh against his throat like blood.
“hi,” he blurts. “you look pretty.”
you tilt your head & look up at him all warm-cheeked & doe-eyed. “thank you.”
it’s silent for a beat; toru’s eyes boring into yours with two cracked teeth & a kernel in his mouth. you’re so pretty & you look so sweet & he wants to kiss you so fucking bad.
you break the silence. “you like my outfit?” you step back, voice soft. “i went shopping yesterday.”
toru wants to ask if you did that just for him—just for today’s date with him—but he doesn’t. he knows better so he doesn’t.
instead he drinks you in. he looks like a butterfly trapped in a hazy addiction: pupils blown & bleary eyed, jam smeared cheeks & a quickly reddening nose. his lips are half-parted / his mouth is half-dry.
your outfit’s simple but oh-so effective: denim skirt too short on your thighs, black off-shoulder with ruffles on the sleeves, kitten heels to match your top. god, you’re so fucking cute.
and because you’re so cute, toru can’t fuck this up. so he decides it’s time to implement suguru’s lesson from earlier in the day.
“you look incredible,” he swallows, knuckles shaky. “did you—uhm. did you pick black to hide your stomach rolls?”
toru gojo shouldn’t have said that.
he knows because your lips part immediately. cheeks flushed, eyes wide. you’re frozen in front of him, lips quivering with something toru recognizes as embarrassment.
oh jesus—ya allah—great universe—what has he done?
before toru’s joints can unfreeze you’re already turning away, & toru swears there are tears in your eyes. he’s sworn he’ll never let you leave again without a fight so even though his vocal chords slosh against his throat like blood, he manages to speak.
“y/n, wait!” he gasps, already moving. “i didn’t mean that—! your body is tea! your body is tea!”
GETO’S REMARK : MAN, CALL YOUR FUCKIN’ UBER.
PLAYBOY TACTICS #4 : GET YOUR GAME FACE ON !
taught by: ryomen sukuna
“you know your problem, man ? you’re not taking this seriously, not locked in at all. let me put you on, friend.”
⎚-⎚
sukuna sighs, flops out of toru’s bed with his dick hanging out of his boxers. he has his elbows on his knees & a palm on his chin & precum sticky on his abdomen.
“i think it’s time i stepped in and gave you some advice.”
“you have a porn addiction. i think i’m good.”
PLAYBOY TACTICS #5: OR MAYBE…BE YOURSELF ?
taught by: nanami kento
“you’ve been taking advice from those idiots all this time? oh…”
⎚-⎚
in the men’s bathroom of birge-carnegie library, toru gojo has his pulse in his teeth & his heart in the sink.
4PM today toru gojo walked into the library with too many books in his hands & glasses begging to tilt off. you sat at a table near the center, & when toru walked past he saw it: your gaze meeting his before burying itself between a thick book. the bite of your lips & the way your nose crinkled with disgust.
did you pick black to hide your stomach rolls?
how embarassing! toru gojo should hang himself now—or at least after returning his library books. the overdue fees were no joke. his life was one however, & the heavy realization has his knuckles rousing white on the bathroom sink as he sheds his nerves by the pint.
his eyes are red tinged. cheeks bloody. nose too red & throat too sticky so when he tries to breathe it comes out as a hiccup. toru gojo is truly pathetic. he’s known it his whole life but now the fact has chewed him up & won’t spit him back out.
“hello. what is your problem.”
kento nanami has a tone too clipped. he’s standing at the bathroom door & his mere presence has toru gojo startled. toru jumps back, face contorting in alarm, tears still sticky on his lashes. “kento!”
“in the flesh,” nanami pushes up his glasses. he’s in pressed suit as always, looking years older than toru & his age mates. “why are you loitering in the bathroom? this is very unsanitary.”
toru sniffles, wipes his eyes. “i’m sorry—” he tries for a swallow but it comes out as a hiccup & his eyes are burning all over again because he can’t even fucking breathe right. “—i’m sorry, i’m sorry for everything. i fucked up like i always do and i should’ve used that noose ages ago and i, and i—“
nanami’s brows knit in alarm. toru’s sobbing now, and kento joins him at his side.
“toru,” his voice is soft. “tell me what’s going on.”
if you told nanami kento that going to the carnegie library today would mean comforting one of the gojo twins in the men’s bathroom instead of picking up the new BL manhwa he’d requested the library to stock, he would’ve looked you in the face & laughed.
but here he is, awkwardly patting toru’s back & not reading the latest volume of nerd project.
in his shaky distress, toru recounts everything—the lessons with the sigma-chi boys. sukuna’s refusal to stop jerking off in his bed. him pointing out your stomach rolls—& kento can only shake his head. how ridiculous. he should be reading about andrew young & luke davis right now!
but kento gently wipes toru’s tears. he’s always been rather fond of the younger twin anyways. “have you tried being normal? as in, being yourself?”
toru’s eyes swell, big. he looks stunned—why didn’t he think of that?
but he quickly deflates. he had thought of it. but he’s much too uncool—scrawny & weak & only good for reading textbooks & mediating fights between geto & his dumb brother. he had no choice but to lean into the larp.™
“i can’t—“ he gasps. “—she wouldn’t like me. i’m not cool—“
“and you think the others are cool?” kento raises a brow. “toji, whose a deadbeat dad while in college and sells himself to earn money—“
“he doesn’t do that anymore,” toru gulps. “he works for skai jackson now.”
nanami nods. “and sato, who has a gambling addiction and loses thousands to hakari every week,” toru flinches.
