⟡ sora ⟡

From the bits and pieces of his backstory you managed to put together, his family was wealthy enough to have the sort of connections to make his shows possible - but it was his own personality that made them profitable.

"Come on," he beamed, picking out a guest at random, gesturing for them to come up on the stage. They blinked, looking around nervously before hesitantly pushing off the arms of their chair and starting for the stairs. "Let's play a little game, okay?"

You'd seen it before.

Every Friday through Sunday for the past six months.

Traveling to different cities, rehearsing in the evenings, practicing stage direction rather than his tricks. He never needed to work on those. Just guiding you on where he wanted you to stand and what he wanted you to do.

Brighter smiles, wider twirls, deeper bows.

It was fun. Almost everything about him and this was.

Getting dolled up on his dime, letting him help you zip up the last couple inches of your bodysuit, listening to the chatter of the audience from backstage. Using the expensive products he provided, a full face of makeup and hair completely done, sprayed into place so it wouldn't so much as budge while you were up there with him. How you could feel the applause in your chest standing up there at the end, how right it felt to have his hand in yours when he clasped it and made sure you took your bows by his side. He made you feel needed.

You knew his routine by heart. Memorized every line, knew every step and sword that he'd pretend to slice through you in a box with, daggers being driven into wood while you were tucked safely in the hidden compartment.

But it wasn't really just the tricks people came to see.

It was him.

Something intangible about him, not just his shining blue eyes or the stray wisps of white hair poking out beneath his hat, but the energy surrounding him, the way his words boomed out through his wired mic and entangled you in his web of carefully-crafted illusions. Sure, you had the tiniest crush on him, but you told yourself it was simply the amount of time you'd been spending together, the chemistry that came with putting on performances night after night where he rambled to an entire audience of people how gorgeous you were.

Anyone who saw him would either want him or want to be him.

Even now, when he was just doing the whole boring pick a card thing, the one practically every magician did, the whole audience was only paying attention to him, trying to spot his sleight of hand.

They never did though.

Always left whispering 'how did he do that?' or trying to ask for his autograph as he walked off stage, sometimes even waiting out back to catch him on his way to his car.

This show was no different.

The same spiel, the same jokes, the same good night speech, twirling his wand in that big hand of his before waving goodbye at the crowd, all while you smiled and held onto the pretty white bunny he used that you affectionately named Gojo Junior.

The third most important part of the act really, after Satoru in second. He liked to tell you that you were the star, as if you both didn't know that he'd do just fine without your support. He could probably pick any other girl off the street at a much lesser risk of getting pepper sprayed - but he scoffed and scolded you the one time you joked about being replaceable.

Tonight came with one change you hadn't expected though, one in the form of friends you hadn't thought even existed popping up when you were both preoccupied with taking photos with a few lingering fans.

"Yo, Satoru," someone called out, and you looked up to see a man, maybe about his height clasping a hand on his shoulder. With another guy, and a pretty girl who was distracted on her phone, brown eyes glazed over with boredom. "Nice show."

"Thanks," Satoru smiled, relaxed, easy. Not the showman. Performance dropped, almost seeming like a normal guy who just happened to be in a full tuxedo, tilting his hat off as he glanced between his friends. "Didn't think you guys would come."

"After how much you talk about it?" The girl dryly said, not looking up as she exhaled.

"And her?" The other man chimed in, his deep grunt catching you off-guard as your head snapped over to him at the realization he was talking about you.

Or, well, belatedly processing that he meant Satoru was talking about you to his friends.

Satoru was unfazed though, buzzing through brief introductions and offering up their names while you nodded along, your outfit started to rub a little around your thighs as you shuffled on the soles of your heels.

Standing a little bit behind him, like you always did, watching him banter back-and-forth, used to fulfilling the role of the accessory on his arm until someone crossed the thin line separating what was staged and what was real.

"Are you free after this?" His pink-haired friend casually asked you, cocking his head to the side as he sized you up, dark eyes dragging over your exposed body and the shimmery fabric clinging to it. Sukuna, wasn't it?

You paused, considering what to say. Sometimes after shows you let Satoru convince you to come back to his place or whatever hotel room he booked, staying up late ordering pizza or whatever junk food he was craving while you watched old movies together. But he always passed out on the couch, hand in a bowl of popcorn and drool dribbling from his lips, and you usually left before he woke up.

"I'm actually-"

"She's still mine for the next, ah, two hours?" Satoru smirked, looking down at his wrist to check his watch for the time.

Except, it wasn't his watch.

Sukuna glared at him, attempting to snatch his watch back only for Satoru to take another bow, bending down too low just in time for his hand only to close around air.

"Too slow," Satoru cooed with fake sympathy, stepping back and unclasping the watch from his wrist just to dangle it in front of his face. "Gotta be quicker next time."

"Clean up isn't going to take two hours," you huffed at Satoru, snatching the watch first before holding it back out for his friend to take.

"I know," your boss pouted at you, pretty pink lips pushed together in a dramatic (and fake) display of disappointment. "I have some, um, notes I need to go over with you."

"Oh," you blinked, glancing towards backstage. "I guess I'll go get changed then."

Your performance had been pretty damn perfect.

No missteps or mistakes you could remember making, at least, frowning at your reflection as you slipped out of your heels back in your dressing room. You had already returned Gojo Junior to his cage in the corner, the bunny happily napping as you scanned the bag next to his set up for your extra clothes.

While you picked them up and started to throw them across the makeup chair, a little voice in your head slyly suggested the slim chance that Satoru was jealous. That just maybe your feelings could be mutual instead of just one-sided pining blinded by the persona you were used to him putting on.

Two sharp knocks had you snapping out of it, glancing back in time for the door to creak open before you could answer it.

"Is my lovely assistant dressed in there?" Satoru's warm voice called through the thin wood, and you instinctively checked the mirror, making sure your makeup wasn't messed up before you actually replied.

"Yeah," you called back out, stifling a sigh as you resisted the urge to put on a little more lip gloss.

"Damn," he shamelessly flirted, swinging open the door the rest of the way.

"Is that your way of asking to help?" You sarcastically muttered, shaking your head just slightly as you sighed.

"Can I?" He asked, almost managing to sound earnest.

You rolled your eyes at him, ignoring the faint fluttering in your stomach at the sight of him standing there and staring at you.

It wasn't that you thought his flirting was serious. You just sorta wished it was. It couldn't hurt to tease him back just a little too, right?

His blue eyes burned down your body, his jaw tensing as you turned away from him. You reached over your shoulder, making your own little show out of getting ready to strip down, glancing back to see how his face went slack. Watching him hold his breath, his grip tight on the wand still in his hand, knuckles bone-white.

"You'd make a terrible assistant," you wryly murmured, mouth twitching and fighting back a smile at how he was just standing there.

"My sincerest apologies," he purred, feigning remorse, a familiar grin twisting up on his lips as he reached up to tilt his hat, leaning against the doorframe as your fingers stopped just above the hidden zipper along the back. "Can I assist you in getting out of that then?"

You didn't say yes out loud.

Nodded just enough to answer for you, biting down on your bottom lip at the thump of the door shutting behind him.

"I'll start with the zipper first," he muttered, delivering the line like you were some audience member he had to impress. But his breath was warm on the nape of your neck, little goosebumps running up and down your arms as you barely stopped yourself from shivering at the sound of him so close.

"How sweet of you," you hummed as casually as you could, a little more pleased than you ought to be at how it felt for his long fingers to skim over your spine to reach the zipper. His other palm settled on your waist, your nose scrunching up as you realized he must have managed to slip his wand away without you noticing just to have both hands on you.

"Only to you," he quipped back, and before you could make a quick retort, he was tugging the zipper down all the way, sucking in a sharp breath at the freshly exposed skin.

Did he want to touch you as badly as you wanted him to? Ached for a connection that would catch sparks instead of fizzling in the shadows? Where you'd both stop acting like your chemistry ended once you stepped foot off-stage?

Feet planted on the ground, glued in place as he stayed there, both of you refusing to budge, daring the other one to break.

"Well?" You swallowed hard, keeping your head forward so you wouldn't have to see his face. "Are you going to help me with the rest or not?"

"As you wish," he quoted, murmuring all sweet and low in your ear as he started pulling your bodysuit off, taking his time to wiggle it past your hips and down your thighs, using it as an excuse to run his palms over every inch of you possible.

You tried to find a sliver of rationality. You'd even take regret. But there was just excitement brimming beneath the surface, desperation and craving melting together into you were just putty waiting for him to mold.

"Should I keep going?" He asked in that pretty whisper of his, making your heart stutter and race, mind reeling at his proximity, at the increasingly real possibility that you were really about to find out what more meant with him.

"Please."

He stripped you down to just your thin seamless panties fast enough it really did feel like magic, just to take off his top hat and put it on your head instead. You reached up to touch the brim, but then you were being picked up, his big hands sinking into the soft flesh of your thighs as he hoisted you in the air, carrying you with your back still pressed to his chest over to the old couch in the corner, turning around and plopping down so you were on his lap.

You gasped, surprised at how sure he was even now, in this totally new territory of your friendship? Relationship? Acting like he'd planned it all out, knew how to execute every lingering touch, practiced the way his lips would graze against the shell of your ear.

"For my next trick," he grinned, his hand skimming down your stomach and stopping just between your thighs. "I'm gonna make your panties disappear."

Your lips parted, about to giggle at how sleazy he sounded, but then you blinked - and they were gone.

"Holy shit," you breathed, too surprised to care about how much you sounded like one of his fans. "How did you-"

"That's a secret, baby," he wryly chuckled, showing you an empty hand before he used it to cup your dripping cunt. A funny pulse shooting straight down to the pit of your stomach as he pressed a feather-light kiss to your shoulder. "Spread your legs a little more for me, princess."

You always complied when it came to him.

And he always made everything worth it.

Watching two of his thick fingers disappear into your soaked cunt, with his gloves still fucking on, mouth hanging open at the way he kept plunging in and making a fucking mess of you on the couch. Could anyone else hear the filthy squelch of his digits pumping in and out through the paper-thin walls? Your moans of his name getting sloppier and sloppier, somehow turning Satoru into weak whimpers of Toru as he wrapped one strong forearm around your waist to keep you from squirming while he worked to stretch you out for his, ah, wand?

God, you couldn't even think about it like that without being filled with the lewd mental image of him trying to stick his real wand inside of you.

"I-I thought you had notes for me," you groaned, grabbing onto the dark material of his pants as you rested your head back on his broad shoulder, struggling to hold onto your slipping thoughts with every brutal drag of his fingers inside you. The fabric made it somehow even hotter, your brain going all fuzzy as he dove in all the way.

"I lied," he bluntly confessed, burying himself down to his knuckles just to see you shudder, keeping you supported as he fucked you harder with just his nimble fingers, his practiced motions making you forget how you were supposed to feel about your suspicion that he was jealous being proven correct.

He didn't want to see you with someone else.

And when you were here, when he had you like this, you couldn't really picture yourself out on a date when he occupied all your thoughts anyways.

"Are you on birth control?" He paused long enough to ask, although you were hardly coherent enough to answer.

"Mm, mhm," you half-yelped as his fingers swirled up to poke and prod in a particularly sensitive spot.

"Thank God," he groaned, yanking his digits back out, and it was only at his absence that you realized the ridiculously hard thing you hadn't noticed poking your ass was his cock.

How the hell was it so-

"S'toru," you attempted to say his name, your throat growing dry at the thought of his size before he readjusted you off of him just enough to pull his pants down and let it spring out, a thick vein bulging along the side of it, his tip a pretty shade of pink and pre-cum already leaking along the slit.

"Change your mind?" He asked, as if your toes weren't already curling at the anticipation, thighs trembling as your body aches to have him back inside you.

"N-no," you mumbled, heat pooling deep enough in your stomach you could probably drown in it. "You're just, um, bigger than I thought."

"So you've been thinking about me too, princess?" He teased, not missing a single fucking thing, apparently.

Your first impression of him hadn't been that far off.

Satoru was a pervert.

And none of your rehearsing, none of your practice could have prepared you for how it felt to be lifted up by the back of your thighs, for that fat head of his cock to snugly press against your entrance and sink in before you had time to blink.

Eyes closing just to feel the burning pressure of his thick length bullying it's way in, pushing past the first ring of resistance to claim the rest of your body as his.

"Can I tell you something?" He whispered in your ear, all hoarse and rough, right as he folded you further, his cock rubbing against your walls and making space for himself.

You tried to respond.

But the only thing that came out was a fuzzy moan, messy syllables slurred together as you felt your insides getting pushed around, shoved up, up, up until you thought there surely wasn't any room anymore. Yet, he just kept pushing in deeper, inch after inch until you started to wonder if he was about to reach your lungs at this rate.

"Been fucking my fist after every show thinkin' about you," he rambled, oblivious to your whines, or maybe just spurred on by them. "Thinking about how this would feel."

He groaned, all deep and gravelly, bottoming out and hitting your womb while he was at it, reflexively jolting just for him to chuckle, pulling you right back down to meet him. Keeping you pinned, his hands on your thighs and your back to his chest, completely connected.

"Y-you could've said something," you cried out, tears collecting in your lashes as the pleasure started to condense into a hard ball at your core, pinging around and demanding attention as he started rutting his hips up, pulling out and pushing in at a pace you couldn't believe he was keeping up.

The couch creaked louder, the frame of it smacking into the wall as his thrusts picked up, your brain freezing as his tongue abruptly dragged up your throat before he started to leave a trail of kisses in time with his thrusts.

"I didn't want to lose you," he admitted, and you wondered if he could feel the way you clamped down, squeezing hard at how raw he sounded.

"You're not going to."

Satoru snapped.

Acting more like a bunny in heat, although this Satoru Junior was much meaner than the sweet ball of fur in the corner.

Fucking into you fast and hard, one of his hands moving to sweep over the swollen bundle of nerves between your thighs, making quick work of stroking and soothing your need as if he could sense it himself. The friction of the fabric only heightened it, his gloved fingers catching over your clit with adoration and perfected pressure. Treating you like his new favorite trick, delicately tracing over it, practicing different patterns until he found the one that made you throw your head back, a strangled gasp stringing through the air as he repeated it again and again.

"Oh, that's it," he purred, putting on his professional bravado to disguise the way his voice quivered at that last word. "Give me a good finale."

You finished for him with a moan you hoped made him proud, squirming in his hold as he continued to finger and fuck you through it, mouth permanently parted as he kept your thighs apart enough you had to feel the force of him thrusting up to fill you with cum.

Warmth that lingered and leaked down your legs, his cock only stalling when the last drops dripped out, both of you frozen in that intimate position as you tried to blink and bring back at least an ounce of sensibility.

"Can we go again?" He muttered while you were still out-of-breath, another strained whimper leaving your lips as his teeth nipped at your neck.

"W-what?"

"I forgot to kiss you," he whined, and you could hear his pout, feel the way his lips pressed together on your shoulder. "You can make it one more round for me, right?"

His cock throbbed inside you, not going soft as he gave you a small kiss just above your collarbone.

"Please?"

"Depends," you murmured, tilting your head to the side so he had easier access to paint your neck with more affection pecks. "Are you my boss or my boyfriend?"

"I'll be anything you want me to be."

reblogs + comments are always greatly appreciated <3

“Uh... thanks. I think?” 

You weren’t entirely sure if that was praise or exploitation — because with Mei-Mei, the line was always blurred. 

“Of course, baby!” she cooed. “Your ratings are exceptionally high. But... let’s kick it up a notch, shall we?” And grinning like a cheshire cat, she slid a detailed spreadsheet in front of you encouragingly. 

“We need a story so massive before Christmas. Don’t ask me why, but holiday trauma performs extremely well. I expect your report by early-December. Get back out there, hm?” 

Apparently, love is dead. Because people live for drama. For tragedy. It’s unfortunate, but it gets the clicks. And despite all the ‘new material’ you’re looking for? A part of you still aches — still yearns — for love. 

So, like a well-trained masochist, you swipe. Again. 

| Brett, 27 — Los Angeles, CA |   “Hey, kitten. I’m Sapiosexual. An INTJ. Love your profile. Let’s chat, yeah?” 

Sent a dick pic and texted “U up?” at 3:17 a.m. on a Tuesday. (You weren’t) 

Swipe. 

| Colin, 32 — Santa Monica, CA |   “Sup. I’m just a nice guy. Totally not like other guys.” 

