zen

As the days of the new semester grew, you got more and more curious about the cute nerd in your Biology 101 class. He had a scar on his lips, raven hair, and these adorable glasses that definitely didn’t fit. You’ve only heard him speak a few times. He only ever spoke in class when he was called on, and when he was, he answered correctly, exuding confidence. The professor constantly applauded him for his work and even asked him to help out during her office hours. You considered showing up just out of pure curiosity, but decided against it. You didn’t want to stare at him like an obsessive loser. But an opportunity to talk to him fell on your lap on a random Tuesday afternoon.

During the third week of class, your professor announced something: everyone would sit alphabetically in the class for the next few days as she got used to everyone's names. This earned a few groans from the people who wanted to sit next to their friends, but she assured them it would be temporary.

“Everyone, everyone,” the room quieted down at her voice, “It won’t last too long. We just have one lab to complete then I should have everyone’s names down a few days after that. I’ve been struggling these past two weeks.” She looked down at her clipboard and moved to the first pair of chairs. “Now, let's start. Does anyone know if…” She called names one by one to show them their temporary seats. You didn’t know anyone in the class to begin with so you weren’t too bothered. Though, you’ve never heard of a college class that had a seating chart. That was definitely a first. And by the sounds of it, no one else had either. How bad could her memory be?

Lost in thought, you didn’t even realize when she called your name to be seated next. You blinked in confusion before realizing that she was assigning you to a seat. You mumbled an apology under your breath before sitting down. You exhaled, slightly embarrassed at your delayed reaction. Zoning out at the worst times seemed to be your strong suit. As you pulled out your textbook, you didn’t listen to hear who would be your shoulder partner. You looked up to see Toji, aka the guy you’ve been staring at for two weeks from across the room instead of paying attention to lecture, sitting right beside you. You quickly averted your gaze to recover from your shock. It was pure luck really, getting to sit next to him for the next few days, even if it was by force. He gave you a small nod of acknowledgement and you gave him an awkward smile back before quickly turning your head away.  Smooth, you thought to yourself, now he’ll think you’re creepy. Professor Nolan finished up the seating chart and brought up the upcoming lab.

“Our first lab will be tomorrow, and yes, your partner is who you’re sitting next to. It’s simple and it’s on everything we’ve covered this past week and a half. I’ll pass out the procedure.” She grabbed a stack of papers and started to give a small stack to each column. She handed Toji a stack and he handed you a packet. His hand brushed yours slightly, and your stomach lurched. His face remained neutral and he turned around to hand the rest of the lab procedures to the students behind you. You spent the rest of the lecture silently scolding yourself for getting so delusional over a guy that you didn’t know. The walk back to your car was one of shame. You hated how excited you got over things, especially since you got disappointed just as quickly. Sure, he was cute, but at the end of the day, he was just a guy. You reminded yourself of this and pushed it out of your mind. Tomorrow, you’d just focus on the first lab of the class. There was no need for unnecessary distractions.

You had spoken too soon. There was a need for distractions. They were very, very necessary. Especially if it entailed your cute lab partner walking you through the lab.

“You left your lab procedure on the desk. I tried to call after you, but you didn’t turn back.” He explained with a shrug. “No worries though, if you get stuck, I can try my best to explain it to you.”

You nodded, embarrassment creeping in. No way you were idiotic enough to leave your lab procedure behind. What a horrible first impression. “I’m so sorry, I’m not usually like this I—”

He shook his head and handed the packet to you. “No need to worry, I got you.” 

You nodded again, shutting up this time. Your eyes scanned the page, taking in what you had missed the previous night. It seemed simple enough, but it was your first lab. It had already started off on not the best foot… you couldn’t mess up again. A wave of determination washed over you. If he wasn’t bothered by your small slip up, why should you? The two of you prepared your station in silence before starting. It was a human cheek microscopic lab where you scrape the inside of your cheek, smear the swab onto a glass slide, add a drop of methylene blue stain, and cover it with a slip. You then observe under the microscope and take note of the structures. Simple stuff, really. The only annoying part was extracting the sample.

The two of you got to work immediately. You scraped your cheek with the toothpick, and in the process, poked it. You yelped and pressed your tongue against the spot. A metallic taste soaked your tongue and you groaned softly. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You were usually great at labs, always taking them on with intense focus. An easy one like this shouldn’t be tripping you up, but here you were. You shot a glance at Toji and found him laughing quietly to himself. You glared at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Not funny,” you mumbled, tongue still applying pressure to the area you accidentally punctured. 

His grin grew even wider. “I dunno…it kind of is…How does one even achieve that?” He pressed his lips together to stop himself from laughing again. Your frown deepened at his reaction. He was actually laughing in your face. This was another level of obnoxious, this was plain mean. You went silent throughout the smearing and staining process, ego a little wounded at his blatant taunting. You didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or annoyed. You went with being annoyed; he said he’d help you out, not make fun of you.

When it was time to observe under the microscope, you let him go first. You watched him closely, the different expressions he’d make, the notes he’d take, and the small sounds of content he’d let out. You found it all amusing. He acted all mysterious, but the whole time, he was really just a weirdo that got very pleased when things went as he predicted. His drawings were so accurate, it was scary. He moved away from the microscope and gave you a cocky smile. There was no way you were beating that. Not that it was a competition or anything. You snuck a glance at him. He was watching you carefully. Maybe it was a competition and you didn’t know it. You swallowed hard before adjusting the settings as needed. The cells looked cool: their irregular shapes were highlighted with a vibrant blue from the stain. You zoomed in more to be able to see the cell structures better. From there, you could start to sketch your observations. You grabbed your pencil and lightly glided your pencil across the paper, careful to write lightly enough so you could correct any mistakes. You fell into a comfortable rhythm, looking into the microscope, and pulling away to add to your paper. You felt Toji watching you like a hawk from the side, but you still took your time. Within a few minutes, you were done with your sketches. You checked your work and grinned. Not too bad.

You felt someone shift behind you. You looked over your shoulder and found Toji there, sneaking a peek at your paper. He had a bored expression on his face and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be perfect, it was a sketch after all. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Huh?”

“I said, ‘not bad.’” He repeated before grabbing his notebook and walking off to start cleanup. You furrowed your brows in confusion. He was being nice again? What happened to being obnoxious and annoying? You scoffed and joined him. The two of you cleaned up your station and went your separate ways. You took the long way to your car, still in need of processing that entire lab period. The reassurance in the beginning, laughing at you making a small mistake, and giving you a half assed compliment to top it all off. You decided he was too cocky for his own good. He knew he was smart, he knew that he was better, and he let it get to his head. Sort of. He was still somewhat nice. Whatever it was, you only had to deal with him for a few more days. The first and only lab was out of the way. In retrospect, the worst had already passed.