“suguru, who’s addicted to the sims and is in a homoerotic friendship with your brother.”
another flinch.
“sukuna, who is—“
“i didn’t take any advice from sukuna.”
kento nods, “well done. but you know he has a porn addiction and an exhibitionist kink.”
toru gulps, “yes.”
“so no more listening,” kento claps his back. “you apologize. explain to her what you’ve been doing all this while, but also take accountability. you’re smarter than this. you should’ve known better.”
“i’m sorry. she makes me stupid.”
“i know,” kento sighs, softening. toru’s wiping his eyes now. “but you shouldn’t be apologizing to me. go out there and make things right. and wash your hands first.”
toru nods eagerly. he doesn’t even remember to wipe his hands dry, and nanami can only shake his head half-fondly as he watches the younger twin go.
—————
when toru finds you, there’s a pen in your teeth & you won’t meet his eyes.
toru knows you see him standing there beside you. but you don’t flinch. your lashes flutter & you blink slow like you’re totally engrossed in whatever you’re reading. is that percy jackson?
toru shakes his head. then wishes he didn’t, because he must’ve looked really stupid physically shaking his thoughts away. “y/n.”
you don’t respond. his throat folds.
but he keeps going anyways. “y/n, i owe you an apology,” he clears his throat, & he thanks god because he doesn’t hiccup this time. “i’m sorry. i’m really truly sorry. especially for yesterday,” he gulps. “—and your body is tea.”
irritation rises in your features & quickly dissolves.
“uhm,” he’s still standing there, arms behind his back, feet shuffling. “i didn’t—i don’t actually think you have stomach rolls.”
you shut your book with a bam! “can you please stop talking about my stomach?”
“i’m sorry! oh my god i’m so sorry, i’ve been taking advice from my brother and the others on how to be cool and make you like me back but i just ended up being a total idiot! and it’s stupid! it’s so stupid and i should know better but i like you so much that i can’t fucking think and i’m so sorry for hurting you and i’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it if you’d let me and—“
“toru. you’re rambling.”
“i’m sorry!” he panics. “please forgive me!”
“oh my god,” you sigh, palm dragging over your face. “can you please sit down first?”
he sits across from you; hands digging into his knees, back too straight to be healthy.
“so you’ve been taking advice from sato and the others all this time?”
“uh, yes.”
“in what universe is that wise?”
he deflates. “i don’t know how to be wise when it comes to you.”
your tongue’s in your cheek. right now, toru gojo is something akin to a kicked puppy. he’s got a gaze that won’t meet yours & his neck is rash red & you think he might explode.
you click your tongue. “i had my suspicions.”
his head snaps up. “you knew?”
“no, i suspected it,” you tuck a book into your bag, then another, and another. “i first thought so when you showed up at the library looking like ken carson. sato set you up, by the way. even he left his opium era back in 2023.”
“he said girls like guys who dress like that..”
“he lied,” you hum, “i prefer your usual button ups anyway. you look all smart and sexy.”
“thank you. wait—what?”
“mhm,” toru’s not sure when you get up, but now you’re sitting beside him; and god, you’re in a skirt again, and toru wishes you wouldn’t wear skirts. his brain acts all funny when you wear them. he gulps.
“for a smart guy, you’re awfully slow,” your thighs are touching his & your perfume’s in his lungs & fuck, his heart is doing that funny thing again! “do you think i would’ve asked you to dinner that first night if i didn’t like you?”
“the night i said you weren’t much to look at and you left?”
you grit your teeth. “yes, toru. that night.”
he swallows, pupils shifting because he can’t handle your pretty eyes glaring at him. “i thought you did it for a dare.”
you poke his temple & he winces. “i would never do that. you idiot, i’ve liked you since you bumped into me at the library and accidentally said ‘pretty’ instead of apologizing!”
“oh.”