Sent a three-paragraph spiral about how nice guys finish last due to unrequited love. (With his childhood best friend.) 

Swipe. 

| Naoya, 22 — Orange County, CA |   “What do you do for fun? Because let me set the record straight. I love a woman who knows their place. Preferably, three steps behind me. Or in the kitchen.” 

You reported him. Twice. (Just to be sure…) 

Swipe. 

| Greg, 25 — San Francisco, CA |   “Hey. Uh... I’m married btw. But it’s complicated, u know?” 

You almost admire the honesty. (Almost.) 

Swipe. 

Swipe. 

Swipe. 

You were about five more red flags away from joining a monastery when suddenly, you got an idea. Perhaps... it’s just California? You’ve been living here your whole damn life. Let’s try escaping the endless sea of self-proclaimed “entrepreneurs” — the gym bros, the surfer stoners. The men who think that being emotionally available is a liability.  

So? You expand your distance radius. 

Like...  

Way out.  

Just to see what would happen. 

| Satoru, 26 — Kyoto, Japan |   “Hey. I’m not here to play games. Unless it’s Mario Kart. But don’t cry, because I’d totally win, sweetheart.” 

It’s a miracle. Because for once, there’s no shirtless mirror selfie. It’s just a guy on a front porch, wearing a hoodie. There’s a coffee cupped in his hands, with long raven hair falling against the violet hue of his eyes.  

He has gauges, a sleepy smile, and oh my god he’s— 

…gorgeous.  

And not the curated, flex-for-attention kind of gorgeous you’ve learned to dodge. No. There’s something… approachable about him. Soft. Stupidly warm. Like if you sat beside him, he wouldn’t talk — he’d listen. 

~  ♡ ︎ You’ve matched with Satoru Gojo!  ♡ ︎  ~  ...typing  Satoru: Did you know that the universe is 13.8 billion years old? There are billions of galaxies. Trillions of stars. And yet… here we are. Matched on a dating app.  Satoru: So… hi! Satoru: Wanna test fate?  You: lol 😂 You: well then... You: that’s one way to say hello!! 😝 Satoru: Yeah... figured I’d lead with existential dread instead of wyd 😉

He was... normal. 

Stupidly normal. Maybe a bit nerdy.  But somehow? It worked. He made you smile. 

...typing  Satoru: Okayokayokay... but REAL question...   Satoru: Do you pour milk before cereal??? 🤨 Or are you a functioning member of society?  You: 😨😨 You: excuse you!!   You: what kind of monster do you think i am??? 😒 Satoru: Phew 😩 Satoru: Just needed to be sure!! People have surprised me before 

And just like that, you were hooked. 

You talked while brushing your teeth. On your lunch break. In bed, half-asleep, phone screen dimmed but still open to his thread. He’s got opinions on everything. 

Anime, horror movies, why candy canes are overrated, the superiority of old-school consoles, and the tragic fall of Yahoo Answers. 

One day he asked: 

...typing  Satoru: Are you more of a salty girl or a sweet girl? 

You paused, halfway through folding laundry, holding one sock while you reach for your phone. 

...typing  You: hmmm..... You: are we talking snacks?? or personality type?  Satoru: 👀 Satoru: Well shit... Satoru: Now I wanna know the answer to both...  You: hehehe 😇 You: what do YOU think i am?  Satoru: Oh, hell no... Satoru: I’m not falling for that Satoru: Bc if I guess wrong, you’ll never let me hear the end of it.  You: pshhh...  You: that response answers for me 😛  You: but hmm... i guess i’m both? You: bc it depends on the day... OR the person.  Satoru: Okay cool Satoru: Soooo... I’m either incredibly lucky, or you’re about to ruin my life in a really interesting way. You: ruin you?? You: never!! You: ...you're one of the few people i actually wanna be sweet to ❤️  Satoru: ❤️  Satoru: Guess it's a good thing that I'm a sweet guy 😉 both snack AND personality wise Satoru: Which brings me back to the important question... Satoru: Snacks Satoru: Salty or sweet. Answer wisely, sweetheart. You: hmm...  Satoru: This data could make or break us 🤨 You: imma salty kinda girl Satoru: ...  You: but i don’t dislike sweet things! 😘 Satoru: Siiiiiigh...  Satoru: Fine. I respect it Satoru: Even though it’s OBJECTIVELY the wrong answer 🙄 guess I’ll just have to be the sweet one in this relationship

Somehow, it never felt forced. You didn’t have to explain your jokes. You didn’t have to shrink yourself or play dumb or brace for silence. He got it. He got you. And he made you laugh — constantly. But more than that… he made you feel safe. 

It was easy to forget you’d never seen him move. Never heard his laugh in real life. 

Until you started calling each other. 

What started as a five-minute “just wanted to hear your voice” spiraled into two hours. Then three. Now it’s just… what you do. The sound of his voice has become background music — familiar and warm, the kind of thing you could fall asleep to. Soft, a little raspy, warm around the edges when he laughs. 

He talks fast when he gets excited — usually about Digimon lore, bad anime dubs, or some absurd theory he read online at 3 a.m. He jumps from tangent to tangent like he’s chasing thoughts through constellations — but somehow, never leaves you behind. 

And when he’s really into something, you can hear it. His voice lifts like gravity can’t hold it. 

“Hmm… if we were two particles traveling at the speed of light,” he murmured, “do you think we’d still find each other in another timeline?” 

“Oh my god…” you smiled against your pillow; voice thick with sleep. “Is this your version of ‘Would you still love me if I was a worm’ Satoru?” 

His laugh was soft and breathy, wrapping around your ribs like ribbon.

“Pshh… no,” he scoffed, and you could hear the pout in his voice as he shuffled against his own bedsheets. Then, with a huff he drawled. “This is my scientifically superior version of that question.” 

“Mmm… I see,” your hum was sleepy, curling deeper under the blanket. Grinning, your eyes fluttered closed as you murmured. “Yes. I think we would”

A comfortable silence settled, and you could hear the line crackle softly as he exhaled.

“I wish…” he said after a beat, “…we could spend Christmas together. It’s not fair you’re so far away.”

His voice was quiet, like he was afraid to say it too loud. And somehow, it landed harder than any confession. You pressed your ear closer to the phone, like maybe, if you try hard enough, you’ll feel the weight of him on the mattress beside you.

“Yeah…” you whispered. “Me too.”

You’d been talking to Satoru for a month now — and honestly, every other man you come across can’t hold a candle to him. So, when Mei Mei saunters to your desk December 1st, silk blouse pristine and judgment already locked and loaded, you know she’s not going to like what she finds.

“It’s officially December, my dear,” she hums, lowering herself into the chair across from you, tilting her head in that familiar, patronizing way. “So. Where are my lines?”

Your fingers still over the keyboard. Time to come clean.

“I know, I know…” you say, rubbing at your temples before finally looking up. Your heart thumps harder than it should. “And… don’t be mad. But… just hear me out. What if this year… I don’t write about heartbreak?”

It’s like you might as well have told her you quit. The silence is deafening while she blinks at you, deadpan — like you’ve grown a second head.

“Darling,” she says coolly, with a bitter laugh. “Christmas is in three weeks. I don’t need pleasantries — I need pain.”

“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” you push gently, sitting a little straighter in your chair. “Christmas is supposed to feel… good. Warm. Like something you lean into, not brace yourself against.” You gesture vaguely toward the window, the gray sky.

You’ve always been alone for the holidays. No family. No one asking when you’ll be home.

“I mean… people are… tired. Stressed. Lonely. The world already feels cold enough without another reminder that love is awful. Right?”

Mei scoffs, flipping her hair over one shoulder, repulsed by the suggestion. “That mushy shit doesn’t sell…” And her eyes sharpen, flicking back to you. “You sound dangerously sentimental. Very unlike you, darling.”

Your mouth opens. Closes.

Little does she know… this is you. Or at least, the you that’s been kept hidden your entire career — doing something that feels so… empty. You’re tired. Tired of pretending that love is dead. For once, you want to believe in it. Believe that all this with Satoru — the potential for love — could be real.

“…I met someone.”

That gives her pause.

“Oh?”

Her snobbish tone is hard to ignore, but you don’t let it diminish the excitement you feel from the thought of him.

Satoru.

“Yeah… he’s—” you begin with a breathless laugh, tucking your chin into your palm like it might hide your grin. “Ugh. He’s good, Mei. Like… really fucking good. Funny… smart… thoughtful…”

But Mei’s sculpted brow arches as you continue to gush.

“Ohmygod and so handsome too,” you breathe, face lighting up. “Like. It’s unfair how good-looking he is, I swear. Plus, he remembers the little things I say, and he always checks in when I’ve had a rough day. It’s like…” you pause, breath catching as your heart aches with longing.

“It’s like… he sees me, Mei.”

At that, a knowing hum rumbles through your boss.

“I see…” she nods, lips tugging upward. “Well. Can you show me a picture, then?”

“Oh, sure!” you chirp, already digging for your phone in your bag. Your heart flutters at the sight of his photo, and after navigating to his profile, you hand the device over to her.

Her eyes narrow, then flick back to you. “This guy is in Japan…” and you can already hear it, that condescending tone, syrupy sweet. “I wonder… have you seen him yet?”

“W-What?” you blink, crossing your arms, instantly on guard. “Well… no. But it’s a sixteen-hour time difference! It’s hard to line up video calls, but we talk all the time and—”

“Mm.” That’s all she needs. She’s handing the phone back with a noise you’d describe as infuriatingly smug. “No way he’s that perfect,” she says, already rising to her feet. “I bet he’s catfishing you.”

Your heart drops.

God. That’d be just your luck.

“What?! N-No!” you argue, unwilling to entertain the idea. “It’s real, Mei. He’s real.”

“Mmm. So is Santa Claus~”

You scoff, brows furrowing.

“No, seriously. He said he wanted to spend Christmas with me. I was actually thinking of surprising him — flying out and —”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” she interrupts, saccharine and sharp. “Flying to Japan? To meet a man you’ve never met?” a loud pompous laugh bursts out of her lips, making your blood boil. “Ahhh… what a story! I expect lines, my dear~”

And as her heels are clicking away, you glare after her, cheeks hot, heart thudding with equal parts embarrassment and fury.

That… bitch.

Fine. You’re going to prove her wrong.

You must.

It hadn’t taken much convincing to get Satoru’s address.

You told him you wanted to send a Christmas present. He teased you, of course.

“A present? For little old me?” he drawled. “Awh… what is it? Is it scandalous? Oh!! Is it Digimon related??” You could practically hear the grin in his voice. And sure enough, a minute later, he sent his address with a laughing “Fine. But only if it’s Digimon-related, sweetheart.”

Little does he know…

It’s you you’re sending.

(Though yes, he’s still getting something Digimon-related too. You spent two weeks hand-knitting a Gabumon scarf hat — complete with floppy ears, tiny claws, and a ridiculous little horn. It’s absolutely absurd. You hope he’ll love it.)

Kyoto is blanketed in snow when you land — your breath visible in the air as you drag your suitcase outside the airport, gloved fingers fumbling with your phone. You manage to request a car (thank god for global apps), but the second the driver steps out and starts speaking rapid-fire Japanese, your brain goes static.

“Uh…. sumimasen?”

It’s the only word you know that seems remotely polite. That, and arigatou. Oh, and you know, baka, (thanks to Satoru’s anime rants about how “sub is superior to dub.” He swears by it, so naturally, you’ve started watching anime. In sub. Maybe because it feels like holding onto a piece of him.)

As you enter the car, you press your face to the frosty window and Kyoto whirls past — ancient shrines nestled between sleek buildings, power lines framed by snow-laced branches, vending machines glowing like beacons in the dark. The city is beautiful. Foreign. Dreamlike.

But then, the car pulls up to his house — and suddenly, you’re the one who feels foreign.

Because what the hell.

The place is huge.

It’s walled off with an iron gate, and a winding stone path leading up to a home that looks like a cross between a modern compound and a high-end ryokan. He’d told you his family was well off, but you didn’t realize well off meant a fucking dynasty.

Great. Now you’re standing here with your thrifted suitcase, the handmade gift for him, wrapped in a flimsy bag, wearing your own knitted scarf and a coat you borrowed from your roommate because your own has a busted zipper. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of every chipped nail, every dollar you don’t have in your bank account.

God. What are you even doing here? This man seems ever more too good to be true. What if he’s playing you? What if… Mei’s right. Does he even want you? What’ll he do when he sees you? What’ll he say?

Fuck.

You take a deep breath, tugging your scarf a little higher, gripping his present like a lifeline. It’s fine. Whatever. You came all this way. No turning back now, right?

When you ring the doorbell, a faint chime echoes inside the estate. The air bites at your cheeks while voices murmur on the other side. Footsteps near the entrance and then—

Click!

The shoji slides open. You’re grinning nervously — heart hammering in your chest, steadying yourself as a figure comes into sight. A figure whom is—

A woman.

“えっ…誰？何かご用ですか？”

She stands with one hand on the frame, backlit by the warm glow of the house behind her. Dark hair pulled into a lazy bun, a cigarette balanced between two fingers, smoke curling lazily into the night air. She’s tall. Cool. Effortlessly poised in a way you’ve never been. And she looks… young. Maybe your age.

Mei’s laugh is echoing in your goddamn ears.

Double fuck…

Did Satoru lie? Is this his girlfriend? His wife? A casual fling he forgot to mention? God. Is this why he never video chatted you?

It feels like a kick to the chest.

What the hell were you thinking?? Flying across the world for a guy you’ve never met in person?!

 “ちょっと、聞こえてる？”

She’s still looking at you, head tilted slightly, eyes narrowed with vague curiosity — and you realize with a jolt you haven’t said anything. Not a word.

“Oh! I—uh—sumimasen?” you stammer, fumbling with the little Japanese you know. “S-Sorry, I… I don’t speak Japanese,” you laugh, awkward and breathless. “I think I have the wrong house, though. I was looking for someone named Satoru but—” with a glance past her, you try not to look desperate.

God. You’re such an idiot.

“Uhhh… never mind,” and clutching your suitcase, you attempt to retreat. “I’m so sorry. This was a mistake.”

Though her hand shoots out, catching your sleeve.

“Oh. Satoru? That idiot?” she says casually, in English this time — voice smooth, tinged with amusement. She flicks ash off the edge of the porch. “Yeah, you’re at the right house. He’s just at the FamilyMart with Yuji right now. Craving strawberry shortcake, apparently.”

As your brain begins to short-circuit, she takes one last drag of her cigarette, then steps aside, gesturing toward the entryway.

“C’mon. You’ll freeze your ass off.”

“Oiii,” Shoko calls. “We have a guest, guys! Say hello to—oh, um… sorry, what’s your name again?”

Before you know it, you’re stepping inside – toeing off your shoes at the entrance. Your feet pad against the tatami as you round the corner, and you’re greeted with a group of three other men sitting casually around a low table, with an abundance of snacks at the center.

Though, despite how laid-back the room appears, with pillows and drinks and half opened bags – there’s an underlying tension so thick, you swear it could cut glass.

They’re all staring at you with stone faces.

One man is blonde, with a chiseled jawline and a stern demeaner. Another has bubblegum-pink hair and tattoos crawling up both arms, and the third is a teenager with messy black hair who looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else.

Are these Satoru’s… friends? Family? He’s never mentioned them before.

Shoko takes another drag from her cigarette, unfazed. “I’m Shoko, by the way,” she says lazily, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. “Known Satoru for years. Unfortunately.” She smirks. “This is Kento, Sukuna, and Megumi.”

“H-Hello…” you murmur, gripping the handle of your suitcase as you hold a tight, nervous smile. “Nice to meet you. Sorry for… dropping in like this. I just flew in from America and… I was hoping that — well, Satoru would be here?”

“Gojo?” Sukuna gruffs, leaning back on one elbow. He plucks a piece of pocky from the snack tray and chews it without breaking eye contact. “And who the fuck are you supposed to be? His secret girlfriend or somethin’?”

The words hits harder than it should.

Girlfriend? Secret?

God, what are you to him?

And now, it dawns on you that they haven’t a clue who you are either. Of course, they don’t. Why would they?

You feel your cheeks heat. “O-oh, no. No, it’s not like that,” you say quickly, waving your hand like it’ll brush the embarrassment away. “I mean… we talk. We’ve been talking. But—”

You trail off and they’re all looking at you with raised brows.