Your stomach rumbled and you stopped in your tracks. After fumbling around in your bag, you realized you forgot to pack lunch today. You muttered curses under your breath as you turned around and headed to the college cafe. You weren’t this scatterbrained. Before today, you can’t remember the last time you forgot anything, especially of great importance like your lunch or schoolwork.

You walked into the cafe and went to the counter to order your usual: a grilled cheese sandwich with sourdough bread and the juice of the day. Today’s juice of the day was mango, Paige, the barista informed you. You paid and looked for a place to sit. The cafe was pretty much empty except for a few students on their computers. One person in the corner caught your eye though. You could recognize those scarred lips anywhere. His eyes locked with yours and you froze, quickly looking away. You snuck another glance and he was still staring. He raised an eyebrow at you and gestured for you to join him. You pressed your lips in a firm line before slowly walking over. Dropping your bag on the ground, you took the seat across from him. You felt his eyes studying you carefully again like they had less than an hour ago, making your stomach twist in knots. Trying to figure him out made your head spin. Never in a million years would you have expected him to invite you over to sit with him…it just didn't work like that. At least, not in your head anyway.

“You’re everywhere,” he said simply, taking a sip of his drink. “Oh, by the way, it’s good. Fresh and all.”

You shot him a bewildered look. “What?”

He pointed to his drink with a slightly annoyed look on his face. “The juice of the day? That’s the drink you ordered, no?”

You blinked at him, his words barely processing in your head. How long had he been watching you for? You just noticed that he was here. You frowned and nodded slowly. “Yeah,” you responded flatly. You didn’t mean to be rude, but he was getting on your last nerves. That's what you got for putting a stranger on a pedestal, they’ll always end up not meeting your unrealistic expectations and disappointing you.

He sighed, deep green eyes boring into yours. “You know, for someone who stared at me for two weeks straight without saying a word, you sure don’t have a lot to say now that we’ve actually met.” Toji chuckled as you gaped at him, taking another sip of his juice. “But hey, to each their own.”

You were speechless. The entire first week, he was at one end of the room and you were in the opposite, in a corner at that. Same for the second. How he knew you’d look at him, you had no idea. His back was to you 99% of the time too…was he bluffing? No, that was way too specific and accurate to be a bluff. Maybe you weren't as subtle as you thought.

The barista called your name for your order and you shot up from your seat. You took your sweet time: making small talk with her again, checking to see if it was your name on it, if you got the right sandwich, and sipping your juice to see how it tasted. He was right—it was fresh, the tangy taste dancing on your tongue. You needed a second to mentally prepare yourself. Facing him after him confronting you and your staring problem made you want to puke. What do you even say to that? Do you just gaslight him until he believes you? You doubt he would though, he was way too arrogant to give you the benefit of the doubt or even just to let it go and move on. You slowly made your way back to your seat. He looked at you expectantly as you took another sip of your juice.

“It’s good, you were right.” You muttered, not meeting his eyes.

“I know,” he shrugged. You didn’t like this, not one bit. He was nothing like you had expected at all. Sure, it was counterproductive to fit people into boxes based on their appearances, but you've never met anyone that carried themselves like this. Though you hated to admit it, you were intrigued. Why did he call you over here? You were classmates, he had no obligation to invite you to sit with him. And you still didn’t know how he knew you would stare at him the first few weeks…

“You were staring at me too, weren’t you?” you blurted out. For the first time ever, Toji was stunned. He didn’t know how to respond to the question—or, better yet—the right answer to it. You watched as he struggled to approach your question. You could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“What makes you think that?” He finally decided on. Safe, yes, but playing dumb wasn’t always reliable.

“How else would you know I was staring at you?” You replied. Not your strongest point, you admit, but it was what was at the front of your mind. 

“Well, for starters, you aren’t the most subtle person to grace this Earth,” he shot back. You narrowed your eyes at his deflection, but this only proved you were getting warmer.

“Aw, are you saying that my presence makes the Earth a better place ‘ji?” You asked sweetly, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me?” Your tone was so condescending you swore you saw his eye twitch.

“Don’t call me that,” he grumped. You giggled at his frustration and took a sip of your drink.

“Mmmmm,” you groaned dramatically. He glared at you from above his glasses. “Is this why you asked me to sit with you?” You stirred your juice with your straw, the ice cubes clinking together. His eyes followed the movement. Would he take the bait?

“...What do you mean?” He asked reluctantly. You could practically feel his discomfort. It loomed over his head, forcing him to engage in your shenanigans. It killed him to entertain your antics, but he couldn’t bear not knowing what you were going on about.  

“You heard I ordered the same drink as you, so you called me over to sit with you.” You replied. Obviously, that’s not what you believed, but you had to point out how ridiculous all this was. All this game playing, and for what?

“No, of course not. Don't be stupid.” He said with a scowl, mouth turning into a frown, like just the idea alone personally offended him.

“So you have been staring at me too then? I didn’t even notice you were here until I was looking for a place to sit,” you challenged. You were regaining confidence now, determined to pull this confession out of him. He wasn’t going to get out of this. You felt like you were going crazy before, you were glad to know you weren’t alone.

“Does it even matter?” He sighed, failing to meet your eyes.

“Yes,” you insisted.

“Why?” He countered.

“Because.”

“Because?”

“Answer the damn question. Then I can tell you why it matters,” you hissed. You took a bite of your sandwich as he hesitated. You ate in silence, waiting for him to figure out what he was going to say. The sandwich was half gone and the glass of fresh mango juice completely empty by the time he finally cleared his throat.

“To put it simply, yes I was staring—when you weren't looking at least. That’s why I invited you to sit here. But—” He raised his hands up in surrender. “I swear I had nothing to do with us sitting together. That was pure luck.”

You laughed at how terrified he was. Like he actually believed you thought he blackmailed your strict professor or something to get you guys to sit together. This was ridiculous. You laughed over the stupidity of it all and he tilted his head at you in confusion.

“Well duh, I know that. It’s not like you built a time machine and changed my last name to be right next to yours on the roster.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Okay good. I’m not a creep. It was just a coincidence. So was the cafe, I assume?” He asked, now putting you on the spot. “Or are you stalking me?”