“‘oh’ is right,” you sigh, falling into his shoulder. you don’t miss the way he freezes under your skin. “you’re such an idiot…”
“i really like you.” toru blurts, cheeks pink. “and uhm, i’m happy you like me back. and i think you’re beautiful. so beautiful. you’re probably the most beautiful girl in the world.” he swallows. “and i’m happy you like me back. did i say that already?”
you tilt your head to look up at him from his shoulder. his gaze is trained on his knees, neck flushed, ears pink. & you’re a devil of a girl so you stroke his arm when you purr:
“look at me when you confess. please?”
toru squeaks. because you sound so pretty when you say that in his arm. because the heat of your touch sends shockwaves to his spine & his sleeve is likely sticky from your gloss but he doesn’t care. he doesn’t fucking care.
he turns to you, slow. and you’re already gazing up at him, cheeks flushed, lashes low, sun-soaked & bleary eyed. your lips are so pretty. you’re so pretty. he can’t believe he almost wanted to kill himself. what an idiot.
he clears his throat. “i like you. i wanna kiss you so bad.”
toru’s eyes widen. he didn’t mean the last part—well he did, but he didn’t mean to say it & oh god he’s fucked up again & he felt you tense against him & he’s made you so uncomfortable & you’re gonna leave him again and—
“kiss me,” you breathe. “please, toru?”
his heart hammers. you sound so pretty when you say that. why do you sound so pretty when you say that?
& more importantly, who is he not to obey? so he does as you ask—cups your cheeks oh-so softly with rouge knuckles & gentle hands. and your lashes flutter shut, & oh my god he’s really doing this.
he presses his lips to your own. you sigh into his mouth.
——-
oh, but the story doesn’t end there.
four bookshelves behind & a corner to the right, the gang’s all there. sato & suguru are leaning over the corner, stacked over each other like this is some sort of cartoon. sukuna has a granola bar in his hand instead of his dick. toji’s still not here, still slaving away typing AI prompts for skai jackson’s snapchat stories. nanami kento is here though, standing just enough to the side so no one can mistake him as friends with these idiots.
“what the hell,” sato whispers. “did he just kiss y/n?”
“no way. i think he actually did.”
“why are you guys whispering? you look fucking stupid.”
“says the guy who talks with his dick in his hands.”
“i’ll put it in your mouth next, bastard. or you only like sato’s cock in it?”
“ayoooo. you right but not too much, not too much.”
“who the hell said he was right?!”
nanami takes his leave. that’s enough stupidity for one day.
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Hello everyone, given what has been happening to me ( @kamitv ) and my fellow writers ( @tonycries & @madamechrissy ) on here lately, I've decided to come on here (my unflagged account, lol) and make a simple tutorial on how to see mature content on your account/dashboard, wtv.
If you are receiving the following message when looking for your favorite writer's blog, works, etc;
The following is what you'll need to do to fix that.
First you need to go to tumblr's website, I'm unsure why but the option simply does not appear anywhere on the app and you must go through the web for this. (This tutorial is given from the perspective of visiting tumblr.com via mobile device) From there on it's pretty simple.
Once here, you'll need to click on the little hamburger up in your top left corner;
Then the following drop down menu will appear and you need to go to your settings! Under settings, click account.
Once there, you’ll simply need to scroll down until you find “Content Labels”. If you’re facing this issue, it will likely have “Show mature content” as off. Turn it on, along with “Blur mature content” and everything should return to normal for you on both the website and the app.
P.S. IF YOUR ACCOUNT IS REGISTERED UNDER THE AGE OF 18, THIS WILL (obviously) NOT WORK!!! & to my knowledge, tumblr doesn’t allow you to change your bday without reaching out to them, etc.
in which someone insults you infront of husband!sukuna, but you are the farthest thing from y/n coded
cw : suggestiveness, sukuna is OVULATING and he needs it bad, lots of cuss words, some demeaning terms, mentions of.. unconventional pregnancy.. just a silly crackfic, reader is a bad bitch rocking louboutins
AN : also not proofread cuz idgaf (the only reason i wrote this was for the last line)
it was obvious the skank in the corner of the work party hadn’t meant for you to hear her insult, it was cowardly. they were words you utter of someones name when you are positive they arent nearby. well, this one was a little stupid, you assumed. not a whole lot going on upstairs. she thought it was appropriate to shoot a crude, vile, frankly nasty comment at you during a work party. and the icing on the cake? it was infront of your husband, sukuna. he was a man you held utmost respect for, and he held even more respect for you. so no, you would not let this slide.
“god, look at her in that dress. she looks huge. how could she embarrass her husband like that?”
it was not a mouthful of words, only one or two sentences, packed with insults. the minute the words grace your ears, you don’t freeze. you don’t look up at the ground and tear up. you don’t keep the sharp, yet steady look on your face for show. because it wasn’t pretend, you just really never gave a fuck. hell, the words didn’t even bruise your ego. you just cocked a brow, the corner of your lips twitching slightly into something that’s not quite a smile, not quite a sheepish grin. no. it was something.. uncomfortable. something silent.
and you weren’t keeping your composure solely because your big ego was fueling you, no. you were unaffected because her words simply had no truth to them. sure, you were on the bigger side. but you filled out… nice, to say the least. full breasts, soft and plump hips. sure, you used to be obsessed with the reflection that you would dread to face in the mirror, obsessed with the measurement of your waist. but now? you just really do not care.