“We don’t have a label or anything. We’re just… friends.”

“Friends?” Sukuna perks up, grin widening. “So lemme get this straight. You flew twelve hours across the globe for that pretentious dick?” He scoffs. “And he hasn’t even put a label on you?”

There’s something dangerously amused in his tone now, and he tosses the half-eaten pocky stick back onto the tray.

“Damn. Lucky bastard.”

You blink, unsure whether to feel insulted or embarrassed or both.

"Don’t you worry sweet thing. You decide to stay and I can show ya how a real man can take care of ya, hm?"

Kento shifts, cutting him a glance. “Sukuna…”

“What?” he says, raising both hands innocently. “This girl is hot as fuck. And I’m just saying — if it were me? I’d at least make sure she knew what she was walking into. Or out of. I'm not like that asshole.”

You blink again.

Is he… hitting on you?

“Great... here we go…” Megumi mutters.

And Kento sighs, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “Please ignore him,” he tells you, voice calm but firm. “Everything is a pissing contest with Gojo where he’s concerned.”

“Okay, first of all — fuck you,” Sukuna snaps, sitting up straighter now, suddenly defensive. “It’s not about competition. I’m just not blind. Look at her!”

You blush subtly, and Megumi mutters, barely glancing up.

“Don't take him seriously... trust me. He says that. But every time Gojo brings a fangirl around, he's always trying to take her home like it’s a fucking game.”

...fangirl?

The word slams into your chest like a hammer. Is that what they think you are? You stiffen, heart dropping. Because that proves it. You shouldn’t be here. Of course someone like him would get dozens of women throwing themselves at him.

What made you think you were any different?

You shouldn’t have come.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, grip tightening around the suitcase as you fumble to gather your things. “I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean to barge in. I’ll just—”

And bowing your head, you spin on your heel, until suddenly you collide into someone. But it all happens so quickly; you don’t register who. Because with a gasp, you stumble backwards, entirely focused on how your giftbag slipped from your grip, making Satoru’s scarf fall to the floor.

“W-What… what are you doing here?!”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

'Sorry' must be your go to word tonight. You’re too embarrassed to look up and see more of Satoru’s friends judging you. You’re dropping on your knees, scrambling to gather things with shaking hands mumbling under your breath.

“I’m leaving now… god, I shouldn’t have come. Please don’t tell Satoru I was—"

“WHOA, is that Gabumon?!” a new voice exclaims, bright with curiosity. “Hey Gojo, who’s this?”

At the mention of his name, you freeze.

Your head slowly lifts, eyes tracing up to catch sight of another pink-haired boy, peeking out from behind the man directly in front of you.

But… the man doesn’t look like Satoru. Not the Satoru you’ve come to know.

No. He has snowy-white tousled hair, tucked beneath a beanie, with bright blue eyes, blinking behind thick-rimmed glasses.

Nothing like his profile pictures.

“Satoru?” you breathe.

His mouth parts, speechless while he’s looking at you like you’re a ghost.

“Dude, that’s so cool! Did you make that?” Yuji asks, eyes sparkling. “Gojo she’s a keeper, huh?”

“Mmm… clearly.” Nanami glances over. “Because since when do you let girls know you like Digimon?”

“About damn time,” Shoko snorts, already lighting another cigarette like this is the most amusing thing she’s seen all week.

“And, she flew here for you,” Sukuna laughs from the back, sounding far too smug for someone uninvolved. “Shit, I’ll marry her if you don’t, asshole.”

The voices layer over each other — praise, laughter, awe. But it’s too bright, too loud, and you’re frozen in the middle of it. Feeling completely detached from reality while the blatant truth stands directly in front of you.

He lied.

And the worst part? You believed him. You came all this way. Mei Mei was right.

Love is dead.

“Um, actually. I—I left something outside,” you blurt, shoving the scarf back in the bag and clutching it to your chest, blinking back the tears. “Excuse me a moment.”

And before anyone can stop you, you’re slipping past them — out the door, out of breath — your chest aching with something you can’t yet name. While behind you, footsteps follow as he calls your name.

“Wait—shit. Wait!”

Satoru knows he fucked up. And by the time he barrels out the front door, you’re already halfway down the street, boots crunching through the snow like you’re marching to war.

He feels like a grade A idiot. Because somehow, against all odds, you — this ridiculously perfect girl — came all the way to Japan thinking he was someone worth showing up for.

And now he’s watching you walk away.

“Waitwaitwaitwait…” he groans, jogging after you, breath puffing white in the air. “Slow down and just… can you just—fuck. Just stop for a second?!”

“Stop?!” You whirl around, eyes wet and furious. “Why should I? Who the fuck even are you? What kind of psycho catfishes someone for months and then just lies to their face?!”

He blinks, defensive instinct kicking in before his brain can catch up.

“W‑Well—what kind of psycho flies across the country and shows up on someone’s front lawn?” he fires back, hands flailing. “In Japan, might I add!”

A bitter scoff tears out of you. “You said—and I quote—‘I wish you were here with me for Christmas,’” your arms fold tight across your chest like you’re holding yourself together. “Why the hell would you say that if you didn’t mean it?”

He backpedals immediately. Because fuck — he did mean it. Every late‑night call. Every laugh. Every stupid wish whispered into the dark.

But instead of admitting that, panic takes over.

“L‑Look—that’s just—something people say, okay?” he rambles. “Like… ‘your baby’s so cute,’ or—um— ‘my diet starts tomorrow,’ or—”

He’s waving his hand, scrambling for humor — something to soften it — but the words die on his lips when he sees your face drop. You blink hard, like something inside you just broke. And the sight of it makes his stomach twist into knots.

Great. Now he feels like even more of an asshole.

“Shit… okay,” he blurts, voice softer now. “That was... yeah. Um. That was a dick move. I know...”

“Fuck you…” you mutter, turning back around.

“Hold up! Please… just come inside, yeah? We can talk it out. If you'll just let me explain—"

“I don’t want to talk to you. Ever again.”

He can hear the hurt underneath the edge of your voice, and he stands there, watching you trudge through the snow – your figure getting smaller against the snow-washed street. He knows there is no salvaging this. He fucked it up. But still… reality slams into him all at once.

You don’t speak the language.

You don’t know the city.

You don’t have a car.

Fuck. Do you even have anywhere to go?

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck… fuck!” he breathes, running a hand through his hair as he begins to jog back toward the house, bursting through the door.

“Guys, I’ll be right back!” he shouts to no one in particular as he grabs his keys off the counter, hands shaking. “She left something at the airport!”

Then, he’s gone again. Chasing the only girl who ever made him feel seen.

It’s cold. Too cold for someone with no plan and no fucking clue where you’re going. But the cold doesn’t sting as much as your heart does.

You don’t even know how far you’ve walked. Five minutes? Ten? Your fingers are numb, your phone battery is nearly dead, and your boots are soaked through.

By pure luck, you stumbled into some sort of Japanese bar. And the kanji on the glowing sign outside might as well be ancient runes, but the warmth spilling through the door felt like something close to safety. Like maybe if you just stepped inside, you’d stop feeling so fucking alone.

Because hey, at least the sake tastes good.

You have no Wi-Fi, no plan, not a single ounce of pride left. All you have is the stupid hope that maybe if you drown yourself in enough of this bitter rice wine, it’ll burn the ache out of your chest.

The edges of the bar blur slightly. Everything’s warm and loud. Someone’s laughing too hard in the corner. Across the room, beyond the haze, there’s a man with a dark bun and violet eyes, sipping from a bottle with his head tilted back.

Beautiful.

Almost like…

The photos on Satoru’s profile?

Are you delusional? Drunk? No... that is him. Right??

You’re blinking through the blur, trying to make sense of it. But then? The room begins to spin and sure enough, nausea hits.

“Shit—” you whisper, grabbing the edge of the bar.

You’re pushing off your stool, stumbling outside the icy curb, before you double over and hurl into the snowbank.

Great. Fucking perfect. Can this day get any worse?

“Hey—hey! There you are!”

Oh, yeah. It can.

Tires crunch as a car jerks to a stop beside the curb. The door flies open, left swinging in the cold and Satoru rushes out, barely remembering to throw the gear into park before he’s crossing to you, boots skidding slightly on slush.

“Jesus—fuck. Are you okay?” he drops beside you, crouching low. “What the hell happened—”

“Don’t touch me,” you snap, pushing at him weakly while your body sways. He pulls back like you burned him.

“I’m fffine,” you slur, though your stomach still churns and your face is damp with cold sweat. “Gooo away.”

He sighs, exasperated.

“You’re not fine. You’re pale and shaking and—wait. Are you… drunk?” He exhales, brushing his hand through his hair like he’s trying not to lose it. “Come on. Let me take you home.”

“Home?” you laugh, bitter and sharp, scoffing as you shove at him again. “You mean your home?”

“No. I meant… wherever you’re safe. I just—can we not do this right now? Please?”

You snort, head lolling as you stare at the ground. “You’re a liarrrr,” you mutter, voice thick and sloppy. “Jus’ like everyone else.”

The words land heavier than he expects. Wind howls between you, carrying the smell of snow and alcohol and regret. Satoru opens his mouth—closes it. For once, he doesn’t have a smart comeback.

“I’m gonna stay right here,” you announce suddenly, sliding down until your back hits the wall. You cross your arms, chin lifting like it’s some kind of moral victory. “I don’t need you.”

“…in the snow?” he asks flatly.

“Yup,” you nod, blinking too hard. “Maybe I’ll meet someone who doesn’t lie for fun.”

“Jesus, woman—” he drags a hand down his face. “You’re in a foreign country. You don’t speak the language. You’re drunk off your ass. I’m not just gonna abandon you in an alley behind a bar you can’t even read the name of!”

“Pffft... well I liiike this bar,” you say bitterly, voice cracking. “S'greeat. They poured the sake fast. And nobody lied to me.”

Every time you say it, it hurts him even more. Satoru exhales hard, pacing a few steps like if he stops moving, he might actually lose it. But when he turns back, ready with another argument — another plea — he freezes.

Because you’re... crying.

Not quiet tears. Not dignified ones. Ugly, shaking sobs that pull from somewhere deep in your chest, shoulders hitching as you scrub at your face with the sleeve of your coat.

“I hate you,” you mutter, voice wrecked.

His chest tightens. He doesn’t know what to do with that. With this.

“I really liked you,” you continue, words tumbling out now, unstoppable. “Like—really liked you. I don’t do this. I don’t fly across the world for people. I don’t—” you hiccup, laughing wetly through the tears. “S'bullshit…” you mutter bitterly.

He blinks, lips pressing in a thin line like he’s unsure what to say. The cold wind blows as you sniffle.

“Plus… you’re hot as fuck. I don’t get it. Like… you didn’t even need to lie…”

You mutter, shifting in the snow. And that one makes him flinch.

“S’stupid… you could’ve jus' been you,” you say, gesturing vaguely at him. “But no. Instead you make up this whole fake version. Lying about everything. Liarrr. And now I can’t trust you. Betcha lied about liking me too, huh? All of it.“

He opens his mouth.

Nothing comes out.

Because that’s the cruel part.

He didn’t lie about everything.

He thinks of the way people’s eyes light up when they recognize his last name. The way conversations shift the second they realize he’s that Gojo. He thinks of years spent being wanted for the wrong reasons — money, status, face value.

And you’re the one person who ever made him feel like it’s okay for liking what he liked. The nerdy, cocky, compulsively sarcastic guy who collects Digimon cards and corrects Wikipedia entries in his spare time.

“Oh yeah… ya know who I saw in there?” you suddenly say, jerking your thumb toward the glowing doorway behind you. “That hot guy from yer pictures.”

Satoru stiffens.

“Uh… Suguru?”

“Oh,” you sniff. “So he’s a real guy?” You laugh again, hollow and dizzy. “Figures. Y’know what? He looks like he wouldn’t lie. Bet he’s honest. Bet he doesn’t make fake profiles and pretend to be someone else.”

You’re too drunk to notice the flinch in his jaw, the way he shifts his weight like the words physically hurt. 

“Maybe I’ll go back in and see if he’ll take me home, huh?”

You try to shove off the wall and nearly trip again, but Satoru steadies you without thinking — hands warm and steady under your arms.

“Look…” he murmurs, voice gentler now. “I know you’re mad. And I deserve it. But I’m worried about you.”

His grip adjusts — one hand rising to gently cradle your elbow, the other slipping around to the small of your back as he lowers his head to meet your bleary, mascara-smudged eyes.

“It’s cold,” he says, voice pitched just above a whisper. “It’s late. You’re probably jet-lagged out of your mind. Just… come back to the house with me, alright? Sleep it off. And if you still hate me in the morning—fine. I’ll even help you hook up with Suguru… if you want.”

Your head jerks back slightly, eyes narrowing. “W-What?” You squint at him, breath curling white between you. “Seriously?”

He shrugs with the ghost of a smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I mean, me and him used to be friends. I’m your best bet.”

“That’s insane,” you mutter.

“I’m aware,” he says dryly. Then, more cautiously: “All I’m asking is that you pretend to be my girlfriend. Just until Christmas is over.”

You scoff, half stumbling again as you try to push away from him. “Why the hell would I do that?”

He hesitates. Then breathes out through his nose, gaze flicking away for a second.

“Because… you saw how excited my friends were to meet you. I don’t have a great relationship with my family, okay? Those guys… they’re all I have. I’ve spent holidays alone more years than I haven’t.” His voice cracks a little, just a hair. “I don’t wanna ruin this one… please?”

Something in your expression softens. It hits you all at once, stupid and sharp: how close he is. How blue his eyes are. Maybe it’s the crack in his voice, or the tired honesty in his face, or the fact that for the first time tonight, he doesn’t look like a liar. He just looks… sad.

“…okay,” you whisper. “Fine. Let’s just… go.”

But when you step forward, you falter slightly, ankle twisting in the snow, and he moves without hesitation — an arm looping under yours, the other bracing your elbow as he helps you upright.

“Shit—okay. Easy, sweetheart. I got you,” he murmurs, adjusting his grip.

And maybe it’s the alcohol, or the heartbreak, or the fact that your guard’s been sanded down to nothing. But for a second? You let yourself lean into him. Just a little. Just enough.

He guides you carefully toward the car. The passenger door creaks open. He ducks down to guide you in, one hand braced above your head so you don’t hit it on the frame. His other hand lingers at your lower back. You glance up at him in the doorway.

“Do you… really think Suguru would like me?”

There’s a flicker in his expression. Then a tight smile.

“I think… he’d be lucky if he did.”

You frown, unsure how to read that. But you don’t press.

He closes the door behind you, gently. And as he rounds the car to take his seat, you rest your head against the window — watching snow dust the windshield like ash.

It’s going to be a long Christmas.

The drive home was quiet. When Satoru glanced through the rearview mirror, he realized you were out cold before he even hit the second red light. Your head was tilted against the window, lips slightly parted, breathing deep and even.

You looked impossibly beautiful.

By the time he pulled into the driveway, the snow picked up again, soft and powdery in the glow of the porch light. Satoru kills the engine and glances at you one more time.

“Hey… uh. We’re here?”

But you don’t wake. And honestly, he can’t find it in his heart to wake you himself. So instead, he sighs, “C’mon, sleeping beauty…” climbing out and circling the car. “Right… well. Up and at ‘em.”

He lifts you gently, bridal style. And your head lolls against his shoulder, warm breath ghosting across his collar. When he adjusts his grip, you snuggle closer, burrowing into the crook of his neck. And he tries to act like his brain wasn’t short-circuiting.

As he approaches the estate’s entrance, the door slides open before he can knock. Yuji stands there with a bag of chips in one hand and a soda in the other.

“Woah. Dude. She okay?”

“What?! Of course!” Satoru huffs. “She’s fine. Just—tired. Long flight. Jet lag hit her hard, y’know?”

Yuji nods solemnly. “RIP.”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “Move. Gotta put her to bed.”

Yuji moves. Nobody presses further. Satoru doesn’t stop in the hallway, just takes the stairs two at a time, heading straight for his room, nudging the door open with his foot while he eases you inside.

He lowers you onto the bed slowly, like you might break. Your coat bunches beneath you, and he hesitates — then gently shrugs it off your shoulders, exposing some of your bare skin. You murmur something incoherent, head rolling to the side.