It was now your turn to be stunned into silence. You really hoped he was joking. “Give me the same grace. It was a coincidence. I was hungry, so I stopped here for a quick bite to eat. If you hadn’t called me over, I’d have left by now.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, smirking at your bewildered state. Reality finally crashed down on you—you guys have been playing eye tag this whole time, but you kept missing each other. Even though he got on your nerves—slightly—this was the best case scenario. You were both losers with a staring problem.

“So what now?” you asked before you could stop yourself. You regretted it immediately, especially as you watched his curiosity pique. He was either going to tease you beyond belief, or be completely honest with you like he had before. It was a gamble you weren’t sure you were ready to take, but it was too late. He studied the grimace on your face and nodded.

“I mean—based on this conversation, it’s safe to say there’s a mutual interest here so…I think it would be appropriate to ask you out.”

You blinked at him. Did he just ask you out without asking you? He winced at your unamused expression and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Er, sorry, I mean…would you like to go out with me sometime?”

“We’re technically out together right now if you really think about it,” you replied, pressing your lips together to suppress the smile creeping on your face. You weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily. Who did you take you for?

“Well no shit, but like another time if you wa—”

“I’m just messing with you. Of course I would like that.”

He stopped his rambling and smiled at you, really smiled at you. It reached his eyes and you decided right then and there, you wanted to be on the receiving end of more smiles from this man. God knows they were scarce, but when they did come out, they made your heartbeat pound like a drum in your ears and caused butterflies to fill your stomach. You knew immediately that they didn’t show up for just anyone, and that alone confirmed any suspicion you had about him liking you too. 

“Hey, you never explained why it mattered so much,” he said suddenly. Your eyes locked with him and you swore time stopped. The noise of the cafe faded in the background as the two of you held each other’s gaze. Blood rushed to your cheeks, the intensity of his gaze being too much. You were the one to break eye contact, twisting your hands in your lap nervously.

“Because,” you said pointedly, but there was no real bite in your voice. “The feeling’s mutual.”

There it was again. Another one of his rare smiles. Your eyes landed on his scar and you instinctively reached forward. He didn’t flinch or move away. He stilled as you traced it, fingertips ghosting over his skin.

“How did you get this?” You murmured softly. He avoided eye contact and grabbed your wrist gently. 

“That’s a story for another time.” He said firmly, though, he didn’t remove your hand. “I’ll tell it to you though, I promise.” He swallowed hard and held your gaze. In the quiet of your own little bubble, you whispered to him softly, things only for his ears. The rest of the world faded away as the two of yours started to grow and blossom.

Your first real date was as soon as later that week after class. He walked you to your car and sent you an ominous text once you got home.

toji: I’ll pick you up at 4pm.

toji: It’ll be a little cold inside, so wear long sleeves.

toji: And pants.

You snorted at that text. Did he expect you to pull up half naked?

toji: As in long pants. Of course you’ll wear pants. Duh. 

toji: Don’t laugh, you know what I mean. Shut up, stop laughing at me.

You laughed even harder. Underneath all of his cockiness and arrogance, Toji was really just a huge dork and it only came out in moments like these. Whenever you’d point it out, he’d get all grumpy and insist he’s not a dork—but if he was—that they are over hated. You always countered and said that that’s something a dork would say.

At 4pm at the dot, he picked you up in his white sedan. The inside of his car was very tidy. You wondered if it was always like this, or if he cleaned it up just because you’d be in it. You imagined a timid Toji, scrambling to make his car look presentable for a first date. The thought made you smile to yourself. Dork.

“What’re you smiling about? Like my car?” He asked, his tone a little hopeful. You were no expert on cars, but despite being very beat up on the outside, it looked nice. It was obvious he took good care of it. “Yes, I do,” you admitted. “It’s quite nice.”

“Thanks. I know,” he grinned at you, knowing that would piss you off. You poked his cheek and he pouted before putting the car in drive.

“So where is this mysterious location?” You asked casually. You were staring out the window, trying to make sense of where you were headed. It was the general direction of town, which only narrowed down the options slightly. He could be taking you anywhere from a fancy restaurant to Dick’s Sporting Goods. You hoped it wasn’t the latter, you didn’t pursue jocks for a reason…

“It’s a surprise. And if you nag me about it, I’ll just give you hints that are misleading.” He chuckled to himself, sneaking a glance at you. He was met with you glowering at him. Even after giving you basically nothing to work with in picking an outfit, he had the audacity to keep his lips sealed. You hated to admit it, but it was cute. The effort he was putting in was adorable and pushed your #TojiIsADork agenda even further.

Finding out on your own instead of being fed fabricated information sounded more appealing, so you shut up. Ten minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of an unfamiliar building. It was huge, you stared at the building in awe and Toji smiled, “It’s the new science museum. They have this one biology exhibit, I thought maybe we’d check it out?” He looked at you for approval, and that’s when you realized. He was nervous. The cocky guy you met was nowhere to be found. Instead, a slightly self conscious one stood before you. He kept stuffing his hands in his back pockets and removing them and you swore you saw him wipe his palms on his jeans. Interesting. 

“This was thoughtful,” you said. His mood immediately posted at your praise, lips curving into a smile and even more confidence in his walk. He held open the door for you with a wink. “Ladies first.”

“Cornball,” you rolled your eyes, but slipped past him anyway. The guy at the front desk smiled as you walked up together. 

“Tickets for two?”

Toji nodded and pushed up his glasses. “Does that include the new exhibit?”

“Yes it does.” He typed away on his computer. “That’ll be $19.18”

Toji fumbled for his wallet before handing over a $20 bill. He waved his hand for no change. The tickets printed out of a small machine and the worker handed them to you. “Enjoy!” 

“Thank you,” Toji replied and the two of you entered the exhibit. 

You had no idea such a cool place was in your city, and just right around the corner too. They had everything you could think of: dinosaur skeletons, glass cases with insects, human evolution halls, a whole planetarium, and so much more. You took it all in, glancing back at Toji to see how he reacted. He didn’t look nearly as impressed as you.

“I’ve been here so many times before already," he quickly explained.

“Oh, that makes sense.” You turned back to the exhibit and read the fun facts. After you exhausted every corner of the last exhibit, you headed for the one he was talking about.

It was centered around microbiology. The exhibit walked you through the different structures and explained their functions. Some of the things rang a bell and others didn’t. Either way, it was pretty cool to take what you’ve learned in class and apply it. 

“This is way more in depth than what we’ve gone over in class, or in our lab together, but I wanted to show you since you seemed super intrigued in the lesson.” He explained. “Other than in me, of course.”