it’s clear that your dear husband also hears the words, because his jaw goes slack. he simply does not bother hiding the absolute look of pure, unadulterated disgust on his face. he was in the middle of a conversation with one of his colleagues, uraume, but he went silent. his jaw ticked once he finally realized he needed to shut it. he set his wine glass down, getting ready to stomp over there and rip that bitch a new one. but, sukuna is taking one glance at your face, and he grins. he knows that look.
you were.. bold. bold, but never lacking class. that’s one of your traits he liked to take pride in.
he doesn’t even try to stop you, just keeping that same proud grin on his face as you curtly spin on your red-bottoms and walk calmy to the corner where the perpetrator resides. when she sees you, her eyes go wide. she chokes on her spit slightly, straightening up immediately. you bite back a scoff. it was pathetic. now, by no means did you have a superiority complex, but.. she was a mere intern at the business firm you managed. who does she think she is?
“hi-…” you cut yourself off, narrowing your eyes pitifully to observe the name on her name tag. her face flushed in pure embarrassment, even more so when she looks up behind you to see sukuna, just standing there. “hi, louisa. i couldn’t help but over hear a few words you said about me, my looks in particular.”
you fight the urge to laugh. “now, im not the type to be over-confrontational. by no means do i have a big head. but — quite frankly, your words are nothing less of uncouth.” you couldn’t help but spit the last word, a sickeningly sweet smile on your face. her frame goes rigid, and her friend doesnt even try to hide how fast she scurries away.
“do not get me wrong, i’m not offended. i would be very disappointed if you assumed that, if you thought so little of me. but, i do not necessarily enjoy hearing my name being harassed by a skank with a cuckold for a husband. honestly , it’s embarrassing, if you were to ask me. your bottom teeth look oddly similar to the kraft mac n cheese i cook my husband, and im not sure how yours can bear you.”
you look behind you briefly, mimicking the smile on your husbands face, you latch onto his arm sweetly. he almost grins wider once he hears the last part. hell yeah, you cooked him kraft mac n cheese. and hell yeah he ate every ounce of it. he was completely confident in his masculinity. louisa is shaking. literally trembling, she looks as if her dog just got massacred. you almost felt bad. almost.
“now, mrs. louisa, i mean no disrespect whatsoever. i very kindly ask that if you have a problem with the clothing i wear and how much you believe im.. whats the word you used… ah! yes - embarrassing my husband — i ask that you come to me instead of gossiping like a schoolgirl. i hope you enjoy the party!”
and then you walk away without another word, arm intertwined with sukunas. the party will go on, and louisa will most likely lose her job. you fail to notice sukunas hardening member straining against his work slacks. lord, the things you do to him.
once you guys finish up the conversation with uraume, you two head to a corner of your own, free of whiny bitches. sukuna has been eyeing you all night, of course, his eyes are always on you. but even more since you told the intern off. he liked seeing you aggressive, it reminded him of himself. he was so incredibly turned on right now, and he had no problem announcing it. well.. thats a lie. he USUALLY had no problem announcing it.
leaning down, his chapped lips brush your ear and he lets out a shaky breath. was he.. nervous? he brushes the hair off of one side of your neck to the other, an action that undoubtedly makes you shiver.
“y’know… i might have to take you up on your offer from yesterday.” he grumbles, his voice laced with need and embarrassment he cant contain.
humming in slight confusion , you furrow your perfectly done brows and crane your neck to look at him, a small pout on your lips. he groans, disappointed you cant read his mind, leaning in so his nose is almost against yours. and lord, maybe somebody slipped your husband aphrodisiacs, because the next words that leave his mouth almost cause you to have a brain contusion from laughter.
in which someone insults you infront of husband!sukuna, but you are the farthest thing from y/n coded
cw : suggestiveness, sukuna is OVULATING and he needs it bad, lots of cuss words, some demeaning terms, mentions of.. unconventional pregnancy.. just a silly crackfic, reader is a bad bitch rocking louboutins
AN : also not proofread cuz idgaf (the only reason i wrote this was for the last line)
it was obvious the skank in the corner of the work party hadn’t meant for you to hear her insult, it was cowardly. they were words you utter of someones name when you are positive they arent nearby. well, this one was a little stupid, you assumed. not a whole lot going on upstairs. she thought it was appropriate to shoot a crude, vile, frankly nasty comment at you during a work party. and the icing on the cake? it was infront of your husband, sukuna. he was a man you held utmost respect for, and he held even more respect for you. so no, you would not let this slide.