“Shhh… time to get some rest, sweetheart…” he breathes. “Lay back for me, yeah?”

As you lay back, he slips your boots off next, one at a time, fingers brushing your ankles. And god, your feet are freezing.

But as he’s reaching for the blanket—

“Mmmph.”

Your hand fumbles blindly and finds his shirt, tugging him down with you. He stumbles forward slightly, one knee landing on the edge of the bed, catching himself on his palms as you tug him down. Your arms wrap loosely around his waist, burying your face into his chest.

“W-Woah—hey,” he breathes, voice cracking a little. “You’re—uh. Kinda clinging there, huh?”

You don’t answer. You just… sigh. Sleepy and content. He lies beside you, unsure where to put his hands, heart racing. You’re cold. He can feel the way you press into him, like he’s the warmest thing in the world. Your fingers bunch his shirt. Your nose nuzzles the fabric.

“Mm… s’toru…”

His heart flutters, and he knows you’ll probably hate him again in the morning, but he doesn’t move.

Because he likes the way you cling to him. Because he’s selfish. Because the girl he lied to for weeks is now curled up in his bed, face pressed to his ribs, saying his name like she’s dreamt it a hundred times.

So, he sleeps beside you that night. Pretending, just for now, that none of it was a lie.

‘I keep thinking… if this is what you’re like over the phone, what the hell am I gonna do if I ever see you in person?’

You’re dreaming again.

Of his voice — that voice. Warm and easy. The one that used to call you at midnight, laughing through the line like it was nothing, like you weren’t slowly losing your mind for a stranger you’d never met.

‘Cause… I really love talking to you. Might just get addicted to you, sweetheart.’

You sigh, stirring slightly against the warmth pressed to you. It’s a heavy, encompassing warmth – like you’ve been swaddled in sunlight and something sweet. There’s an arm draped languidly around your waist, and a thumb twitching against your lower back.

Dreaming.

“Mmph…”

Your thighs are warm, tangled, clinging to something… hard. You wiggle your hips as the rhythm of breathing ebbs and flows beneath you. And that movement makes a low, sleepy sound rumble against your chest.

“Fffuck…”

The groan isn’t innocent, and your brow furrows with a whimper as something firm twitches between your legs. Beginning to grow. A hand flexes at your back, and you instinctively press your thighs tighter, making him gasp.

“Unngh… b-baby…”

As your eyes flutter open, fluttering against his skin, you’re greeted with the slope of his throat, pale in the gray morning light. And the throbbing heat between your legs makes it undeniable now.

This isn’t a dream. This isn’t your bed. This isn’t your blanket. And your thighs are straddling Satoru’s hips with his morning wood right there and holy shit—

“S-Satoru?!”

You squeak. And his brow twitches, snowy lashes fluttering, lips parting on a sleepy inhale. When his hazy gaze focuses, you’re met with that blue. Bluer than the sky, bluer than anything should be this early in the goddamn morning.

But then, awareness sinks in, and he stutters. “H-Huh…?” gaze flicking down to the very compromising position you’re both in.

“Shit!” his voice cracks as you shove at his chest, face molten.

“Oh my god—why the hell are we sleeping together?!” you shriek, and he’s desperately trying to explain. “I—You—” he wheezes as you push his again. “Ow, okay, damn, don’t commit a felony! You literally pulled me into the bed when you were drunk. And then you passed out on top of me! I’m the victim here!”

Your hands are still on his chest, mid-push. But you stop. Breath catching. Eyes locking.

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

You both look down at his dick.

“…so,” he mutters, throat bobbing as his eyes flick back up to your face—very carefully avoiding your chest, failing miserably. “You, uh… gonna move?”

“R-Right!” your cheeks erupt in flames as you scramble off him like he’s on fire, nearly tripping over the bed. “Shit—sorry—I didn’t mean to…”

“No, it’s uh… fine. Totally fine.” He mumbles with an awkward laugh. “I mean… not that I’m complaining… but damn. If this is how you serve breakfast in America? I might need to move and—”

“Don’t.” You snap, making him freeze. “Don’t say that…”

Your arms are crossed as you stand, pressing your lips together tightly. His expression instantly drops, the humor fading. And god. You want to be mad at him. You should be mad.

But mostly?

Last night comes flashing back – your drunk, pathetic sob story. And really, you just feel… humiliated.

“You don’t get to make jokes right now,” your tone trembles as you try to hold it tight. “Not after last night. Not after I flew across the world for someone who doesn’t exist. For some who—” you trail off, failing to find words that don’t sound even more pathetic. And scoff. “God… I’m such an idiot…”

There’s a long pause. Satoru’s quiet, but then you hear him sigh.

“…you’re not. You’re not an idiot.”

Your eyes flick over as you watch him shift upright, pushing a hand through his messy hair. His expression softens, vibrant eyes dimming with a tenderness. And for once, it doesn’t feel like he’s reaching for some smartass line to soften to blow.

“I told you… I shouldn’t have lied. Okay? I know that…” he scratches the back of his head, knowing there’s no excuse he can give you that’ll make him sound any less pathetic. He exhales, pushing on. “Look… just stay until Christmas. Please? I’ll do everything I can to make it up to you. Even… hook you up with Suguru, like I said.”

He hesitates as he says it. But that’s what you want… right? After all, you expected him. You expected Suguru.

You blink, mouth parting as your conversation at the bar comes crashing back towards your foggy memory. You’d said it to spite him. You were drunk and stupid and humiliated, and you just wanted to wound him.

Because you liked him.

You really, really wanted it to be real.

Your mouth parts. You’re about to answer when your phone buzzes.

Mei: How’s Japan, darling? Is he real? I expect those lines~

You stare at the screen. Something twists in your chest — not quite a laugh, not quite a sob. And with a bitter smile, you tuck the phone away.

“Right…” you mutter, rubbing your arm nervously. “Uh… sure. I guess I’ll stay.”

a/n. hello my darlings. merry christmas, i hope you all are enjoying your holiday! i will have pt 2 out before the end of december, lmk if you wanna be tagged. this fic kinda gives me supermodel! gojo vibes? at least with the message it's exploring. hehe. anyways, love you all. thanks for reading 💖

when things start to get suffocating, your feet always move their way to the garden. running from a life that's, practically, a bird cage with iron shackles which holds every part of you tight. unrelenting, even.

if you're allowed to be truthful, you wish for a life where you're able to become a librarian and spend yourself drowned in limitless words that someone has carefully arranged for another soul to see and dive in.

a life that's way out of your arm reach. a life that would never, ever be a part of your life; dreams that would hover you for a lifetime—taunting—like the stars in the sky.

you let out a soft sigh when you finally reach the gazebo that's hidden in the garden of your family's estate. a white, small enough for four kinds of people to fit in the gazebo. one that has vines wrapped around it, painting it as an abandoned place no one has brushed their fingertips on.

that wouldn't be true, though. since you always came here after another lesson on how to properly laugh as a respectable lady. because it turns out, your mother thought the sound of your happiness is noisy and similar to one of a cat screeching. unladylike.

and like any other day, after running through the pathways to your garden to reach the gazebo, you'd place down your stack of books on the table and set yourself down on one of the chairs.

your tangled fingers stretched to your front as your body arch out of reflex from having the tension melts from your body. a low, groan of relief and satisfaction let itself free from between your lips when you feel the creak of joints uncoiled.

it has been an exhausting week, to say the least.

a few minutes past, then, as you flipped pages after pages of the novel spread on the table in front of you. a romance book that has you in the palm of the author's hand. of course it'd be a love story that you're reading. a lady like you is nothing but a hopeless romantic, who wishes a life with a man who'd desire your company and affection.

when you're born into a family full of people with an expectation of you being married to someone with a blessing background—one that may bring honor to the family—you're left with little to no option about falling in love and ending up with that someone.

it's something that many ladies experience. and their way to ease the yearning of the reality that's unable to be brushed off is in the form of a romance novel.

you let out a giggle when the male lead leans in to whisper sweet things into the ear of his lover, the main character of the story. it's a story about a knight whose entrance by a baker who gifted him a piece of bread before he heads to war. a simple gesture, yet it leaves him craving for a feel of her soft skin against him.

“ah, if only i could experience something similar to this.” you heard yourself whisper to the air.

maybe, just maybe, the cool breeze will be kind enough to deliver your wish to the deities of this world. no one knows, really, it could be granted in the snap of a finger.

hums of a song you heard played during a party from months ago weave into the air from your mouth. your body sways, dancing along the calming melody as you flip to the next page. and when a sound of grass rustling reached your ears, your movement halted abruptly.

your gaze darting to your right side, cautiously, as you take in the sight before you— a rabbit. each of your senses felt sharpened in that moment. you became hyper aware. in a way that has you questioning if the feelings you have gone through in your whole life were even yours to feel.

it doesn't make sense, does it? well, the scene that's in your view is far from making sense. it defies all the possibilities that this world has offered to you since the very first breath you take.

a rabbit, wearing a whole noble-like outfit greets your gaze the very second it landed to the source of the rustling sounds. it's standing on its two little feet, too, with its little feet wrapped in navy blue fur. one that's weirdly similar to a blue rose.

some sight that's uncanny.

to make it even out of this world, it's wearing glasses while its hand is holding a pocket watch. the rabbit's appearance is oddly mirroring one of a prime minister; formal, slightly out of date, and with a little touch of someone who spends their life with their brows furrowing at the little things.

can you even refer to a rabbit with the word ‘someone’?

you blink a few times before both of your hands flew to your cheeks. letting a harsh sound echoes in the air, that now is wrapped with an overwhelming intensity of accidentally discovering a part of the world that you're not allowed to have knowledge about.

the rabbit jumps at the slapping sound, letting out a high pitched gasp before muttering something to itself. its mouth moves in a way that's similar to a human talking, scary enough. no, that's not exactly right.

it is moving like how when a human speaks.

without thinking twice, you stand up in a haste and run towards that side of the garden, causing the rabbit's eyes to widen before it gets on four of its feet and hop away from where it stands before.

your curiosity and adrenaline at the revelation of a rabbit dressing as well as acting like a human had you throw all the what-if of danger that might face you from following it.

chasing the rabbit in this already enormous garden became tiring quickly. for some reason, the garden that you've memorized every corner of since you were young feels as if it's growing bigger, bigger, and bigger with every step you take.

and it didn't really help the fact that the rabbit hopped away fast knowing that you're chasing it.

the two of you finally reached the end of the garden, where the tree that your great grandfather's plants stood tall. a tree that he poured all his love, time, and everything the man is: an ash tree.

for all its worth, the ash tree has many different meanings. life, magic, healing— it varies from greek mythology, a certain nation folklore, and kinds of meaning people can think of. though, from what you heard from mouth to mouth, the reason your great grandfather planted this specific tree is because of norse mythology.

in norse mythology, the ash tree is symbolized by ‘yggdrasil’. a sacred world tree connecting the nine worlds and piecing the cosmos together. it's also said that the ash tree is the place where the gods meet. serving as a place where divine beings gather together daily.

that, and also due to the lore of it being a tree where it creates the first humans, ask and embla. showcasing its strength, life-giving properties, and connection to destiny as well as spiritual growth.

a perfect tree to grow and symbolize the family, your great grandfather thought. from the very reason that he thinks he's the ash tree itself, where the roots that the trees grow are his children and grandchildren; continuing his bloodline, spreading the influence of their name, and also strengthening the power that the family holds.

befitting the very truth that he sees himself as a god. after all, this kind of man craves for an acknowledgement that may satisfy their ego as a male in which superior to a woman.

you've never really strolled close to the tree since it's quite far from the gazebo. but now that you're at a close distance, oh dear god, it's exceptionally stunning and huge. truly a painting came to life.

when you're too far lost at the sight of the ash tree, the rabbit that you're chasing hop onto a hole near the tree, leaving you stunned. your heart drops when it suddenly goes missing from your sight, making you scramble away to where it disappears.

it was a gamble.

the moment your eyes lay to the endless darkness the rabbit hole welcomes you, your feet instinctively back away a step back. the very realization that you don't know what will greet you on the other side had you taking another step away, contemplating your decisions.

nonetheless, the possibilities of what might be on the other end is what had you jumping through the rabbit hole, then falling far deep into another realm.

you didn't quite remember what happened when you fell through the rabbit hole.

what you did remember is that it was a tunnel of imaginary things, truly. the walls of the hole that surrounds you were one of a checkered board with kinds of things floating around. it had you spiraling.

there's thousands of books, a variety of hats, tea cups with still tea pouring from a pot, even a table and chairs were there as if it's inviting you to a tea party; welcoming you to another side of the world.

it was tortuously long, you thought that you were thrown out of an endless tunnel as punishment from the deities for being a person who asked many things rather than being grateful for the life they had given you.

so, when it ends and you finally reach the other side of the rabbit hole, you couldn't help but feel grateful and terrified.

how come? you were thrown into a vibrant, colorful forest that looks as if it's your childhood storybook comes to life. the one where your maid would read to you before sleep. it could be a delightful fantasy dream where you're a fairy who decides to leave their beautiful home to travel the world, too.

the point is: the scenery that welcomes you with open arms is one out of your earth.

you forgot every single word you've learned growing up. it felt as if your brain were rewired and you're left with an empty mind, desperate for something to fill in the void that has you gasping for air.

in a few distance from you, stand the rabbit with its wary expression aimed at you. it’s being cautious of the human that had followed them through the rabbit hole.

“... no. are you the one of the prophecy?”

oh, what again now? you thought to yourself.

as if everything isn't already absurdly insane enough to have you question your whole existence, the rabbit decided to talk. it spoke to you. the rabbit is trying to engage in a conversation with you, a human who's now left standing struck.

“w— what prophecy? and, you … you can talk? what is this place? is this a dream?” you asked as your gaze trails around the scene that's painted before you.

the rabbit eyes narrowed at you. its gaze carefully inspect you as if it might give the information that the rabbit is trying to gauge from you. “no, this isn't a dream. this is wonderland.”

“... that's a perfect name for a place that has me wondering. do the creatures here also, always, left pondering?”

“aren't you a smart one?” you heard the rabbit reply in a sarcastic tone.

and suddenly, before you're able to respond to the rabbit's words, a loud sound from the rabbit pocket watch bounces through every tree that’s planted there, before it reaches the rabbit's head. a look of realization settling in its face at the ringing sound of the alarm.

“oh no, the tea party! she's going to be furious!” the rabbit exclaimed as it hops higher in panic mannerisms. “satoru, come out and accompany this lost soul!”

your brows furrowing at the rabbit words. it just yelled to the air, asking—or rather forcing—to appear before you whom the rabbit referred to as ‘lost soul’.

“shouldn't you be more polite to me?”

on your right ear, a voice went through it and left your left. too close to your liking, if you're allowed to say it. the sound of it travels from your ears through every fiber in you before it arrives at the designated harbor, your heart.

in a swift moment, your head turns facing the source of the voice. and for the love of everything you hold dear, the moment your gaze fell onto the one that uttered those words, you jumped from where you stood while letting a high pitch scream of surprise.

what came to your view is a cat. an exceptionally divine appearance for a cat, too. its furs are stripes of two colors that go beautifully with one another— a white that's whiter than the first drop of snowflake on your palm when you were younger, and blue that's deeper than the ocean you traveled a month ago.

the cat who the rabbit called with ‘satoru’ is floating around you with its sharp eyes roaming over your whole being in a way that's both similar to a prayer waiting to be granted and one of a wish come true.

“it really is the girl of the prophecy. the one called ‘alice’ finally blessed us with her presence,” the cat purred as it flew away to the rabbit side.

“oh, i never thought it'd be the anti-social lady of that family.” the rabbit then, once again, examines you with eyes that sparkles amusement.

your head tilted in a disapproving manner at the rabbit words. “pardon, little rabbit?”

“who are you calling a little rabbit?” its eyes sharpen at the way you called the rabbit. long gone the sparkles of amusement and came a gaze full of disapproval.

“now, now, you should head your way to the party before she's pissed off. i shall follow up with the lady later.”

at the cat's voice of reason, the rabbit sighs with reluctance. "don't be too late, she's not exactly fond of late arrival.”

with that, the rabbit hops away deeper to the forest—magical forest, you now decided— and leaves you alone with the cat that attention is glued to you again. after casting a one side glance at you, if you might add it.