You scoffed, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Last time I checked, you were in the same boat.” You bumped him with your shoulder playfully.

“I still am, but I thought it was important to remind you of your roots. Your staring problem might be worse than mine,” he teased, bumping you back.

“I didn’t listen for your cafe order and then bring it up later to make a statement,” you pointed out. “Now who’s worse?”

“Hm,” he grunted. “I mean, I guess.” 

“I’ll take that as accepting defeat,” you said triumphantly. He fought back a smile and took your hand. His large hand engulfed yours, squeezing it lightly before he guided you to that last part of the exhibit. The knots in your stomach only twisted more at his gesture. 

“You mentioned during the first week that microbiology really interested you, so I saved the best for last.” 

You blinked at him, a bit stunned he had remembered that. The two of you hadn’t even spoken then. It was a trivial comment you barely remembered making. Before you could fully process it, a video played on the screen. It was an animation detailing eukaryotic cells, specifically highlighting their functions in humans. The two of you watched in silence and listened intently. After it ended, he turned to face you. 

“Isn’t it cool that under all these layers, we're just that.” He pointed to the nucleus of a small structure on the screen. “Humans are so complex. There’s so many things that are overlooked that are fundamental for us to function. Makes you appreciate the little things, you know?” He cleared his throat, eyes darting to the ground. “But yeah, uh, the video wasn’t too bad.”

He dropped his nonchalant act temporarily to connect with you, but you feel like you just missed your window yet again. His walls went up as quickly as they had gone down. You liked his take, it was very insightful. Plus, he’d remembered such a small detail about you and it meant a lot. 

“The little things are overlooked often, you’re right,” you said quietly. Fear bubbled in your stomach, the weight of the conversation crashing down on you. Last time you checked, this wasn’t first date behavior. It was way too deep, way too soon. But you didn’t feel uncomfortable necessarily, you felt afraid of being judged. Being vulnerable, even if it was about biology cells, wasn’t your strong suit. Especially with someone you liked, you didn't want them to think less of you.

Toji nodded and inched closer. You looked up to look at him, really look at him. His hair was slightly mused, the polo he wore fitted him so perfectly it annoyed you, and his eyes. His green eyes were practically shining and you knew what was coming before it happened. He cupped your cheek before pressing his lips to yours. You kissed him back, fingers tangling in his hair. It was tender; he stroked your cheek with his thumb as he kissed you like you were his oxygen. His soft lips captured yours and it felt like the rest of the world melted away. You pulled away, flustered, heart ready to leap out of your chest.

“We’re in public,” you reminded him, slightly out of breath. The museum was pretty much empty, and no one else was in the exhibit room other than the two of you. You turned your back to him to compose yourself. You had realized he was going to kiss you right before it happened, and yet, nothing could have prepared you for that. The rate your heart was beating at was alarming. You wanted to do that again, except in the privacy of a room where you could do whatever you wa—

“You okay?” He asked, interrupting your thoughts.

You turned around and found him looking at you with a concerned look on his face. His glasses were slipping off his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. He walked up to you, but still left some space between him and you. “Was that too much?” 

You shook your head. That wasn’t enough, but you couldn’t just say that. “No, it wasn’t. I’m sorry I—“ You paused to collect your thoughts. You liked him and it felt good to be here with him. But the pressure in your stomach wasn’t just butterflies. It was fear. You were scared of messing this up and it was eating you alive, preventing you from actually living in the moment.

“I think I’m just scared.” 

Silence. Your confession, short and brutally honest, was finally out in the open. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from your chest. You exhaled and met his eyes. They were sad. Droopy even. Was it from disappointment? Had you ruined the good thing before you even got to enjoy it?

“Me too.” His expression mirrored yours and his admission hung in the air as the two of you processed your mutual fear. It was ironic really—both of you were terrified of ruining a good thing with the other. You could pin yours to previous experiences causing you to have the doubt, but you wondered: what was his reason? The way Toji carried himself alone would make you believe otherwise…but the first thing you learned about him was to never judge a book by its cover.

“You look surprised.” He said it more like a statement than a question. You didn’t even realize you were letting your shock show on your face. You quickly made a neutral expression, but it was too late.

“Go ahead, ask me why that is. I know you want to.” You did want to, but part of you wasn’t sure if you should. Despite the obvious invitation, it felt like an invasion of privacy. Again, you reminded yourself, not first date behavior. But you were already way past trying to fit it into the box of how a first date should go.

“Why are you scared?” Your voice sounded smaller than you had anticipated. Still, you waited for an answer.

“I’m not good at this stuff. I struggled to pick a place for us to go out. I ultimately picked somewhere where I think would interest the both of us and where we could have fun, but I wasn't sure if that was the right choice I mean…” He sighed and his shoulder slacked. “I thought you’re supposed to have a fancy dinner. I wasn’t sure if you’d want that. And I doubt we could even afford it, us being broke college students and all—anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that I’m scared of doing this all wrong. It’s hard to pinpoint the balance between what I should do and what I want to do.” He was rambling at this point. It didn’t seem to bother him though. He seemed to be sorting through his thoughts verbally. “Is the expensive dinner the proper tone to set? Am I being a gentleman? Am I being too nice where it waters down our banter, but too rude where you think I might hate your guts? It’s a lot to wrap my head around.” 

That was a lot to take in at once. You didn’t know he felt this way. He acted so carefree about it all that he really fooled you. “All I know is that I like you, and I want to see where this goes.” He shook his head. “Wow what a first date. Feels like a therapy session.”

Your nerves calmed down and your face broke into a smile. “I like you too. And you don’t need to worry about how you think you should act too much. Just be. I like you for how you are. You’re unapologetically your authentic self. That’s something I admire about you.”

He mirrored your smile. “Oh? Well I guess saying my piece was worth putting everything on the line for,” he joked. You rolled your eyes and laughed. 

“Music to my ears.”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “Gross.”

“What? I can’t appreciate your laugh? And don’t say I’m being corny. Or a geek. I’m not a geek,” he argued.

“...That’s something a geek would say.” 

The two of you left the room and bickered all the way out of the museum, to the car, and the ride home to your house. He kissed you goodbye and drove off once you got inside.