“god, look at her in that dress. she looks huge. how could she embarrass her husband like that?”
it was not a mouthful of words, only one or two sentences, packed with insults. the minute the words grace your ears, you don’t freeze. you don’t look up at the ground and tear up. you don’t keep the sharp, yet steady look on your face for show. because it wasn’t pretend, you just really never gave a fuck. hell, the words didn’t even bruise your ego. you just cocked a brow, the corner of your lips twitching slightly into something that’s not quite a smile, not quite a sheepish grin. no. it was something.. uncomfortable. something silent.
and you weren’t keeping your composure solely because your big ego was fueling you, no. you were unaffected because her words simply had no truth to them. sure, you were on the bigger side. but you filled out… nice, to say the least. full breasts, soft and plump hips. sure, you used to be obsessed with the reflection that you would dread to face in the mirror, obsessed with the measurement of your waist. but now? you just really do not care.
it’s clear that your dear husband also hears the words, because his jaw goes slack. he simply does not bother hiding the absolute look of pure, unadulterated disgust on his face. he was in the middle of a conversation with one of his colleagues, uraume, but he went silent. his jaw ticked once he finally realized he needed to shut it. he set his wine glass down, getting ready to stomp over there and rip that bitch a new one. but, sukuna is taking one glance at your face, and he grins. he knows that look.
you were.. bold. bold, but never lacking class. that’s one of your traits he liked to take pride in.
he doesn’t even try to stop you, just keeping that same proud grin on his face as you curtly spin on your red-bottoms and walk calmy to the corner where the perpetrator resides. when she sees you, her eyes go wide. she chokes on her spit slightly, straightening up immediately. you bite back a scoff. it was pathetic. now, by no means did you have a superiority complex, but.. she was a mere intern at the business firm you managed. who does she think she is?
“hi-…” you cut yourself off, narrowing your eyes pitifully to observe the name on her name tag. her face flushed in pure embarrassment, even more so when she looks up behind you to see sukuna, just standing there. “hi, louisa. i couldn’t help but over hear a few words you said about me, my looks in particular.”
you fight the urge to laugh. “now, im not the type to be over-confrontational. by no means do i have a big head. but — quite frankly, your words are nothing less of uncouth.” you couldn’t help but spit the last word, a sickeningly sweet smile on your face. her frame goes rigid, and her friend doesnt even try to hide how fast she scurries away.
“do not get me wrong, i’m not offended. i would be very disappointed if you assumed that, if you thought so little of me. but, i do not necessarily enjoy hearing my name being harassed by a skank with a cuckold for a husband. honestly , it’s embarrassing, if you were to ask me. your bottom teeth look oddly similar to the kraft mac n cheese i cook my husband, and im not sure how yours can bear you.”
you look behind you briefly, mimicking the smile on your husbands face, you latch onto his arm sweetly. he almost grins wider once he hears the last part. hell yeah, you cooked him kraft mac n cheese. and hell yeah he ate every ounce of it. he was completely confident in his masculinity. louisa is shaking. literally trembling, she looks as if her dog just got massacred. you almost felt bad. almost.
“now, mrs. louisa, i mean no disrespect whatsoever. i very kindly ask that if you have a problem with the clothing i wear and how much you believe im.. whats the word you used… ah! yes - embarrassing my husband — i ask that you come to me instead of gossiping like a schoolgirl. i hope you enjoy the party!”
and then you walk away without another word, arm intertwined with sukunas. the party will go on, and louisa will most likely lose her job. you fail to notice sukunas hardening member straining against his work slacks. lord, the things you do to him.
once you guys finish up the conversation with uraume, you two head to a corner of your own, free of whiny bitches. sukuna has been eyeing you all night, of course, his eyes are always on you. but even more since you told the intern off. he liked seeing you aggressive, it reminded him of himself. he was so incredibly turned on right now, and he had no problem announcing it. well.. thats a lie. he USUALLY had no problem announcing it.
leaning down, his chapped lips brush your ear and he lets out a shaky breath. was he.. nervous? he brushes the hair off of one side of your neck to the other, an action that undoubtedly makes you shiver.
“y’know… i might have to take you up on your offer from yesterday.” he grumbles, his voice laced with need and embarrassment he cant contain.
humming in slight confusion , you furrow your perfectly done brows and crane your neck to look at him, a small pout on your lips. he groans, disappointed you cant read his mind, leaning in so his nose is almost against yours. and lord, maybe somebody slipped your husband aphrodisiacs, because the next words that leave his mouth almost cause you to have a brain contusion from laughter.