“apologies for that, little lady. the rabbit despises being called little.” it spoke to you after a few minutes of silence.

“you just called me little lady.”

“oh, do you hate it?”

you stay quiet at the question. you're not sure whether the idea of a cat calling you ‘little lady’ appealing or not. it sounded weird hearing the term from a cat that now starts floating close to where you stand; erasing the distance.

and the silence is the only answer the cat needed for his question that has faded into the air. you're now standing—well, floating for the cat—eye to eye.

the silence stretches for a few more minutes before the cat grins in a way that has your heart fluttering. a grin that's both full of mischief and tease. it's the kind that's menacing, taunting you with an amplified painting of how it’d be if the cat is a human. because oh well, the grin it offers you is so, oh annoyingly enchanting.

it's the one that has you wanting to grab the cat and throw it across the forest in an aggressive, full of adore kind of mannerism.

“i know what you're thinking,” the cat said to you.

you blink a few times. the thought of the cat being able to hear your thoughts crosses your mind. flashes as fast as the light, even. this world isn't an ordinary world. it's a realm where nothing makes sense— the cat having an ability to hear the whispers in your mind isn't exactly out of the possibilities.

“no, you don't.”

“i do know. anything is possible in wonderland, if you haven't quite caught it.”

as the breeze of the forest kisses your skin delicately while the petals of flowers that are scattered on the ground dance along with the wind, you're left stunned. because the cat's words aren't exactly wrong, no. rather than having yet to catch it, it's more on the side where your mind is still trying to comprehend that you fell to another realm.

the cat floats around circling you during the crisis you're feeling inside. its tail brushes your cheek every so often, causing shudder runs down your spine. the cat is inspecting you intensely, you can't help but feel as if you're bare and undressed for it to see.

before you're able to answer the words he uttered, for the umpteenth time, the cat suddenly glows brightly. it's as scorching as the sun during summer and as bright as a fireflies light in the darkness. above it all, the light that it radiates is blue.

for the minutes spent on the cat beaming in a way that almost had you blind, you can see a glimpse of a human that's taller than you standing in front of you. the sudden sight of it has you taking a step back, looking around for the cat before the realization settles in: the human is the cat.

in the process of transforming into a human, precisely.

to say that you're startled is an understatement. by now, you genuinely thought that you almost comprehend how this world doesn't work the same way yours does and that there's no need to pay too much attention to everything. then again, you just fell your way to this part of the universe a couple minutes ago.

and truthfully, you don't think that you'll ever live down all the things that's happening in this world and whatever that comes with it.

your breath hitched at the view in front of you as air leaves your lungs and leaves you breathless. depriving you from the need and desperation of wanting to breathe because the cat in front of you had just turned into a human.

the sight that’s gracing you is one of a magnificent, divinely sculpted form of a man for your pair of eyes to behold. forever and evermore, in this lifetime of yours.

he has turned into a charming man. his whole appearance mirroring the fur of his cat form; hair whiter than the clouds above, blue eyes that's as clear as the sky, and a skin oh so annoyingly tainted in this pale yet warm tone. he's dressed in this noble like clothes similar to those of duke characters you read on those romance novels.

a grin as dangerous as the thorn of a rose laced his lips and completed the whole new appearance of him.

“satoru. you may call me satoru, our alice.”

it's the name that this man mused to the rabbit’s ears earlier. the one they piece side-by-side with ‘the prophecy’ for countless times now. a prophecy that apparently has connection with you because, well, you're their ‘alice’.

before you question everything that's wandering your mind, you clear your throat and decide that perhaps this is the appropriate as well as perfect time to introduce yourself, with the name that was bestowed upon you from your father's mouth.

satoru, the now-turned-into-human-cat eyebrows raise at the sudden whisper of your name. your name rolled out of your tongue in a bewitching, alluring melody that has the man's mouth open and closes a few times; loss of words.

and really, it seems as if the expression that painted his face, the state of him in this moment is one of pretending. it lacks the realness of a living creature after hearing someone's name for the first time.

his pair of ocean blue eyes are glimmering with fondness and something dangerously close to familiarity.

“come now, we're late to the tea party. we don't want to enrage the host, don't we?” he said before latching his hand with yours delicately.

the now-turned-into-human-cat gently pulls you deeper to the forest while your eyes locked in the way your hand tangled with his.

it feels odd and a sense of familiarity starts creeping up on you. an overwhelming, eating you from inside kind.

on your way to the tea party you're heading to, satoru—ever so kindly—decided to tell you the prophecy that have been clouding your mind in a haze.

apparently, in this place they call ‘wonderland’ there's a prophecy of a human from another realm sent to their way, as the universe way to help for the disaster that has wrapped the wonderland.

what disaster? well, the wonderland that's supposed to be a place where weirdness, funkyness, and playfulness stand with one another has gradually started losing its color. the once vibrant color place became as dull as an unsharpened sword.

you didn't understand what he meant by ‘losing’ color at first. the wonderland is, truly, a painting that came to life. you've never seen anything near close to the sight that has been blessing your eyes.

that's what you thought before your feet reached deeper into the forest where all the plants are dying, vibrant colors that you see on the other side of the forest are nowhere for you to see; a catastrophic in any meaning possible.

from satoru's side of story, a witch has cursed the wonderland in envy of living accompanied by loneliness on the farthest part of this place. the witch said that only ‘alice’, from another realm, is able to release the curse and turned everything back to the way it was.

and ‘alice’ itself in wonderland has turned from someone's name into a living being who'll ‘return everything back to normal’. no one knows when the long-awaited light will come to their world through the world tree.

nothing else is known about it. they who live in wonderland only understand that ‘alice’ will some day come as their saviour.

you.

the one and only creature that has come to the wonderland from the world tree in their world is you. never once before you have they been graced by another living being from another realm. you're the only one.

“... let's say that it's true— that i'm this so-called ‘alice’ that everyone has been waiting for. but, how am i supposed to break the curse?”

another beat of silence stretches between you and satoru. the now-turned-into-human-cat has been quiet since he tells the story of what has bestowed on the wonderful place, wonderland. it seems that it's quite a traumatizing event for him.

of course, he's traumatized. his home is cursed, you whisper in your head.

“isn't that for you to figure out, little lady?” he responded after a while. the grin that decorated his lips earlier is back in full-view as he glances at you over his shoulder.

you huff in annoyance at his words. how are you supposed to know anything when you've only been here for a short time? not to mention, you only figured out about this prophecy that apparently you took part of.

“you're the one who lives here and tells me the prophecy,” you took a deep breath as you paused. “are you really telling me that there's not a single word about how i will return everything back to normal?”

“i'm heartbroken to say that the witch is quite uncooperative.”

“mhm … tell me all about it.”

he laughs, then, at your remarks. “you have an interesting manner of speaking, it seems.” his hand that's curled against yours tightening slightly.

“what are you talking about? we talked similarly,” you reply with brows furrowing. unamused expression scattered on your face.

satoru shakes his head, eyes zeroed to the front as he leads the way to the tea party. “no, no, no. your way of talking is quite weird. maybe it's your tone?”

maybe he should shut his mouth, you think.

truthfully, the words almost left between your lips in a snarky tone. you truly don't understand what he meant. the two of you talk similarly, you're sure of it. either that or you're tone-deaf. or he's trying to get a raise from you on purpose.

“have you always been this … infuriating?”

the question was something you tried to hold on in fear of offending him. however, when the man itself has been offending you, why would you hold back? and truthfully, this isn't how you usually act back in your world, but again— the now-turned-into-human-cat has been poking the bear, which is you.

“that’s a little too harsh, little lady. i’d call it entertaining,” he so-called corrected, as he playfully shot you a wink. one that has your eyes twitching in agitation.

“is that how you act towards the so-called 'alice'? who's supposed to be the one to save your wonderland?”

satoru hums hearing your words. the corner of his lips tugs upward even more as the grin became more prominent on his face. like it's not already quite annoying enough.

“you're still, supposedly, the ‘alice’ we're searching for. let's not go around claiming that, shall we?”

“YOU'RE THE ONE— you know what? fine. i shall not argue with the now-turned-into-human-cat in the wonderland full of wonder.”

he said it himself to the rabbit that you're ‘alice’ earlier and now he's pretending he didn't say that is beyond your mind. you almost melt into a puddle at how welcoming he has been to you, treating you as if you're a part of this realm. now you feel nothing but fury at his personality.

you might not be the best person to exist, you understand that as you're more than self-aware about the very reality of it. but still, you're not infuriating enough to pull strings of anger from someone you just met.

even if sparks of familiarity are lighting up between both of you, while showing its sharp edges directly towards you, you wouldn't do it.

from the corner of your eyes as you mumble curse words under your breath, you catch satoru blinking a few times before halting in front of a bush.

… did we trail off the pathways? why are we standing here? you asked yourself.

you watch him take a deep, long breath before exhaling. and may god help you because this single action he did has your heart pounding in panic; he's making you nervous by acting serious all of a sudden. really, it was in a blink of an eye.

satoru turns around to face you and it's only then that you're able to catch an emotion that was buried under the thousands of faces he has— sympathy.

“they're all nothing but madness. everything here is quite unique,” he informed. “so, be prepared, little lady. you might catch a heart attack,” satoru whispers softly.

and that softness that he let you have only lasts a second before he starts smiling. infuriatingly so. the smile that's a painting perfect of the smug as well as the self-confidence expression that painters desperately tried to replicate on a canvas. it's gracing his ethereal face infuriatingly.

oh god, this man sure loves to place his hands on your nerves in all the right and wrong places.

before you're able to make snarky remarks both in irritation and confusion at the little amount of explanation from his words, he has already pushed you through the bush. a push that has you yelping out of surprise because, well, even if it's oh so gentle, you're being pushed towards a bush. and yelping is the only reasonable reaction, to say the least.

you're not used to anything abnormal that's the way it is in wonderland, yet.

to your already surprised state of being suddenly pushed towards a bush, you're welcome by sounds of chaotic mess which rings in your ears, making you startled. its sounds that came from many kinds of chattering, voices of a ceramic clashing against each other, water splashing to a surface and mouth munching something.

in front of you, then, is a crowd of humans as well as animals that gaze now has fallen to you; acknowledging your existence. every movement that was in the making came to stop abruptly, hanging in the air. each of them had turned into a mannequin with curious wide eyes as their intention became yours solely.

satoru stopped beside you, waving at the scene in front of you two as he finally muttered his proper greetings to you, the first wanderer of this part of the universe. the long-awaited sign of you being gratefully accepted into this realm, precisely.

“welcome to your first wonderland tea party.”

the second your feet securely rooted on the ground after being pushed, you're surrounded by the group that greets your eyesight earlier.

“oh my, is this the anti-social lady of that house you mentioned earlier, megumi?!” a short-haired girl mused as she strode around you, taking in your appearance.

she's wearing quite an interesting outfit, you must say. everything that she's wearing is a combined patchwork of kinds of fabrics sewn into one piece. and the cherry on top of it all is the decorative hat that's placed on the girl's head.

a truly befitting ‘madness’ satoru had been mentioned earlier.

“look at her outfit, she's matching with satoru! their outfit is a similar blue!” beside you, a boy with pinkish hair chimes in as he points at your outfit scandalously.

you open your mouth, wanting to dive into the conversation, before being cut-off from seeing another figure standing not so far away from you. and creepily enough, you have this ringing of bells in your head that you've seen the boy before. he almost looks like the rabbit you followed here.

“he is indeed the rabbit from earlier. the name is megumi,” satoru informed. he's gesturing at megumi to move closer in which the boy responded with a huff.

oh so, apparently all the animals have turned into humans. right, this is the wonderland where everything is a wonder— no need to ponder too much about the things that's happening here; you might lose your mind.

… you may already lose it, if you're being true to yourself.

everything happens in a heartbeat before you realize that you're sitting in a chair with a hat decorating the top of your head. you blink a few times, mind reeling from how fast things are moving and at the view before you— everything is floating around.

it truly never gets old how you keep being surprised one after another, truly.

“sooo, tell me all about this outfit of yours!” the short-haired girl said to you as she poured tea herself into the cup in front of you.

satoru who's now sitting beside you popped a macaron inside his mouth, he munch on it as his hand reached for a strawberry shortcake displayed on the table. “the proper manner is for you to introduce yourself first, nobara.”

the short-haired girl whom satoru called ‘nobara’ huffed when she heard the man's words, eyes narrowing slightly as she watched the man nibbling on the cake.

“i was going to!” she pointed. her eyes return to yours, not noticing how the tea she's pouring is over spilling to the tablecloth, staining it. you wanted to inform her about it, but she's one step faster than you to let a word out.

oh, so everyone here loves to cut-off before another person even speaks, you notice.

her corner eyes crinkled as she shot you the most wide, full of joy smile you've ever seen. one that's really aimed at you. she leans closer to you, face only some inches away.

“i'm nobara, the host of this party! i've heard about you from megumi there,” she babbled as she pointed at megumi who's sitting across from you.

you nodded slowly, unsure of how to approach this smiley and quite aggressive host of the party without coming out awkward. “... yes, um, the rabbit.”

sounds of an instrument played all of a sudden, causing you to jump in your seat. a chaotic melody of piano, trumpet, violin, and other instrumental music clashing against one another— adding another layer of madness in the tea party.

“you're co-rr-ect! what did i saaay?” her arms raise to the air as everyone that attends the tea party responded to her with a high-pitched scream of, “correct!”

at this point, you're more than surprised by the very reality that your ears haven't bleed from the chaotic sounds that's bouncing around the whole place. well, you supposed it's a blessing in a way.

“he is indeed a rabbit! aren't you a bright ‘alice’, oh our dearest savior!” the pink haired boy whistles to the breeze.

maybe satoru, the now-turned-into-human-cat, should've warned you before you two even took a step away from the part of the forest where you fell into. the atmosphere that's wrapping you isn't a blanket of comfort, no. it's a blanket of overwhelming chaos that has your mind railing as well as desperately wishing to let itself free from this place.

what a lady that's, practically, confined to the cage that's her house to do in a place where everyone is the embodiment of pure madness?

it's truly a wonder that you have yet passed out from how you feel your whole soul starts to fade away due the intensity of everything that's happening all at once.

“your tea.”

your head snapped to your right side where satoru sits. he's eyeing you as if he's looking past through your skin to the core of your soul. his head tilted slightly towards your cup of tea, signaling for you to take a sip.

a forceful smile graces your lips before your fingers carefully wrapped around the cup's handle. the reflection of you, wearing a funky hat, on the tea almost had you shedding a tear of ridiculousness; a sight that's far from the lady of a respectable household.

it almost had you let out a loud, screeching laugh that your mother despised. the one that, for all it's worth, a perfect laugh for a place like wonderland.

the tea tasted delightful. a soothing, faint flavour of rose and apple tickle your taste buds. a pair of two things you never thought would go well together, if you're being honest. turns out, it's really a treat in the midst of this haze of falling into another realm.

drops of tea trickle down from the rim edges of the cup, halting your movement of taking another sip. you look around at the table, gaze wandering around looking for a napkin of some sort.

none. you should've expected it, really. it's a tea party where everything floats around and throws common sense into the trash bin. still though, no one's allowed to blame you for wondering if in the place where everything seems possible, a napkin will be in view.

you sigh at how the fabric of your dress is slowly absorbing the fluid, staining your pretty blue sky dress that you adore. the one you always wear to the garden of your estate— ah, right, your estate.

how much time have passed in your world while you're sitting here at a tea party is something that hasn't crossed your mind. surely, the time works differently between two worlds in this universe. though, rather than being curious or concern about that, the one thing that's gnawing at you now is whether anyone search for you.

a missing lady of the infamous family would be a huge hit as the headlines in the newspaper. whether it's a popular company or not, that's a topic everyone would want to get their hands on and try to unfold.

if you're a journalist of some sort, you would've run to your family's estate and demand to interview them. taking your chances in leading the whole catastrophe.

when you're lost in thoughts, attention roaming around the place, satoru is leaning towards you. only a breath away. and the moment his snowy hair greeted your view, you're caught off guard. “what—”

satoru doesn't respond or let a single word leave his mouth at your confused state. his attention is zeroed on the spill of tea on your clothes, taking the sight of the blue tainted tea dress. it splatters in an amount that's quite noticable.

his hand, holding a handkerchief, brushes against the fabric of your dress; wiping off the liquid that's left.

your mouth fell open. that action of his causes your heart to beat rapidly, it's pounding in a harsh manner you swear it almost popped out of your ribcage, your body. short-circuiting is an understatement on how you feel at his gesture.