A few hours later, you received a text:

toji: Okay, on a scale of 1-10, how was the first date? I’m open to criticism, but let it be constructive. No “geek” or “dork” nonsense.

you: 10/10 for the geek-ery

toji: I hate you

you: you really don’t

toji: Shut it

You giggled and rolled over on your bed. You were really happy with how the date went. You were beyond nervous, but it all worked out in the end

you: on a real note, i had a good time. thank you for nerding out with me

toji: Same, thanks for agreeing to go out with me even though I said it wrong the first time.

toji: Also, the hell is “nerding out?”

you: the nerd … doesn't know what.. nerding out is …

toji: Wearing glasses doesn’t equate to me being a nerd dumbass

you: quickly, who can recite the entire marvel series in order from memory?

toji: I don’t know but they sound pretty cool to me ngl

you: Dork.

It took a few more dates to get fully comfortable with each other, but when you did, it was amazing. He kept it up with the nerdy date ideas, which you appreciated. You got to dabble in each other’s interests along with tapping into your shared ones. You kept things in your science lab locker from each date: ticket stubs, receipts, and photos... lots and lots of photos. The more you learned about him, the more you fell for him. It was impossible not to love him, you decided. 

In class, you were eventually allowed to sit wherever, but of course neither of you budged. “These seats are lucky,” you declared one day. “We can’t move away.” Instead of teasing you, Toji agreed. There would be no seating changes since he was very happy with where he was at. He had said that last part pointedly and it made you grin.

Dating Toji was everything you’d imagined and more. He was attentive, noticing things you usually missed, and also kept you on your toes. He challenged you to try your hardest and be better. Whenever you needed help with school, he was the first person you went to. You couldn’t be more grateful.

And the sex was the best of your life. You remember your first time with Toji like it was yesterday: 

It was early morning and he had spent the previous night watching movies with you. He spent the night and slept in your bed. You woke up with him hard, pressed up against your ass…and you, soaking through your flimsy sleep shorts.

Of course, knowing Toji, teasing you was his first course of action. He spread your thighs open, teased your entrance with his tip, smirking as you whined for him to just put it in already. 

“Toji—” you whispered his name softly. His dark brows knitted together in mock concern. “Tojiii.” 

“Yes?” He asked innocently. The smirk on his face told him he was anything but innocent, but you were so needy you didn’t want to stall any longer. You closed your legs slightly and glared at him. He gripped your thighs to force them apart and your stomach dipped in excitement. 

“Stop teasing,” you pleaded. “Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely, I will. Give me a sec.” He took off his glasses and reached to put it on the nightstand, but you grabbed his wrist. 

“No, keep them on,” you urged him.

He stared back at you for a moment before putting them back on. The look he gave you made the butterflies in your stomach swarm. You couldn’t resist that look and he knew it. You leaned forward and kissed him. He melted into the kiss, cupping your face gently, and groaning softly before finding his rightful place between your legs. You gasped as he entered you, arching your back. Each inch was more agonizing than the last. He was just too big to take all at once. 

“S-slow down.”

He stilled and pushed your hair out of your face. “I’m sorry I got too excited, you wanna take it slow?”

You nodded eagerly and he rubbed small circles on your clit with his thumb. He tried again, except slower this time. You bit your lip as you attempted to take all of him again. “So tight baby—shit—That’s all of me,” he groaned as he bottomed out. He felt so good like this—thick cock stretching you out and burying you to the hilt. You moaned his name into the pillow underneath you softly.

“Mm don’t hide from me, I wanna hear you.” You lifted your head slightly at his words. He started to move his hips at a steady pace and you let out your broken moans this time. He groaned too, lost in the way your velvet walls hugged him tightly. For the first time having sex with him, he felt heavenly. You clawed at his back, whining as you took him. 

“Holy shit you turn me on so much.” His glasses kept slipping slightly down his nose and he kept pushing them up, but he didn’t take them off. The lewd sounds of skin on skin filled the room as dawn settled in. The sun rising didn’t stop either or you. Everything you needed was right here inside front of you.

“You’re taking me so well,” he groaned, causing you to flutter around him. His glasses were slightly fogged by now, each stroke stripped him of his resolve. All of his focus was on chasing both of your highs. He snapped hips and picked up the pace. Your broken cries egged him on even further and he twitched inside of you at your pretty sounds.  

“Feels s’good,” you choked out, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “I’m close.” Pleasure was building up in your stomach. You were so close you could practically taste it. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he turned his hips slightly. At this new angle, he drove even deeper inside your poor cunt, fucking you with purpose. The head of his cock kissed your cervix every time he bottomed out and you clenched around his length, eyes screwed shut. 

“Yeah baby? You're close? Cum for me. I wanna feel you squeezing around me,” he breathed, “Give it to me. All of you.”

With one more thrust, you came, cunt squeezing his cock, milking him for everything he has, just like he asked. His name escaped your lips as your orgasm crashed over you and you shuddered at the overwhelming pleasure. He slowed down, thrusts becoming sloppier than the last, rigid before he came himself. His thick seed shot deep inside your aching cunt. You whined softly as he collapsed beside you with a low grunt.

The two of you laid there, chests heaving as you caught your breath. 

 “Toji…” 

“'m sorry, I didn’t plan this either.”

You lifted your head to glare at him. “Oh, really? Who was humping me like a hormonal dog in their sleep last night?”  You shot back. 

“Fair point, let me make it up to you?” He folded almost immediately. 

You perked up at this, curious to see what he had in store. “Making it up to you” entailed the best aftercare of your life, though he swore he always prioritized aftercare no matter the situation. Toji cleaned you up with a towel before taking you to the bathroom.  He ran a hot bath with your favorite body wash and made sure the temperature was just right. He climbed in with you and handed you with care. Afterwards, you snuggled in bed together with you as the little spoon.

“Sometimes I wonder if I hadn’t forgotten my lunch that day. I wouldn’t have gone into the cafe,” you murmured.

Toji kissed your neck and sighed. “Yeah we wouldn’t have continued our little game.”

“I’m glad I did. I’m glad to be stuck with you.”

“Me too,” he murmured back, “I’ll always be right by your side.”

through the walls came the muffled sounds of conversation. you could hear toji grumbling under his breath about something, his low voice carrying through the halls before it abruptly gave way to a rough, booming laugh. whatever had annoyed him clearly hadn't lasted long. tsumiki's lighthearted voice followed almost immediately, and then came the soft, affectionate laughter of megumi's mom.

together, their voices blended into a comforting hum that made the whole place feel warm and full of life.

i mean, after being apart for so long, what parent wouldn't be happy to see their kids back home from college?

the only person missing? megumi fushiguro. and where was he? upstairs in his room.. with you. in his defense, though, he'd already spent the entire week catching up with his family. now, as far as he was concerned, it was time to spend some quality time with his girlfriend.

the air in his bedroom was thick with a tension that felt both fragile and heavy. downstairs, the muffled sounds of the fushiguro household, the clatter of plates and the low rumble of conversation continued, serving as a dangerous backdrop to the illicit act happening right now on his bed.

you were sprawled back against his cold pillows, your legs draped over his shoulders, exposing every inch of your cunt to him. because of megumi’s low sex drive, these moments were rare. he didn't crave sex with the urgency others did, and the gaps between your intimate encounters were often long enough that you almost forgot the sheer, devastating skill he possessed with his tongue.

though right now, you were remembering quite well.