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cw : major character death, graphic elements, plot twist that is definitely triggering but i can’t spoil so read at your own risk, toji is DEVASTATED, pure angst, (greys anatomy mention)
AN : this is my first fanfic be kind guys… not proofread cuz i never gaf
this wasn’t supposed to happen. toji fushiguro never lost. he never settled for less than a win streak with the same number of the amounts of fights hes had. but you? god, you were innocent. you didn’t have the same blood on your hands that he did. you were soft. you were steady. and he was rotten. oh, so rotten.
the mission went south. a curse was your downfall, striked you right in the neck. and you were strong. you’ve fought gojo, sparred toji, fought suguru geto. you came out unharmed. it’s an anomaly that may never be figured out that you got harmed from a grade 3 curse. toji will sit awake every night, blurry eyes trained on his popcorn ceiling, wondering what went wrong. how did this happen to you? it wasn’t fair. you of all people. the girl that prepared toji bento boxes with onigiris that have smiley faces on them every. single. day, without failure. despite being a sorcerer yourself, you always made time for him.
gurgles sound in the dark alley, the atmosphere was kin to a slasher-movie scene. it didn’t feel like one. it felt like toji was being stabbed repeatedly, despite you being the one bleeding. blood leaks out of your lips, the same lips that are usually kiss-bitten by his own. your eyes are teary, but there’s a dopey smile on your face as your lover holds down on the wound smack-dab in the middle of your neck. it was inches away from your jugular, he assumed. you shouldve been dead seconds from the strike.
“don’t y’fucking do that. do-dont-“ he takes a deep breath, not even bothering to hide his tears. toji fushiguro never showed weakness, not even in his worst moments. but right now? he couldn’t find it in himself to care. that smile, the smile that usually graced your face after sex, or after he wakes you up with very burnt waffles — you eat them anyway. that fucking smile couldn’t be the last thing he saw on your face, not like this.
“don’t y’dare smile at me like yer l-…leaving me.” snot drips down onto your neck, his snot, his tears. a mixture of his love, the pain, the ache that burnt his being. he couldn’t breathe. he couldnt handle this. if you left him, toji would be broken. he couldn’t go on. physically , his body would break down. decompose. maybe his heart would go first, or his lungs. he couldn’t breathe without you. you are his lungs, you are the neurons that fire in his brain, you are him.
letting out a pained laugh, one that sounds more like a wince, you bring your trembling hand up to his that’s pressed on your neck. lifting your free hand up, you wipe tears off his blood-stained cheeks, then you press your thumb in the furrow between his brows, trying to smooth it out. trying to smooth his pain. “y-you’ll ge-get - haah - wrinkles , old man.” trying to calm your shaky voice, swallowing — which ultimately ends in more blood spurting from your neck.
he shakes his head, over and over, as if hes trying to rid the blood on his hands, the softness on yours. he was almost angry at you. angry at how you could be so beautiful, so angelic, while you’re toeing the line of death. you always told him how death was such a scary concept to you. you were loud, you loved in the loud, you lived in the loud. death was nothing. you would simply cease to exist.
“god fucking damnit. wh-where is nanami? where is ino? where the fuck are the-they?” you could tell he was hanging onto false hope. which was ridiculous, toji was the most pessimistic man you knew. what you also knew, however, is that you weren’t leaving the cold floor of this alley with your heart beating. there were still so many things you needed to say, stories you needed to tell. opening your mouth, you got ready to spout what the man assumed was one of those sappy death speeches. he was having none of it.
“d-don’t talk, babydoll. save your energy.”
“s-shh… shh.. ba-baby.. ‘ji.. lis-listen to me. just listen. you c..cannot li-live in pain. you-you’ll wonder wh-what you couldve done. nothing. a-always remember there was n-nothing you do.” pausing, you lift your hand from his and put both of them on his cheeks, framing his sharp — now soft, face. “t-this heartache? the pain y-you feel right now? the pain y-you’ll feel after im gone? i-it will go away if y-you let it. it’s an i-intruder. what do f-fushiguros do to intruders?”
his head is tilted down now, black fringe hanging over his watery eyes. strangled sobs rip from his throat, and right now he wished he was the one in your place. he wished he was the one who couldn’t cry because there was a hole in their voicebox. you lift his head, a bittersweet look on your face.
“a-answer me. pl-please, ‘ji.” you sputter out. the blood coming from your mouth only increased. the orfices of your lungs were filling. you try to lift your body up, he only wraps his arms tighter around you.
“k-kill them.” he breathes, his voice ridden with pure agony. at this time, he was starting to realize there was nothing that could be done. but he wouldn’t surrender. no. not with you. not with you dying in his arms.
“t-thats right. i love y-you, ji. al-always will.” another gurgle from the depths of your wound. they were getting louder. it was like they were mocking you, mocking your confession. mocking the lie you added onto the end of it. you wouldn’t always love him. you wouldnt always be here. you wouldnt even be here tomorrow.
“w-woman, i s-swear to whatever go-god is up there that if y-you die i will k-“ putting a thumb to his lip before he can speak, you giggle again. it only intensifies the pain in your neck, but you pay it no mind. no, right now, right now you needed to tell toji the things he needed to hear. when he will sit alone, years, months, weeks, days from now, replaying this moment, you need the words he’ll hear to be comforting.