“i thought a lady would know the proper etiquette of a tea party. guess i shouldn't assume anything about someone, huh?”

hearing his words, you can't help the pout that starts to lace your lips. truthfully, he's not entirely wrong. you have the knowledge on proper etiquette and everything to learn about a tea party. as a lady from a prosperous household, it's expected of you.

though, you feel that everything is too much for you at the moment. your senses are as sharp as it can be, heightened taller than the whole sky; overwhelming you.

and as if it's not frustrating enough with these turns of events, you keep thinking that your surroundings are either shrinking or blooming larger than you. like a miniature of a doll house, you can't help the surging terrifies as if someone's watching you and about to move you around.

you clears your throat, blinking a few times before flashing a soft, small smile at satoru who's watching you intently. before this, you didn't really notice it— but although he's in a human form, satoru's pair of eyes still have the unique vertical slit pupils that all cats are known for.

it caught you off guard, truly. as if piercing through both your skin and bones, his stare stings similar to a sharp blade. if you didn't know any better, you swear that a part of you must've been cut open and bleeds down.

“... thank you.” you can't seem to find any words to mutter other than your gratitude at his actions. your mind involuntarily let his remarks about tea party etiquette slip away.

satoru let out a soft humming, tossing the napkin to the table before him as he leaned back to the chair. “you're oddly a bland person. or are you just, i don't know, what's the word they usually use …?”

his foot taps against the grass, letting a sound of it brushing with one another filling your already intense, overwhelming senses. “oh, isn't it called ‘boring’?” he continues.

“pardon?” no, you're not exactly offended at his remarks. you're more confused at how he's comfortable enough to tell you that you're ‘boring’ when you two barely know each other.

calling you ‘bland’ is one thing. it's understandable on a certain level. but outright saying that you're ‘boring’ is far more than what your already mixed feelings state can take.

at this point you're sure that you're, pretty much, a barrel filled with water placed on a ship— rolling all around the place, disarray and an absolute mess of an inside.

“this is wonderland,” he stated. satoru's eyebrow raises as his gaze trails over you, “and you're supposedly our ‘alice’, yet you're as bland as a potato.”

“potatoes aren't necessarily bland.” you heard yourself immediately went to reply to his words. and again, the whole thing about being their ‘alice’ who's the savior of wonderland is too much when they don't even know how you're supposed to help.

if they, people of wonderland, have no knowledge of how you'll save them— how are you, an outsider of their realm, able to help?

satoru just shrugs, paying no mind to what you're saying. “you have no freakiness that's supposed to be the identity of our beautiful wonderland.”

“because i’m not a part of your world. this is practically nowhere for me,” you answer with a defiant tone. your head starts throbbing terribly every second that passes.

your wince at how you feel you're twirling around, having no control of yourself. your hands immediately went to your head, holding for dear life as your fingers found its way to tangle with the strands of your hair; pulling them in a desperate manner.

“OH! the ‘alice’ is dancing! why didn't you invite us, oh, dearest savior?”

nobara’s voice bounces around the space, causing everyone and their mothers attention to drift away at you, focusing solely on you.

and really, you didn't even notice that you had stood up from where you sat, stumbling your way to the crowd of people. you have no clue how you ended up in that place, you have zero idea why you were moving there when you're anything but yourself right now.

everyone started to gather around you, moving along to your rhythm as they laughed and chattering amongst one another. they're surrounding every space that's there for you to breathe; stealing air from your lungs as they keep moving closer, closer, and closer to you.

“she's so hilarious! look at the way she's moving! she's slowly becoming a part of wonderland!”

“oh, yuuji, you're so riiight! she's turning into one of us!” nobara squeaks excitedly, patting the pink haired boy name ‘yuuji’ on his shoulder.

the boy just shrugs, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he puffs out the chest with a satisfied, wide grin. the expression painted on his face makes it seem as if he just won the largest lottery in the world.

not that you're sure there's such a thing there.

you keep moving around before eventually falling on your knees, hands pressed into the grass. your breathing became more ragged than it already is, making your heart ache from the lack of air. it didn't help that your head is pounding more than ever now.

something stings.

a sharp, cutting through your skin type of stings.

the painful gasp that left your lips is more than understandable, because the moment you lift up your hand, you catch a piece of ceramic piercing through your skin.

“oh my goodness! the ‘alice’ is in pain! who breaks the cups again? didn't i remind all of you to be careful? it's a pretty set!” nobara shouted as she crouched down to your side.

once again, everyone is erasing their distance with you. your personal space is nothing but a dream out of reach with how they're surrounding you; stealing all what you have in this world as someone who came far, far away.

“don't surround her, she's overwhelmed.”

satoru’s voice went right through your ears before you felt everyone taking some steps away from you. “clean up the shattered ceramics,” satoru told everyone. in a way that felt like an order.

he's on your side a minute later, a hand on your back as it rubs circles softly— trying to soothe you, somehow. he whispers sweet nothings to your ears, ones that you can't quite pinpoint what he's saying. you can't catch what he's whispering as you're too far gone at this moment.

“... it's vibrant.”

megumi’s voice, as loud as it can be, as matter of fact as anything that's true in wonderland catches everyone's attention. their movement halted abruptly, looking at the surroundings that in all truth turned into one as it was before the witch cursed it.

yuuji was the first one to find his voice after the state of surprise that washes them in a trance. “he's right … everything is blooming again!”

and with that, all the residents of the wonderland: humans, animals, nature are singing in pure happiness. as if they're trying to write a melody that's out of this world, everyone's voices are replying to one another in this rhythm that's bewitching.

while you, on the other hand, are nothing but a mess of a human. you can't quite catch whether you're the one that's shrinking and growing bigger or if it's your surroundings. you feel more, more, and more out of place each passing moment.

the blood that trickles down your hand is all you can see. hands shaking in fear as you feel everything, slowly but surely, crumbling under your touch. it's getting too much and you can't do anything about it as you're frozen in place.

“my lady.”

a voice as soft as silk, as gentle as the sun at morning times graces your ears in a soothing manner. in a way that's trying to get you back into reality, helping you to ground yourself.

it calls your name a few times. first, it sounds alluring; pulling you carefully from the mess that you can't hold. second, it starts to turn into a firm one; panic creeping up faintly. third, it cracks; the breaking point before you hear it turns into a shout of panic.

“my lady!”

you're startled at the loud sound of someone calling at you. eyes closing shut at the sudden scream at your ear and all you can see is white.

they started to shake you, then. it was firm, slightly harsh, but a hint of fear can be felt in the way this person shakes you senseless. and when you slowly start to feel the world under your fingertips again, you open your eyes.

as your eyes flicker open slowly, letting the light in, you feel the blood that trickles down on your hand run through your arm.

“ah, thank god …” the voice sigh in relief. their hold on you softens, rubbing delicately against the spot they grip you before.

when your eyes finally start to function again, you're greeted by the sight of the man who has been accompanying you for a while now. his eyes are boring into yours, the eyebrows of his are scrutinizing in worry.

“you were gone for a while. everyone keep searching for you,” he muses. his gaze dropping to the blood that's staining your skin. and the ones on your blue dress.

he pressed his lips into a thin line. the face of his twisted into one of pain and worry. “you should've run inside the moment you feel it happening again.”

“... satoru,” you whisper, voice cracking.

“there you are,” satoru answered with a soft, relief tone of voice. as if he's coaxing you to the reality that you were taken away from.

his hand finds its way to wipe away the blood on your arm. “we should head back. you need to clean up and change, my lady. everyone is worried.”

you blink once. twice. “it happened again. i was panicking and i didn't know how— why am i here …”

satoru nod at your words, his hand finds its way to gently cup your cheek. he caresses your skin carefully like it's his other way of kissing your skin with his touch.

the man in front of you, who has been by your side for quite some time as he's always there for every step you take, is none other than satoru gojo; your fiance, your doctor.

he's been by your side for as long as you know, since you were diagnosed with the one and only rare syndrome— alice in wonderland syndrome. one that he helps you with as a doctor, before it blooms into something romantic. where now you two find one another as each other's partners.

alice in wonderland syndrome: a brain-related condition. a rare neurological condition that causes distorted perceptions of one's body and surroundings. or both. making things seem bigger, smaller, farther, or closer. it can alter the sense of time, too.

it's a condition where it disrupts how you perceive yourself and the world around you.

you're not sure when it started, but it has been something that lives alongside you for as long as you know. and unfortunately, there's only a little amount to know about the syndrome at the time. it's a rare condition where it's still being learned by professionals.

one time, at night, you find yourself in one of those days when the syndrome comes to life and causes you to lose your grasp on reality. it wasn't planned when you accidentally knocked on your flower vase, as you thought it was farther and when you stepped on it— the pain brought you back to your senses.

the stinging was something that tickles a part of your brain. it felt like someone punched you in your guts, you found yourself gasping for air that night. and ever since that time, you keep sauntering your way to search for something that might hurt you.

all to bring you back to reality; returning what's lost of your life back to normal.

your gaze fell to the bushes of white roses on your side. the once whiter than snow and fluffy as the cloud rose is now stained with maroon scattered all over it, from your blood which came from the hand of yours that was pierced to the thorns.

“hey,” satoru calls you softly, trying to return your attention back to him. “let's head inside, hm? you should clean up and rest.”

his hand that was on your cheek raised to brush away the strands of your hair that covers your face, tucking it behind your ear as he pulls you closer. “you must be tired.”

“... alright.”

you reluctantly followed him when he delicately tangled your hand with his, paving both of your way back to the estates of your family. his steps as careful as it can be— paying mind to your current state after facing the relapse of the syndrome.

“my books are in the gazebo,” you mumbled, mind still trying to recover from everything you've been through.

satoru nod at your words, “i’ll grab it for you later.” his hand squeeze yours, as if he's afraid you're going to slip from his fingers again. “you walk quite far this time around.”

at his words, your head tilted slightly. “me? what do you mean?” confusion laced the tone of yours. and the pounding of your heart that was stabilized just a moment ago, starts to feel as if it's trying to let itself free for the umpteenth time.

“you went as far as to the ash tree.”

it's only then that you notice where both of you are standing— the end of the garden, where the ash tree that your great grandfather's plants stood. a place that's somewhere far, far away from the gazebo.

the tree that in norse mythology symbolized by ‘yggdrasil’ which is known as ‘tree of life’. a sacred world tree encompassing the nine worlds and piecing the cosmos together.

connecting the world, traveling to another realm, some people might say. like a time travel machine, except it's to a world far from yours instead of jumping into another timeline.

“did you drink tea at the gazebo?” satoru asked, he's pulling you closer to him. casting a side glance on your way as he examines you from head to toe, assessing you.

you shake your head. “not that i remember. why are you asking?” you blink at him, wondering at the sudden question about tea.

“there's a stain of tea on your dress, too.” satoru gestures at your dress, pointing at the one of the many stains that tainted your dress.

it was silent, then. your mind trying to process what he said while your gaze roamed over your dress to find the stain that he mentioned. and when you catch what he's referring to? you're left with nothing but confusion.

were you drinking tea earlier? you're not sure, you can't seem to remember anything. isn't it your blood? or is it not?

you take a deep breath before exhaling, letting out the overwhelming feelings that's starting to creep up on you again. like an endless rabbit hole, there's almost no way of telling when it'll end.

satoru's intent eyes are on you, trailing over your disheveled appearance; hair a mess as if it had been pulled by something, dress stained with blood and what he assumes tea, and your hands that's dripping blood from being pierced.

“no need to think too much about it, maybe it really is the blood,” he tried to assure you.

right. there's no need to ponder about something out of your reach. you're still a tangled mess of a yarn that's waiting to be untangled, there's no point in fussing over whether you drink tea or not.

you let a low hummed as an answer to his words, walking a step quicker to walk by his side. “yeah … maybe.”

it's probably the stain of blood that dries brown instead of the other maroon ones. it happens sometimes, right? it's nothing but blood, you're sure of it. it can't be tea, since you're almost certain you didn't drink anything at the gazebo earlier.

a brown stain of blood, you're sure of it.

… right?

[ ✦ ] guys, i know blood can dries brown, but let's just pretend it can't here, okay! muah.

Satoru had paid him a ‘nice’ little trip after that, and threatened him so much he’d pissed his pants. Satoru had chuckled at just how pathetic that boy was, but really you were much better off without a cheating asshole. Even though he knew you were currently staying at this coffee shop – your car hasn’t left it – he did all this for your own good, really.

It was way past time for him to have you for Christmas, filled with his pretty white cum, he’d give you so much of it too, in all your holes. He’d decorate you in Christmas lights and tie you up, make sure you never left – why would you though, when you finally were his? You’d never have to work this shitty job again, he would keep you so full of cum you’d have trouble walking anyway.

The thoughts alone make his cock twitch underneath his slacks – he really should feel just a bit sick and depraved for his thoughts, but weren’t they sort of pure? Didn’t he just want to give you a perfect white Christmas?

“What’s wrong?” He asks, feigning confusion but not concern.

Of course he was upset you were hurting, even though you’ll be so much better off soon. God don’t you deserve it?

“Bad breakup ugh, I think I’m not getting enough sleep,” you mumble, handing him his warm coffee cup then, steam rising in a puffy little cloud. “Please take this free, for me just sobbing like this.”

“No way,” his fingers brush yours now, you gasp just a bit at the connection, before blushing right under his gaze.

Fuck you’re pretty.

“Are you okay honey?” Your boss comes to you, a hand on your back, you nod quickly, swiping tears. “She’s just having a rough Christmas.”

“How so?” Satoru asks, leaning on the counter, elbows propped up on the glass, setting his cup down.

“Please you don’t have to listen to my fucked ass life lately, I’m sure you have work to get to.”

“I run my own company, sweetheart,” you and your boss swoon at his little smile. “So I have time.”

“Why don’t you get a coffee with him?” Your boss nudges you just a bit, you frown at her.

“Are you sure?”

“Go ahead, sit for a bit,” she makes you a cup. “I’ll take over.”

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur, she just pats your back, and you nervously look at Satoru, clearing your throat now. “Do you wanna sit for a few?”

“Of course, I have time, Christmas is dead at the corp.”

“You do marketing, right?”

“Mhm, thrilling shit,” you giggle a bit, melting him like the snow that’s left little wet drops on his coat. Your cute, puffy eyes and nose just a little rubbed raw clearly, he can tell you’ve been crying over that trash.

He can’t wait to make you feel so good.

“No one wants to buy anything so things are slow, it’s kind of just hanging out at the office right now,” he leans back, sipping the drink, letting the sweetness hit his tongue and moaning. “You make the best coffee.”

“No way!”

“Mhm, it’s why I come, also…” he trails off with a little smile.

“Also what?”

“Pretty baristas make my morning better.”

“Oh, not me right now,” you’re a flustered mess, brushing back your hair now, sighing. “You’re sweet though.”

“Am I?” He certainly isn’t thinking anything sweet, no he’s imagining if your cum tastes as good as this cream in his coffee.

“Very, ah where do I begin?”

“I guess why you’re crying, I’m a good listener,” his knees brush against yours under the little table, you look out at the snow for a moment, sighing.

“I may have gotten kicked out and broken up with.”

“Ouch, on Christmas?”

“Yeah,” you grimace, sipping your coffee, feeling the bitter beans coat your mouth in warmth, looking back at Satoru’s handsome face. “It’s like some shitty hallmark movie, I’m staying here till I get a new place.”

“At the coffee shop?” He blinks just a bit, you frown, nodding. “Well, then I have a Christmas gift.”

“What’s that?” you set the cup down, he pulls out his phone now, showing you a picture with a little smile. “Is this…”

“My pool house, I was just putting it up for rent. My friend lived there for a bit and moved out, so I was gonna see if anyone wanted to rent it out, it’s three bedrooms and fully furnished.”

So his poolhouse was bigger than your apartment – three times as big as you flipped through the photos.

“This is just your poolhouse?”

“Yeah, this is my house,” he swipes right to a literal fucking manor. “Pretentious, I know, the family home blah blah.”