"mmmh... what if tsumiki walks in?" you muttered, watching him through half lidded eyes before letting your head fall back against his pillows with a small sound escaping from your lips.

“she won’t.”

“your— hah! your dad?”

he opened his eyes just enough to meet your gaze, his slightly furrowed brows and narrowed eyes sending a silent warning your way; the silent equivalent of telling you to drop it. you got the message immediately and decided not to push your luck.

megumi was focused, his dark hair falling forward as he pressed his face against your folds for the third time that evening. he started slow, his tongue tracing a wet, deliberate line from the very bottom of your entrance, dragging upward through your slickness until he reached your clit. he didn't slurp or make loud, messy noises, instead, he used a firm, rhythmic pressure, sucking your swollen nub into his mouth with a precision that made your hips jerk involuntarily.

as he worked, his hands subconsciously began rubbing your thighs, his palms sliding up and down the soft skin of the back of your thighs in a slow, grounding motion.

a sharp gasp escaped your lips, echoing too loudly in the quiet room.

megumi slightly pulled away from your cunt with a small smooch, glancing up at you with those piercing eyes, his voice a low, warning velvet. "quiet down," he breathed, his breath hot against your skin, and pressed a small kiss to your folds. "they’ll hear you."

"i can't help it.." you whimpered, your fingers digging into the sheets. "megs, please— you know exactly what you're doing!"

"do i?" he murmured, pressing his mouth deeper into your pussy, letting out a low, vibrating hum that echoed through your entire pelvic floor. though, the sound was muffled by your flesh.

"forget how good you taste.. you're so sweet."

the admission only made your heart race more. you reached down, your fingers brushing through his dark spikes. "remember now?"

"hard to forget in the first place," he whispered, his voice vibrating against your clit. "you’re so wet for me, pretty..”

he leaned back in, but this time he was more methodical. he used his tongue to lap at your entrance, swirling in slow, heavy circles that made you feel like you were melting into the mattress. every time you tried to moan, megumi would increase the suction on your clit, effectively stealing the sound from your throat.

"oooh, fffuck— just like that! yeah—" you gasped.

his hands gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you closer to his face. "yeah? tell me how it feels."

"it feels.. too much," you squeaked out, your voice a strained whisper. "it feels incredible though— don't stop, please don't stop!"

megumi pulled back slowly, and as he retreated, a thick string of saliva remained connected, stretching from his lower lip to your dripping cunt for a heartbeat before it finally snapped. the sight was visceral and raw, sending a jolt of pure heat straight to your core.

before you could recover, he gathered a pool of spit in his mouth and spat directly onto your pussy, the wet glob glistening against your pink flesh. he followed it immediately with one long, slow lick that swept from your hole all the way to the top, coating you in his warmth.

you let out a choked moan, your mind racing. god, that was so erotic, you thought, your heart hammering against your ribs.

he wasted no time in burying his face back into you, but this time it was more aggressive, almost as if he were making out with your cunt. using his lips to seal around you, his tongue swirled and flicked with a relentless pace that pushed you toward the edge. he knew exactly where to press, exactly how much suction to apply to make your vision blur and toes curl.

"you’re so tight," he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick. "maybe i needa fuck you more, mmm?"

"it’s ’cause you're— you're too good at it," you managed to choke out, your hips beginning to buck.

“am i, now?”

“mmmh!”

as the pressure built, the world outside the room ceased to exist. you were spiraling, the warmth of his tongue against your clit becoming an unbearable pleasure.

your hand quickly darted out, fingers tangling firmly in his dark hair, and you pushed him deeper into your cunt, forcing his face flush against you. subconsciously, you parted your thighs wider, opening yourself completely to him. and your toes curled tight, your back arching off the pillows as the orgasm finally crashed over you in violent, pulsing waves.

through the haze of your climax, you felt megumi stop moving his tongue, but he didn't pull away. he stayed right there, his face pressed into your soaking wetness, staring up at you. he watched your expression, watching the way your eyes rolled back and your chest heaved, witnessing every second of your release without breaking eye contact. to him, you looked unbelievably beautiful like this.

as the tremors began to subside and you looked back down at him, he didn't move. he just let out a soft, huffed breath and smiled faintly against your pussy, a rare, intimate expression of affection, before closing his eyes and savoring the scent and taste of you.

"feels good?" he murmured, his voice vibrating against your clit.

you couldn't even form a coherent thought. your brain was mush, your body humming with afterglow. all you could manage was a broken, breathless murmur. "megsss.. why’d you stop? keep on—”

the moment was shattered by three heavy, rhythmic knocks against the bedroom door.

"oi, megumi," toji’s gruff voice boomed from the hallway, sounding impatient. "stop brooding in your room and get downstairs for dinner. now. you and your little girlfriend, both."

megumi groaned at the sound of his father’s voice and stiffened, finally pulling away with a wet pop. he sat back on his heels, wiping a stray drop of your juices from his lip with the back of his hand, looking entirely unfazed while you lay there trembling and completely undone.

"coming," he called back, his voice returning to its usual raspiness, though the glint in his eyes told you he knew exactly how much he'd just ruined you.

“can you sit on my dick after dinner? please?”

cockwarming drabble dropping soon fellas 🥳🥳🥳 jk……unless….. also im thinking abt writing for kashimo. does anyone fw that???? him have a tongue piercing??? i keep thinking abt that nerd armin fanart 🤤🤤🤤

ref from here !

Geto runs a hand through his long silken hair, letting the edges curl around his fingers like tendrils of night. Swallow him up. 

He remembers how, in middle school, he used to be a source of envy for boys and girls alike because of this very hair. They’d braid it. They’d pin flowers in it. He wonders where those little human classmates of his were now. Doing well? As much as a human could. Dead? Well, after tonight…Now he can’t remember the last time he combed his own hair without Nanako and Mimiko gently sitting him down and doing it themselves, after a long while spent seeing their pseudo-father accumulate knots. Unsolvable knots.