“i-i know, i know. yo-you’ll kill me.” you muster, a melancholy smile on your face. goddamnit, how could you be laughing in a time like this, he wondered. you were so beautiful, so soft, so sweet. the world never deserved you. it sounds clichè, but it’s true. your heart was too big for this small world.
your energy was slowly diminishing, your blood supply was currently being splayed into tojis calloused palms. life was a funny thing, you thought. this morning, if somebody asked you your plans, you’d say right around the present time you’d be cooking dinner with your husband, smiling as he breathes in your scent from his spot in the crook of your neck.
your eyes, they start to flutter shut. toji panics, he holds down your wound tighter, crying out sweet nothings, god, sweet anythings to get you to open your pretty eyes.
“i-i fuckin’ l-love you, ma. i love you. do-dont leave m-me like this. o-old mans h-heart cant handle i-it.” he chokes out, the tears are pouring more violently now. another warm smile graces your face. those three words were the last you ever heard, and you were at peace now.
he can feel the life draining from your body. the soul draining from your heart. a garbled cry tears from his chest. he cups your face, shaking it, trying to wake you up. he whispers pleadingly, saying everything he didn’t say when you were alive. he was sorry for leaving the toilet seat up, for losing the remotes in the couch cushions. but most of all, he was angry. he was angry that you made him love you, he was angry that you loved him.
he knows you loved him, you never hesitated to say it. and when the maggots are eating your brain, feasting on your organs, they’ll see him. their tummies will be filled with the summer mornings with your lovers hands wrapped around your waist, the winter nights bundled together in bed binging greys anatomy. he’d never admit it to you, but he fuckin’ loved that show. “get this twink-ass ginger off my screen..” he’d grumble upon seeing owen hunt. atleast your man was cultured.
he rests his head on your stomach, on your baby bump. as the life drains from your body, as your body goes still, so does the heartbeat in your tummy. there you lay, three dead souls, one still breathing, sheathed in a blanket of red.
cw : major character death, graphic elements, plot twist that is definitely triggering but i can’t spoil so read at your own risk, toji is DEVASTATED, pure angst, (greys anatomy mention)
AN : this is my first fanfic be kind guys… not proofread cuz i never gaf
this wasn’t supposed to happen. toji fushiguro never lost. he never settled for less than a win streak with the same number of the amounts of fights hes had. but you? god, you were innocent. you didn’t have the same blood on your hands that he did. you were soft. you were steady. and he was rotten. oh, so rotten.
the mission went south. a curse was your downfall, striked you right in the neck. and you were strong. you’ve fought gojo, sparred toji, fought suguru geto. you came out unharmed. it’s an anomaly that may never be figured out that you got harmed from a grade 3 curse. toji will sit awake every night, blurry eyes trained on his popcorn ceiling, wondering what went wrong. how did this happen to you? it wasn’t fair. you of all people. the girl that prepared toji bento boxes with onigiris that have smiley faces on them every. single. day, without failure. despite being a sorcerer yourself, you always made time for him.
gurgles sound in the dark alley, the atmosphere was kin to a slasher-movie scene. it didn’t feel like one. it felt like toji was being stabbed repeatedly, despite you being the one bleeding. blood leaks out of your lips, the same lips that are usually kiss-bitten by his own. your eyes are teary, but there’s a dopey smile on your face as your lover holds down on the wound smack-dab in the middle of your neck. it was inches away from your jugular, he assumed. you shouldve been dead seconds from the strike.
“don’t y’fucking do that. do-dont-“ he takes a deep breath, not even bothering to hide his tears. toji fushiguro never showed weakness, not even in his worst moments. but right now? he couldn’t find it in himself to care. that smile, the smile that usually graced your face after sex, or after he wakes you up with very burnt waffles — you eat them anyway. that fucking smile couldn’t be the last thing he saw on your face, not like this.
“don’t y’dare smile at me like yer l-…leaving me.” snot drips down onto your neck, his snot, his tears. a mixture of his love, the pain, the ache that burnt his being. he couldn’t breathe. he couldnt handle this. if you left him, toji would be broken. he couldn’t go on. physically , his body would break down. decompose. maybe his heart would go first, or his lungs. he couldn’t breathe without you. you are his lungs, you are the neurons that fire in his brain, you are him.
letting out a pained laugh, one that sounds more like a wince, you bring your trembling hand up to his that’s pressed on your neck. lifting your free hand up, you wipe tears off his blood-stained cheeks, then you press your thumb in the furrow between his brows, trying to smooth it out. trying to smooth his pain. “y-you’ll ge-get - haah - wrinkles , old man.” trying to calm your shaky voice, swallowing — which ultimately ends in more blood spurting from your neck.
he shakes his head, over and over, as if hes trying to rid the blood on his hands, the softness on yours. he was almost angry at you. angry at how you could be so beautiful, so angelic, while you’re toeing the line of death. you always told him how death was such a scary concept to you. you were loud, you loved in the loud, you lived in the loud. death was nothing. you would simply cease to exist.