“No it’s beautiful,” you hand him back the phone, frowning a bit then. “The thing is, I spent all my damn money on this guy, I do have an advance, but no way I could afford that.”

You were getting a whole different degree after over five years of college, and you’re another two years in. You feel you’re the only twenty five year old starting all over, but you just hated what you majored in – thus the barista job. You’re literally a walking cliche, and here is this rich CEO being way too sweet.

“Maybe like when I graduate I could afford-”

“I’ll give you crazy cheap rent,” he wouldn’t charge you a fucking dollar. “Like just whatever you can pay comfortably.”

“What?” You blink now, gasping. “Why?”

“Why not help out? I wanna be on the nice list and all,” he smirks just a bit, far too charming, fucking you up with that look. “It’s Christmas, you shouldn’t be staying in a coffee shop.”

“I don’t know how I’ll repay you, though.” You blink back tears now, Satoru’s hand brushes one aside gently, a cool touch on a heated cheek.

God he could think of many ways, you on your knees for him, the weight of his cock on your tongue, sliding in and out of that pretty, perfect mouth. You bent over his desk, letting him pump his loads into you, before he fingers them right back in your cunt, making sure to keep it in, breeding your perfect pussy.

“You can make me coffee at my place every morning,” he says softly, snowy lashes flickering just a bit across your face. “Maybe cook me a real Christmas Dinner, I haven’t had one in a long time.”

“I can absolutely do that!” You smile all big and pretty – Satoru will send the cooks away for a bit, just to see your cute little ass in the kitchen.

God, imagine when you’re round with his babies, you’ll be so perfect.

“Then it’s set, I’ll help you move your things tonight.”

“It’s not much,” you admit, frowning now. “Like clothes, laptop, a couple things… I can just um… bring em in my car.”

“Whatever’s easier, I’ll meet you there at five, here’s the address,” he jots it down on one of the napkins, handing it to you with his number on it.

“I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“Just consider it a Christmas gift, mmkay?” He stands now, and you eagerly get up, hugging him before you can stop yourself, feeling his hard body against yours, his heart racing in his chest underneath your cheek. His hand comes to your back.

He smirks.

Things are working perfectly.

*****

“You don’t have to do all this,” you get emotional that night, when Satoru shows up with the cutest Christmas decorations.

The first night there was him showing you around, he was so sweet when he came to you with a huge tote, covered in lights and little ornaments and even a little mini tree. He’s got this cute little santa hat perched on one side of his head, he’s changed into this soft sweater and dark jeans after work instead of the suit you usually see him in.

You’d never guess that he was bringing you little things to spy on you.

“Nonsense,” he says, setting up the little tree and giving you a devastatingly attractive smile. “A place needs a little Christmas spirit, also I have so much just sitting, really.”

You help Satoru meticulously place each ornament, shoulders brushing each other, making you heat up a bit from the nerves. The pool house is warm, there are soft cinnamon candles he had the maids bring over and light when they cleaned the place just for you today.

This shit can’t be real – maybe you’ve hit your head watching a dumb Christmas Rom Com and so happened to dream him up. He smiles over at you, his eyes a myriad of blues, flickering candles reflecting in his pupils, lighting them up and making it so intense you can hardly breathe. Both of your hands reach for the same decoration, making you pause and pull back.

He picks up a delicate, hand painted crystal decoration, holding it up just a little bit. “That’s like a Tiffany!”

“Mmm, I guess,” he shrugs, not realizing all these damn ornaments are just insanely expensive. “This one can go right here. I have a few others too. Look, this is Frosty.”

Your eyes light up so pretty when he shows you the cute plush little snowman, you take it and smile, brushing your fingers across the soft white fur. “He’s so adorable, oh my god.”

“You can put him in your room if you want,” he mentions casually. “Or we can put him on one of the shelves.”

“No way, he’s too cuddly,” you hug him tightly, smiling at Satoru then. “Ah, thank you so much!”

“You can keep him too,” you’re looking right at that little camera in the snowman’s black eyes, oblivious, working perfectly to his plan.

Imagine getting to watch you touch yourself.

He’s got another little Santa, another camera, it’s like everything lined up so perfectly – you and him.

 He walked over to a small shelf on the wall, putting that Santa right there, smiling and feeling your gaze penetrate his back. You’re sitting on the arm of the couch when he turns back around, legs crossed at the ankles, hugging on to the little snowman closely.

You’re so perfect like that.

It takes a lot to play a slow game, to make you need him, to make sure he takes his time even with you here. But not sinking to his knees and worshipping you seems almost a cruel joke – isn’t it what you deserve? Instead he walks over to you, tilting your chin up just a bit.

“How are you doing?” He asks softly.

“This morning I was crying my eyes out, sleeping on a couch, now I’m here. It feels like a dream.”

“Good dream?” You smile at that, his fingers feel too good on your skin, you almost hate it when they drop.

“Very, but I guess I am really nervous. How to pay-”

“Don’t say pay me back, please,” you bite down on your lower lip, as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, goosebumps rise from just that, your body reacting to his little ghosts of touches.

“You should get some rest, you went through a lot today.”

“Yeah, that bed looks so comfy oh my god,” he chuckles just a bit.

“You’re so cute.”

“Nah. Maybe after a good night’s rest and a good bath.”

“Well feel free to anything, I’m right over there if you need me, yeah?” You nod, he leans down and for some insane moment you wonder if he’ll kiss you, but instead he just stands and smiles. “Good night Sweetheart.”

“Night, Gojo.

He leaves quietly without another word, the front door clicking shut, you hug that little snowman tightly to you. Even after you bathe and dry your hair, you can’t help but hold on to him, peering at the phone now, you look up your ex’s socials out of a morbid curiosity – just to find him taking Christmas pictures with another girl.

You glare at that screen.

He just broke up with you, how is he in matching pajamas? Unless… unless he had her the whole time.

“Shit.” You turn off your phone, you’ve cried so much there aren’t any more tears now, just burying your face against this cute snowman Gojo gave you.

Satoru Gojo, the man who’s literally like some Christmas Miracle, just who was he, and why was he so kind?

*****

The next morning, you remember Satoru bringing up making his favorite drinks and meals, so you cross the snow-dusted lawn to the main house. It was even more beautiful in the daylight, bright and modern, so big it’s insane to think he’s all alone in there, but you suppose that’s just what he’s used to. You find the key under the mat where he’d said it would be, nervously letting yourself in.

You feel a bit like some intruder, but you’d love to surprise him as a thank you, tomorrow was Christmas Eve and you didn’t exactly have anything to give your new… landlord? Is that what he was?

What was Satoru really?

You take in the bright, ridiculously clean home and shut the door behind you, leaving the chill outside, walking towards the kitchen. That alone was a chef’s dream, all marble counters and stainless steel, he has three fucking ovens – what do you even do with three ovens.

“Holy…” You trail off a bit, taking in your surroundings, peeking around each pretty white cabinet to find coffee. You feel even more like a damn intruder, ransacking his things, but he had said ‘make yourself at home’. Oh, he said sweetheart too, as if to wreck your ovaries.

You think Satoru threw you from depression into ovulation with that little tilt of your chin last night.

You grind up expensive coffee beans you find in the pantry, the scent making you feel like you’re right back at work. Sighing at how good it smells, you get to work making him the perfect cup. Then you get hungry, and find an almost empty fridge – he has a full deep freezer of various ice cream cones and flavors but hardly any real food.

How does he keep a body like this when all you proceed to find is candy and junk food all over?

It’s almost endearing, as put together as he seems, it’s a little hint of a bachelor pad, but you do find eggs and pancake mix.

“That’ll work…” You start whipping up fluffy pancakes when he comes out, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, staring right at your pretty little ass in those leggings.

You, in his kitchen.

Making him breakfast?

He bets that loser never appreciated something this sweet, but he sure the fuck did, watching in awe almost as you whip your little arm around, the pan already sizzling with oil. 

“Well, well,” you turn and then gasp, he smiles over at you, shirtless with just soft sweats on, your eyes drift down before you stop yourself. “What do we have here, are you makin’ pancakes?”

You felt a blush heating up your cheeks – god his body was perfect, hair a little messy from his sleep, his eyes lidded with a lazy smile. “I hope you don’t mind me like… breaking in? I wanted to thank you for everything, so I thought I’d at least make you breakfast.”

He walks over to you, saunters is the word, those v cuts on his hips and that silvery happy trail fucking you up, you swallow nervously as he comes to stand right in front of you.

“Do you like pancakes?” You manage to ask, he smiles, leaning down a bit.

“I do,” he reaches down, his thumb brushing a smudge of batter from the corner of your lip, making you gasp. He brings his thumb to his own mouth, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly licks it clean, smirking at you. “Delicious.”

Fuck.

Fuck was that!?

Your breath catches in your throat, you swipe a now clean corner of your mouth where you’d tasted the chocolate chip batter, feeling that gaze ruining you. He’s so close you feel the warmth of his body, your heart hammering in your chest so violently it feels like it’ll burst out. His hand falls now, seeing the pancake turning golden in the cast iron pan.

“Oh!” You quickly flip it, exhaling in relief that it’s not burnt. “I made that coffee too for you!”

“Looks perfect,” he smiles and takes the cup, blowing on it for a moment all casual, as if that moment was something normal.

Licking his thumb making you think of the most obscene, lewd things.

“Thank you sweetheart, I could get used to this treatment,” you smile back at him, trying to act normal.

“Well I’ll gladly do it every morning, not like I wasn’t for… much less deserving people,” you grumble now, he frowns at that. “You don’t need to hear my bullshit.”

“I have a few before work,” he sips his drink and sits as you put a pancake and a bunch of syrup all over it. “God, they’re so good.”

“Oh thank you!” You sit next to him now, settling in the chair and sipping your own drink.

“No thank you,” he laps at his lower lip with a long pink tongue you just shouldn’t fucking look at really, clearing your throat with a little smile. “Did he contact you?”

He better fucking not have.

Satoru paid him off well enough.

“No, no, he’s got these fucking matching pj pics on IG, the little shit,” Satoru grimaces.

“Well that’s just shitty, I’m sorry…”

“I’m just glad I did end up leaving,” you swipe a little syrup dripping on his chin now, licking it, watching his eyes dilate. “Mmm, yum.”

Fuck. Are you trying to ruin him?

“Tomorrow I have friends coming over for Christmas Eve,” he says then, gripping your wrist now, thumb trailing the underside of it. “I’d love you to come over too.”

“Oh but won’t it be so weird?”

“Not at all, they’re kind of my family.” You blush once more, looking down. “I’m guessing yours is distant?”

“Yeah, they are…” Satoru already knows. No dad, your mom seems to have nothing to do with you, and no siblings he could find anything on.

Satoru will give you a family though, he thinks it as his gaze drifts to your stomach, smiling just a bit imagining how pretty it will be round.

“I’d love to come over.”

“Perfect.”

That night after work back in the pool house – you couldn’t sleep. The memory of his touch, of the look in his pretty blue eyes, that damn tongue licking his thumb that way? It was fucking you up in all sorts of ways, every casual touch or close proximity to Satoru was sucking your breath away, until you couldn’t even remember how you got here.

Your ex wasn’t even in your mind whatsoever, not right now, no it was just Satoru flitting through your head, images of him, feelings and touches. Tonight he made sure you ate dinner with him, in his immaculate house that just smells like him, hints of that expensive cologne, something soft and sandalwood that you can’t quite place.

That cologne is in your senses too, you can practically smell Satoru on everything somehow, even this soft weighted blanket he’s got you, the image of his shirtless frame was burned into your mind. Your cunt is wet when you think about it too long, it’s been a while since you had cum.

But here, thinking of him?

You feel so wrong doing it, but you’re already aching and needy, imagining more – his fingers inside of you, fuck they’re long. His lips… just all over your skin. That tongue…

You slip your hand beneath the waistband of your pajama bottoms, your fingers finding the slick heat of your own cunt, touching a clit already pulsing and gasping out at it. You close your eyes, imagining it was his hand, his long, thick fingers brushing your clit right now, making you jolt, the blankets slipping off of you, as you’re overheated.

You feel it, warmth spreading all over, running circles on your swollen clit and whining out, it’s not enough, eyes fluttering shut now, picturing his face hovering right over you. Hadn’t you always found Satoru devastatingly attractive? So much so you avoided looking too long at those piercing blue eyes before, always looking down quickly.

The way he looked at you.

Was it all in your imagination, was it just him and no interest in you? He probably just wanted to help, to be a kind person, give back or some shit – and you’re shoving two fingers in your own gummy walls, contracting and squishing so tight.

“Ah!” You want longer ones, that hit your spot you’re trying so hard to, palm grinding on your clit, remembering the way his tongue had swept across his thumb. “Mnh!”

You’re pumping faster now, arching your hips, your other hand gripping those sheets beneath you, soft gasp escaping your lips as you press up on that little spot in your hole, the pressure building in your tummy. You shouldn’t be thinking of his cock and how big it must be, shouldn’t be cumming to him in his own poolhouse, but you can’t stop yourself.

Satoru smirks.

You’ve been such a good girl for him, your snowman right on the dresser facing you so perfectly, as he watches you in the darkness of his home office, sitting back in his leather chair, watching the scene unfold. On one of his three monitors, you were displayed in high definition, lying on the bed with your legs spread wide, so he had a perfect view.

“That’s it,” he coaches you quietly, undoing his sweats with a tug at the draw string, revealing his leaky cock that slaps his soft black shirt. “Got me leakin’ already, baby, fuck.”

He tugs up that shirt, letting his cock instead rest on his abdomen, moaning softly as his huge hand encircles his cock, stroking up and down carefully, his head falling back for a moment. God, imagine your little hand trying to cover him? Your mouth, the one crying out so wanton and lewd, full of him?

He’d fuck your throat so good your voice wouldn’t work.

He leans back forward, blinking you into view, watching as your back arches, your pathetic little fingers working between your legs. He knows you need him, it’s so hard not to give you it yet, listening to your whimpers, your little soft, desperate pants, clearly having a hard time making yourself cum.

“I’ll help you soon, pretty,” he whispers, his own hand stroking himself in time with the rhythm of your hand, matching it and exhaling, spitting right on his reddened tip. “What you do to me.”

Should he feel bad, watching you? No, you’re his after all, and he wants to know what you like when he does touch you, pay attention to your clearly needy little clit, how your thighs clamp down. He’ll make sure to keep them spread, keep you folded in half, it’s all he can think as he bucks up into his hand, smeared with spit and precum, the snow falling against the office window in the dark.

His pretty, perfect Christmas gift, just waiting to be unwrapped all for him. “Good girl,” he murmurs to the screen softly, voice breaking in the middle, veins just pulsing as he pumps more precum. “Prepping my gift f’me.”

Satoru hungrily watches you hit your peak, hips bucking up into your little hand, head sinking into the pillows as you moan.

His name.

Fuck you’re moaning his name.

He strokes himself faster, whispering yours as he cums ropes down his hand, messy streaks that run warm, picturing pumping it all inside of that hole you’re slipping your fingers out of. You’re softly moaning, shaking just a bit, your clean hand brushing your own hair back, covering your cute little face.

He bets it’s warm to the touch, in the prettiest blush.

Satoru exhales and cleans up, his eyes never leaving the screen, especially when you stand up and lean to look at yourself in the mirror, he’s already sensitive from cumming, but he’s pulsing and throbbing watching you. Leaned over and fixing now messy hair, looking all flushed and embarrassed.

“Don’t be,” he chuckles and touches the cool screen, right where your face is, as you pick up the snowman and his show is over. He keeps you on though, since he can hear your gentle breathing as you sleep. “Soon, sweetheart.”

*****

Satoru’s friends are amazing, but you can’t stop the awkwardness, the feeling of knowing you came screaming his name was overwhelming. You don’t even know how to fucking face him in the morning, when your dumb ass car won’t start.

“I swear it was fine…”

“I got you on a ride, don’t worry,” you’d ended up next to him in that sleek sports car, horribly embarrassed.

“I don’t wanna depend so much on you, already you’re doing too much,” his hand had come to your thigh as you both sat in front of that coffee shop, leaning low and looking at you behind his dark circle shades.

Too close, he’s too close.

His fingers are near your slick warmth, trickling down your inner thigh from how close he is, how his fingers press higher, squeezing your thigh so tightly it squishes in his grip. You’re trembling, so nervous then, wondering if you’re brave enough to lean forward, to kiss him.