Geto would’ve cut it all off if it didn’t mean looking in the mirror and seeing his father look back at him.

Then again, you did tell him you found his hair beautiful one time.

He lets out a subconscious sigh, and that seems to catch the attention of those around him.

“Pa—I mean! Geto-sama, you seem tired.” Nanako’s bleached hair quivers as she leans in concern, her painted lips pouting together. Her and her sister were the ones seated closest to him - on either side just like two arms. “You’re starting to get, like, eye-bags and crease lines! You should just get some rest already-”

Just as Geto was raising his hand to wave off Nanako’s worries with a smile- “It’s true, Geto-sama.” Her sister’s speaking up. The darker-haired of the twins looks at him seriously, “Don’t think we haven’t noticed that you haven’t been sleeping much these days. Are you…” She hesitates, “Are you having second thoughts-”

“Never.” Geto says, firmly. “Never.”

She breathes out and he isn’t quite sure whether it’s in acceptance or relief, “Then please remember that rest is important in any well-executed plan.”

“I don’t believe I have given you any reason to think that I should fail in my plan?” Geto asks, his simpering smile spreading across his face.

And the reactions are instant—

“No! No please do not misunderstand me, Geto-sama.” Mimiko protests.

“You would never fail us, Geto-sama-”

“I love you, Geto-sama~”

“What the twins say is true.” Miguel’s the only one to cross his strong arms across his chest, gaze piercing even though his perpetual shades. He levels a look down at Geto, “Just as we trust your leadership, Geto-sama, you have to trust that your family will be just as competent.”

Geto almost chuckles, “I know my family is competent.”

“Then let us handle the rest of it, Geto-sama!” Nanako pips up in determination, to which her twin nods fervently. “Right now all that’s left is to revise your masterful plan- so you just get some sleep and we’ll wake you up before it’s time for action!”

Their dark-haired leader makes a noise of weak dismissal, “But-”

“We promise we have it all covered!”

That particular sentence was followed by some passionate tones of agreement echoed around the room, drowning out Geto’s slight protest with ease. 

He heaves out a meaningful sigh, he did admit that his eyelids were feeling heavier day by day. There was a fatigue he couldn’t explain that had taken up permanent residence in his bones - it had become one with him. He admits that part of it likely had something to do with the sleepless nights spent poring over their battle strategies, but part of it seemed to stem from something else, too…

He just wished he knew what.

Geto shakes his head free of the thought, and hopes it looks like he’s just shaking his head fondly at his family. “You all…” And with only the briefest hesitation, he’s bracing his hands upon either arm of his chair and standing up. “On Christmas eve, we will commence our widescale attack on Shinjuku including Tokyo Jujutsu High. You are to wake me one hour before the plan is to be executed, and not a single minute later.”

They breathe out sighs of relief, and Larue announces- “Anything for you, Geto-sama~!”

Geto Suguru takes one last glance behind him as he leaves the meeting room: the handful of sorcerers that he considered his true family. They pored over scraps of paper with his own neat handwriting displayed on them, reading through the perfect attack positions and hiding corners in Tokyo Jujutsu High. He would know.

They beam at him, and he can’t help but crack an easy smile back—yes, maybe this truly was the way it’s supposed to be. They would wake him up.

In the next few minutes, Geto’s walking through the sprawling corridors of his temple. Quite the large building. Quite the ancient building. Quite the secretive building - even before a maddened cult leader had come to take residence in this place. 

The well-polished wooden floors seemed to creak with invisible footsteps, and towering beams held up a gilded roof. It dappled soft patterns on a garden that was now desolate and dusted with the first frost of Christmas. Those specks of nothingness lifted with a winter draft, seeping in through the cracks of the floor-to-ceiling sliding panels. Seeping inside.

From the slices of the outside that Geto could see through the panel, he spots a singular paper red paper strip tied to a nearby pine. It was one of those long vertical papers that people wrote wishes on - your work, surely. Not many people came to this temple to wish.

All he has to do is reach his arm through the half-open divider to catch the flapping wishing paper—I wish for a peaceful new year for us all (especially the ever-stressed Geto-sama!!)

Geto chuckles, before his eyes dip further.

And may my love come true.

And then his gaze narrows.

He’s not quite sure what that sudden stab of pain in his chest means - nor does he have the time and patience to ponder upon it, really. Pondering is what turns such things dangerous. It’s best to leave some thoughts untouched, if you don’t think about it then it hasn’t happened.

Somewhat.

Geto’s tearing the wishing paper off the tree and tucking it into his sleeve, striding his way into his bedroom. The only time that he actually slows down is when he passes by the bedroom that had been allocated to you.

You were Shoko’s friend before his. And to this day, he still isn’t quite sure what made you follow him to his doom that day of his defection rather than staying behind with the friends you always knew and trusted - and Geto Suguru hadn’t asked, either. He’s sure it was a long story anyways.

The only right he’d done by you was refusing to kill you. 

At least until tonight, he’s not sure what will happen once his plans are thrown into motion - the eradication of all non-sorcerers, how sweet it had sounded when he first said it. 

And it wasn’t as if you were entirely oblivious to his schemes, either. You were an honorary member of his association, he supposes, and he knows that most members don’t understand why you were here either. You had your own life. You had an office job. You had a family. You had connections with the outside world—and yet, when the clock hit 5PM at the end of your shift and your friends all made their excuses to go home, the only home you went to was Geto Suguru.

He still didn’t understand why. He would never.

Nor does he know why he peaks his head inside your bedroom with a knock at your door, a subtle smile spreading across his face at the vision of you on your bed and reading. “Am I interrupting?” He always said that non-sorcerers had a certain stench to them - that stench of weakness.

He’s always found that he basks in your flowery scent.

“Oh? Look who came back down to Earth.” You’re looking up from your book and smiling - far wider and far brighter than he ever could nor would deserve. “I thought you’d be locked up inside that meeting room until New Year’s.”

“If we were then we wouldn’t be able to carry out the plan.” Geto reminds you—our plan. As if you would ever concoct such a thing when it was entirely him.

“Ah, of course.” You close your book and swing your legs to place your feet on the floor with utmost casualness. Staring at him for what feels like a lingering few seconds, before you finally sigh. He never wanted that sound of tiredness to leave your mouth ever again. “Then I suppose this might be a good time to tell you that I’m leaving the temple. For good.”