“god fucking damnit. wh-where is nanami? where is ino? where the fuck are the-they?” you could tell he was hanging onto false hope. which was ridiculous, toji was the most pessimistic man you knew. what you also knew, however, is that you weren’t leaving the cold floor of this alley with your heart beating. there were still so many things you needed to say, stories you needed to tell. opening your mouth, you got ready to spout what the man assumed was one of those sappy death speeches. he was having none of it.
“d-don’t talk, babydoll. save your energy.”
“s-shh… shh.. ba-baby.. ‘ji.. lis-listen to me. just listen. you c..cannot li-live in pain. you-you’ll wonder wh-what you couldve done. nothing. a-always remember there was n-nothing you do.” pausing, you lift your hand from his and put both of them on his cheeks, framing his sharp — now soft, face. “t-this heartache? the pain y-you feel right now? the pain y-you’ll feel after im gone? i-it will go away if y-you let it. it’s an i-intruder. what do f-fushiguros do to intruders?”
his head is tilted down now, black fringe hanging over his watery eyes. strangled sobs rip from his throat, and right now he wished he was the one in your place. he wished he was the one who couldn’t cry because there was a hole in their voicebox. you lift his head, a bittersweet look on your face.
“a-answer me. pl-please, ‘ji.” you sputter out. the blood coming from your mouth only increased. the orfices of your lungs were filling. you try to lift your body up, he only wraps his arms tighter around you.
“k-kill them.” he breathes, his voice ridden with pure agony. at this time, he was starting to realize there was nothing that could be done. but he wouldn’t surrender. no. not with you. not with you dying in his arms.
“t-thats right. i love y-you, ji. al-always will.” another gurgle from the depths of your wound. they were getting louder. it was like they were mocking you, mocking your confession. mocking the lie you added onto the end of it. you wouldn’t always love him. you wouldnt always be here. you wouldnt even be here tomorrow.
“w-woman, i s-swear to whatever go-god is up there that if y-you die i will k-“ putting a thumb to his lip before he can speak, you giggle again. it only intensifies the pain in your neck, but you pay it no mind. no, right now, right now you needed to tell toji the things he needed to hear. when he will sit alone, years, months, weeks, days from now, replaying this moment, you need the words he’ll hear to be comforting.
“i-i know, i know. yo-you’ll kill me.” you muster, a melancholy smile on your face. goddamnit, how could you be laughing in a time like this, he wondered. you were so beautiful, so soft, so sweet. the world never deserved you. it sounds clichè, but it’s true. your heart was too big for this small world.
your energy was slowly diminishing, your blood supply was currently being splayed into tojis calloused palms. life was a funny thing, you thought. this morning, if somebody asked you your plans, you’d say right around the present time you’d be cooking dinner with your husband, smiling as he breathes in your scent from his spot in the crook of your neck.
your eyes, they start to flutter shut. toji panics, he holds down your wound tighter, crying out sweet nothings, god, sweet anythings to get you to open your pretty eyes.
“i-i fuckin’ l-love you, ma. i love you. do-dont leave m-me like this. o-old mans h-heart cant handle i-it.” he chokes out, the tears are pouring more violently now. another warm smile graces your face. those three words were the last you ever heard, and you were at peace now.
he can feel the life draining from your body. the soul draining from your heart. a garbled cry tears from his chest. he cups your face, shaking it, trying to wake you up. he whispers pleadingly, saying everything he didn’t say when you were alive. he was sorry for leaving the toilet seat up, for losing the remotes in the couch cushions. but most of all, he was angry. he was angry that you made him love you, he was angry that you loved him.
he knows you loved him, you never hesitated to say it. and when the maggots are eating your brain, feasting on your organs, they’ll see him. their tummies will be filled with the summer mornings with your lovers hands wrapped around your waist, the winter nights bundled together in bed binging greys anatomy. he’d never admit it to you, but he fuckin’ loved that show. “get this twink-ass ginger off my screen..” he’d grumble upon seeing owen hunt. atleast your man was cultured.
he rests his head on your stomach, on your baby bump. as the life drains from your body, as your body goes still, so does the heartbeat in your tummy. there you lay, three dead souls, one still breathing, sheathed in a blanket of red.
when sukunas niche bf (gojo) says hes developing an avoidant attachment towards him because his limerent yearning is overstimulating him but its cool cuz her avoidant attachment was ephemeral so sukuna lowkeniuely babyboos in celebration
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hey guys, normally i try to keep drama off of my blog but this is really important. I just wanted to let you know that someone named WetWorkKing05 has been taking credit for MY kills over on redbloodle.com and is making money off of my hard work. When I messaged him directly he blocked me and threatened to kill ME >_> I’ve tried talking with the mods about getting his account taken down, but redbloodle has NO policy for this and they are no help at all. i don’t know what to do??
PLS signal boost if you can! And in the meantime, if you need somebody killed, do NOT hire WetWorkKing05! he is a THIEF!
Omg I love this guy’s work! He’s new and not so well known in the hitman community, but he’s so amazing and is appreciate it if you guys have him some love ❤️❤️