But he’s gone as soon as he’s there, leaned back now, smiling. “Don’t worry your pretty head about that, we’ll fix that car soon. Probably after Christmas though.”

“I feel I’m putting you out.”

“Not at all,” you had sighed then.

“You’re too sweet to me, you really are.” He had just smirked at you, this look that sent an ache through you, as close as he is you can almost taste the sweetness on his breath, as it ghosts on your lips.

You can hardly breathe in that car, the heat blaring, Gojo so close.

“Sweet, hmm? Maybe I’m not as sweet as you think,” you’d just giggled at that, shaking your head.

You have no clue he unhooked your alternator, you’re so cute.

He’d of course had to pick you up too, the more you need him, the better.

It’s Christmas eve of course, Satoru makes sure to get you the perfect gift, a pretty necklace he can’t wait to tug and choke you with as he fucks you from the back – the chain is more than thick enough, just begging for your neck. He bought you a dress that you’re now wearing, looking so pretty in it he can hardly stand it, sitting there and talking to his friends.

You fit right in, but why wouldn’t you? It’s clear to all of them that Satoru is obsessed, they know their friend and when he’s in love he’s in love, hopeless and desperate, but even they’ve never seen him like this. He can’t take his eyes hardly off you, even when he’s laughing, when they’re all reminiscing, it’s like his gaze follows you across the room.

Everyone can practically feel how badly Satoru wants you – except you, of course, oblivious and cute, just enjoying the company, feeling so homey.

Shoko is hilarious, Nanami has this dry humor, Suguru is the yin to Satoru’s yang, like the exact opposite of him, but they fit so well. Seeing them on such a night makes you feel far too much like you’re at home, and not just staying in Satoru’s pool house for a time.

It feels too good, so good you get up to give them time alone, when he quickly stops you, a hand on your wrist, leaning low.

“Sweetheart, where are you going?” He asks quietly, possessive in how he holds your wrist, looking down your pretty neck.

God he can’t wait to tie you up, choke you until you can’t breathe, fuck you until it’s just all him.

“I want to give you time, I’ve already intruded so much,” you look down and fidget a bit with one of the buttons of his dress shirt, he tenses, tightening his hold. “You’ve been amazing to me, but I don’t want to take over your time.”

“I invited you,” he exhales now, stepping too close, leaning low. “You wanna go be alone tonight?”

“Um…” you blink tears suddenly.

Alone, you’re alone there, and here you’re with someone you want far too much, you’re far too comfortable, as if your ex meant fucking nothing the moment Gojo smiled at you. Part of you should feel bad, another part wants to sink to your knees and show him how much you appreciate him, that thought spreading to your core, with hot need.

How much would you have to touch yourself to even be okay? It’s like every moment near Satoru Gojo makes it worse.

“I got a gift for you,” you gasp. “It’s nothing really, but I want you to wait for gifts so I can give it. Please?”

“Of course,” you smile tremulously then. “Um, I also got you something, but it’s really not much of anything.”

“Please, anything you get me is perfect,” he kisses your temple, his lips lingering, your lashes flutter shut, leaning forward.

Too perfect in his arms.

You just are, he can practically smell how turned on you are for him, he wonders what panties you’re wearing underneath this pretty red dress he got you – were they soaked already? God he’d drink your cunt from them, bury his face, his hands lingering on your hips too long, lips still sitting there, the two of you breathless for a moment.

He wants to reassure you, but you just need to be a little needier, so he spends the next couple hours completely normal, waiting for his friends to leave, hugging them all good bye. You come help clean up, quiet and easy next to him, your gift sitting unopened still.

“You don’t have to clean, the maids will, sweets.”

“Still! No need to leave them much,” you start rinsing plates, when he comes behind you, turning off the water, hard body pressing against the curve of your spine.

You whimper.

Fuck, fuck.

He halts just a bit, you don’t see his satisfied fucking smile, as the snow starts whirling and the fire is crackling in the living room, like you’re in this perfect cozy nook of Satoru’s world. You bite your lip, hating the sound that came out of your mouth suddenly, looking back at him, hands still dripping wet from water.

“I’m so fucking sorry, um… wine and… been a bit? And you’re very…”

“Shh,” he cups your face, wrapping and arm around you, hand splaying your stomach, warm as it presses, and you can’t stop the next soft cry. “Oh yeah? Just been a while, that’s why you’re like this?”

“I… um…” His hand slips lower, cupping you over the red silk, your head falls back now against his chest, body arching.

“Are you tellin’ the truth, sweets? That’s why you’re so hot here, burning my fucking hand? A long time? Did he not make you cum, baby?” His voice isn’t the sweet one from the coffee shop, it’s darker now, his eyes black when you look back at them, a smirk on his lips.

You’re pulsing around air, aching for him, lost for words.

“I asked ya a question,” his hand starts to slide up that material soft against the creamy skin on your thighs. “Answer me, sweets. Be good f’me.”

“God…” you’re arching for more, feeling a thick, heavy length press on your lower back now. “I um… no, that’s not all.”

“Then what is it, why are you so wet? Hmm?” You bite down on a trembling lip, overwhelmed by the tall, buff white haired man toying with you, lost in his dark eyes and plush pink lips, parted, baring just a hint of sharp teeth.

“I’m wet for you, Gojo,” he moans then, slipping the material even higher, you’re so overheated from his body and the fire you feel beads of sweat trailing across your collarbone. “For you.”

“Satoru,” he corrects, his cock leaking and sticking to his boxers, so ready to bury himself inside you. “Say my name.”

“Satoru.”

He captures your lips as soon as you say it, mouth crashing down on yours brutally. It’s not the gentle, sweet kiss you might have expected from his lingering one on your temple, it’s not gentle, no – it’s hungry, devouring you, tongue plunging between the seam of your lips, taking you over.

You helplessly open for him, as if mentally you can fucking hear his voice murmuring ‘good girl’. The soft sounds of that christmas music are mixing with the fire, the heavy wind, his soft husky breaths, you’re so far gone you could cum from a kiss and your cunt exposed to the warm air as he tugs that dress high.

His other hand moves from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair and just tugging until it hurts, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding into the warm recesses of your mouth, drinking you. That’s what it is, he’s drinking you up, owning you, you’re desperately meeting his kiss, pressing your little tongue against his, whining out into his mouth.

He pulls back for a moment, a string of saliva just dissolving between you both, you’re shaking in his hold, lingering on his lips like wine, so perfect and sweet. Your eyes are already fucked out, a hand gripping his wrist where he’s so close to slipping his fingers in.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” you gasp then, eyes shooting up to him in shock. “You don’t even know, do you? Oblivious, my sweet girl, but don’t worry, you won’t need to think.”

“I w-won’t?” You’re so cute to him then, he smirks just a bit, caressing your jaw delicately.

“Not at all, not when you’re all mine sweetheart, just let me fuck you until you forget everything.”

He should be concerning, right? The shit he’s saying, but you don’t want to think anymore, you want him to take over, to take all the pain and loneliness, and pump you all full of him instead. It’s insanity, the way you trust this man you barely know, how you want him inside you, on you, everywhere.

“Say the word and I’ll fuck every thought from that pretty head, you’ll just be my perfect fuck toy, won’t you?”

God, are you really gonna say yes?

You nod, lips parted then, as he smiles, kissing you once more, messy and desperate. “You sure?”

“I want to be.”

“Good, good girl,” you melt against him at that, the plates forgotten in the sink when he turns you to him, your hands coming up to grip the front of his shirt, as he presses you against that counter. “So long baby.”

“So long, what do you-”

“Shh, no thinking,” he’s kissing down your neck, hands gripping your ass, sighing as his thigh presses between yours, soaking wet. “I’ve been wondering all night, if those pretty little panties are already ruined for me. What do you think, sweetheart? Should I check?”

A whimper escapes your throat, so nervous suddenly, you’re literally stuck to your panties, slipped up puffy folds with how wet you are. You nod quickly in a jerky little motion, unable to form words as he kisses down the side of your neck, your cunt pulsing even more wetness out.

“You’re too precious, can’t talk already? I haven’t even touched you yet,” he whispers those words in your ear, fingers finally finding ruined lace, and that’s when he can hardly hold back anymore.

“Mnh! Satoru…”

“God, you sayin’ my name like that,” he groans, pressing up, his snowy lashes fluttering shut as he toys with your sticky panties, making you moan softly. “Soaked. All f’me, aren’t you?”

You nod again, sucking in a breath as he pulls back to look into your eyes, tugging a thigh over his hip, a thick finger directly over your clit, rubbing it in mean little circles over the thin fabric. You almost cum from that you’re so sensitive and needy, crying out and arching for more, head falling back.

“Eyes on me,” you manage to focus when he grips your chin, pressing that cotton even more flush against you, you’re desperately shaking for more. “That’s it, look at me, pretty girl. All your attention. Me.”

He keeps fucking whispering it as he touches you, until the ruined panties are nothing but this thin, messy barrier you want gone, slipping his fingers over them almost in you instead of moving them. Torturing and teasing until you cry out, your hips bucking up against his hand.

“Please, Satoru…”

“All this time, you’ve been sitting there with my friends, smiling and laughing, while this pretty little cunt was just aching to be touched. Weren’t you, huh? Slutty pussy, god…”

“Y-yes,” that’s all you manage to get out, he’s too much, but he’s also edging you, teasing you, the friction of that damp lace now cool against your needy, puffy little clit, that’s just twitching for him. “Satoru…”

“What do you need, baby?” He murmurs, pulling your panties to the side, slipping two fingers down your slit. “This?”

“More, fuck… please, more,” you have no sense of shame or embarrassment, grinding on him shameless, he pulls back those fingers, leaving your thighs shaking. “Satoru…”

“Mmm,” his fingers are soaking wet and glossy, he puts two to his mouth and sucks, the motion filthy as his mouth wraps it, smirking. “If we do this, you’re all mine sweetheart.”

“But you… don’t even know me? And…” He’s slipping your juices in your mouth now, fingers coated in your cunt and his spit, you moan.

“Suck,” you obediently do, his eyes are black then, a feral look on his pretty face, watching you bob your head. “You’re mine. Just mine.”

You barely know what the fuck happens, or how you end up tied up with a string of pretty white christmas lights, Satoru’s insane ass grin as he ropes your arms shibari style, pushing your tits out as he ropes them. He’s hungrily sucking on your perky nipples, moaning on each one, you’re on all fours on this soft rug in front of the fireplace, lit up for him.

“God, that’s perfect,” he murmurs when he’s done, and your ass is in the air, pussy soaked and dripping, your ripped panties next to that pretty dress tossed aside on the floor. “Cunt is soaked, she needs me, hmm?”

“Please,” you should be scared, ask yourself why you’re tied up with Christmas lights on Satoru Gojo’s floor, but when you see his body, his thick, girthy cock leaking pre, you instead eagerly suck on your knees.

“That’s it, such a good girl, god I knew it,” he whispers desperately, cock heavy and hot in your mouth, the tip leaking pre against your uvula. Spit is drippin down his heavy balls, making it a mess, glossy with your spit as he rocks his hips, tugging at your hair. “Throat is only gonna know my shape, just mine, hmm?”

Your answer is a moan around his cock, pussy so needy and empty you’re dying for him inside, but you also desperately want to please him. Every fuck into your tight throat, every stretch and burn has you soaking wet, dripping down your slit onto that very rug beneath you, gasping for a breath as he shoves his cock as deep as you can even take it.

Satoru’s lost in how pretty you look like this, arms bound and lit up, his perfect Christmas gift that he can’t wait to fill up.

“Suckin’ me s’good, f-fuck…” He’s whimpering then, the sound shooting straight to your core, fucking your throat faster, pulling your hair until mascara trails down your cheeks with your tears. “I’ll give you anything, baby, yeah? Anything.”

You’re drooling when he pulls back, tilting your chin up to spit in your open mouth, you swallow so good, tasting saliva and pre, when he turns you to face the fireplace, pressing you down between your shoulder blades. He slides two fingers deep in your hole, you’re wriggling around, clenching him so tight, making his cock leak more pre, moaning.

“So tight,” he whispers in wonder, he wants to give you more prep but he can’t handle another moment without your cunt milking him. He bends down, pulling your ass up and licking a strip from your clit to your ass. “Mmm, the taste.”

“Satoru! Mnh!” The way his huge tongue just licks you clean, filthy stripes that are for his pleasure, messy and not hitting your spots, just scooping in as his moans vibrate, and his hands grip your ass bruisingly. “Please, please. In me…”

“Mmm, one more,” he can’t help but drink just a little more of your juices, they’re dripping in rivulets down his chin, he grins as you’re twitching, spreading your cute hole to spit in it. “Arch f’me.”

You eagerly do, the green cord digging into your thighs, when Satoru lines up his leaky pink tip and finally fucks you. But he doesn’t inch in, no he bottoms the fuck out in one mean stroke. You’re gasping out, desperately clutching the fur underneath you, so full you can’t take it, belly bulging and making the lights press in even more painfully than before.

Deep, punishing strokes that wreck your cunt, gliding easier and easier with the mess you are becoming, the slickness and your trembling walls accommodating his size. Every bit of pain just makes the filthy pleasure even better, the sounds of his moans, the smacking of skin, your squelching cunt all echoing in your ears.

He shoves so deep you scream then, so deep you feel him everywhere, in your tummy, fuck in your throat, gasping for air.

“Satoru, so much! Too much!” You’re shaking, he’s laughing softly, breath caught when you clamp down on him, looking at how huge his cock is compared to your tiny little pussy as he pulls back.

“God, look at that,” he watches that stream of slick pour down his cock as he pulls out then pushes back in, watching her stretch around him. “So much bigger than you, aww, she can hardly even take him.”

He’s dying over the size difference, the way your little hole is trying its best, the way his huge hand takes over your ass when it smacks down, the huge handprints spreading to your thighs. He’s not gentle, no, he’s fucking you like he wants to make sure you never leave, never even think of anything again.

“That’s it, takin’ my cock like you’re made for it,” he whispers, fucking you harder and harder, you’re gasping desperately, so full, his balls smacking your needy, twitchy clit with filthy fwaps, as you drip everywhere. “Makin’ a mess of that rug, hah, oh sweetheart you need me, huh?”

“N-need you – nghhh!” You’re done when he loses his control, bruising grip, fucking you senseless, strokes so messy.

“Gonna stuff you so full of white,” he chuckles, psychotic blue eyes glinting, prone over you, making everything dig in and leave its mark, cupping your face and looking down at you. “Aww, you want that? My Christmas present. My perfect fucking present. Mine.”

He keeps repeating it – mine, mine, mine – cock pulsing and thickening, pressing into your cervix, sending you over the edge, blinded when that orgasm rips through you. Your cunt clamps down on him so tight, pulsing and milking him for all the white he’s promising, earning his groan, his tensing.

“Gonna fill you up, next Christmas you’ll have all my babies,” you really should be scared, confused, but you’re still reeling from it, his hips slamming into you, railing your cunt until it is all his. “You want it, don’t you? Say it baby, please.”

“W-want it… ah!”

“Fuck, m’gonna give you so much, all you deserve sweetheart, all for you,” you feel him pulse inside you when he slams in to the hilt, hips snug on your ass now, a hot, thick flood of his white cum filling you up. “That’s it, take all of it, s’all yours.”

Satoru’s barely able to hold himself up when he busts inside you, coating your quivering walls, it’s so much it starts to leak out around his cock, mixing with your own slick and dripping down your thighs. He pumps a few more times, shakily taking breaths, hands holding you tightly, moans escaping.

“Took so much, god you’re perfect,” he whispers, pulling out to watch that creamy mix push out of your abused hole. “God you’re so good.”

The lights left their mark, but he’s massaging your skin after, cleans you up with his tongue, kisses every mark the lights left. He’s got you in his bed when Christmas strikes, smiling as you snore soundly against his chest, you’re wearing one of his shirts that swallows you, his cum still dripping from your pretty pussy.

He can’t wait until next year, when you’ll have your first baby for him, and he’ll already have another put in you next Christmas. You wake up sometime in the night, looking at him, blinking a bit.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Go back to sleep.”

“Merry Christmas, Satoru,” you whisper, snug in his arms, wondering just what luck you have to be there.

Was it luck, some Christmas miracle? Or was it Satoru Gojo making sure he got his perfect gift?