He shouldn’t feel as shocked as he does, “What-”

“Oh c’mon, Suguru.” You’re still maintaining your smile, with a glint of exasperated fondness. But how could you just smile at him like that? How could you smile? Tone almost as if you were soothing a crying child and nothing more than that, “Don’t look so shocked, we both knew this day was going to come.”

Was it him? Was it he who made you sound so exhausted? “I don’t understand. The plan-”

“Constitutes that all non-sorcerers are to be eradicated for the betterment of jujutsu society.” You finish off for him, and he’s slightly taken aback by how you’ve memorized his very words. Geto never realized how many mealtimes shared with you that he must have spent talking about this plan. He never realized. The smile on your face grows slightly sad now, “And I know what you see me as.”

What? He wants to demand, but the word never comes out.

“I should’ve hoped that after ten years I- nevermind.” You’re cutting yourself off and looking away from him—and he wants to tell you to continue. He wants to. But what right does he have when he can’t even speak his mind freely himself? “I have never hoped to change you. Not then, and I certainly will not right now. But I can’t stand to have my blood stain this temple.”

You’re standing up then, and his hands reach out to you before his mind can fully compute why.

You don’t seem to notice his abrupt movement, only rounding the bed and crouching down where your bags were in the middle of being packed. “When you succeed-” 

“If I succeed?”

With your back turned to him like this, he couldn’t make out the expression on your face as you continue speaking. He almost wants to walk up to you and turn you around to face him himself. “I only ask that it doesn’t have to be you personally- send someone else to kill me off. Maybe Miguel or Negi. I’ll be in Sendai.”

He clenches his jaw, that very same outreached hand now clenching at his side. “You wish to be killed by Miguel or Negi?”

“Any one of your family.” Your tone doesn’t reveal a thing, and you speak as if a silent part of Geto hadn’t been counting you amongst his family for a long, long time now. “Just not you. Not even one of your curses.”

“Just not me.” Geto repeats, hollow.

And, before, in high school he always did end up knowing the right thing to do. He always did end up knowing the right thing to say. He always did end up knowing the right thing to feel. Or, at least, what felt like it to him at the time.

But this Geto Suguru doesn’t.

This Geto Suguru is more lost than he was at seventeen.

He turns his back to you as you were doing to him, he wonders if you can hear his silent movements. Gaze lowered to the polished wood underneath his sandals, “I understand.” He takes his first step out of the human’s bedroom, it rings out emptily. Geto Suguru was never too good at goodbyes. “I will see to it that your final wish is followed.”

He hears your soft sobs follow him to his own bedroom.

.

.

.

Geto’s sleep is fitful and more painful than if he’d have stayed awake.

He doesn’t remember the walk back from your room and changing into his softest robes, but he does remember hoping that by changing his clothes, perhaps, he could shed the weight that seemed to have settled in his chest. It doesn’t quite work and he sleeps facing upright.

It hurts. It hurts.

At one point he wakes up wondering whether he should ask for Negi or someone to call for the association’s healer. At another he wakes up with his tears plastering his cheek to the pillow and he’s not quite sure why, brain sleep-muddled enough that he thinks they may have been your tears. But you weren’t here, and you will never be now.

At another point he wakes up and it’s all darkness.

Geto’s blinking his slightly swollen eyes at the void that doesn’t need to blink—what was the time? When he’d fallen asleep, the soft blush of dusk was still filtering in from his window - but right now it was darker than it would be at the pitch dead of night. Like a thick veil covering the outlines of his curtains, his furniture, his own self.

Did they forget to wake him up? Fuck- he hastens to reach out and slam a hand down on the cuboid alarm placed on his bedside table. Squinting at the darkness for a sign of those green digital numbers and—

Nothing.

Geto sits up and claws at the darkness to grab that damned clock in his hands- stupid human junk. He’s pressing every button on it that he can feel for and physically shaking it to get it to work. And yet, its dead clock face only seems to laugh and laugh and laugh at him-

“That won’t work, Geto-san!” Comes a soft, boyish voice - almost a whisper, almost the soft breath of wind that he could’ve explained away as the sounds exhaled from outside his window had it not been for the way that every single hair on his body raises. Cold fear gripping him for the first time in ten years. And Geto stills. “Time is irrelevant here.”

Because he knew that voice from anywhere.

In a movement so sharp and so primal that it nearly gives him whiplash- Geto Suguru drops the alarm and faces the foot of the bed.

Before him stands a man- a boy, more like. And the moment he sets his sights on him, Geto doesn’t know how he ever missed him. 

This sudden ray of light in the night.

Grinning. Beaming. 

Not only in his expression, but in every particle he was made up of. It was obviously not a person of this realm: body composed of what looked like a golden mist faintly shaping into the figure of a human, rays of light casting wherever he hovered, the flares of his existence flickering as if the darkness within Geto’s room was threatening to swallow him whole. In the hazy outline of his round face, Geto could see the warmest smile he’d seen in some time now. Other than yours. In his hand, he sees that this…thing held an oversized candle snuffer made of brass.

Past that, he could only see the semi-translucent upper half of the boy, but he already knew that his feet didn’t touch the floor. Didn’t have to. And had it been anyone but who Geto knew him to be, then he would’ve thought himself gone mad to think that this was some apparition and not a Special Grade curse.

Still, he uses his cursed technique to mentally summon every cursed being he knows - and finds that none appear before the ghost of Haibara Yu.

His entire body feels as though someone had poured ice-cold water over him.

Geto’s feet push him further and further up the mattress until he hits the wooden headboard, words coming out as if he’d just run a marathon. “You’re-” Cutting himself off with a burst of his own cursed energy, as if to exorcise this being. “You can’t be-”

The boy only grins wider.

And Geto’s voice almost breaks, “You aren’t-”

“Have you forgotten me already, Geto-san?” Brief sadness flickers in Haibara’s eyes - before he’s hovering closer to the other man, and Geto’s scrambling away from him like a madman. “I didn’t think it’s been that long.”

“It’s been ten years—” And Geto Suguru has seen dead bodies. He’s even seen dead bodies become reanimated with the help of jujutsu. But this was Haibara—young, grinning, happy Haibara with his soft eyes and his softer heart.

The Haibara that he’d welcomed with an over-the-top party on his first day at school. The Haibara that he’d share his rice with when it was too much. The Haibara that he remembered that last conversation about sweets with before his final mission. Haibara that lay cold and dead on Tokyo Jujutsu High’s examination table.

Geto was twenty-seven and Haibara was still sixteen.

That bowl-cut of his just the way he remembered - but when has he ever looked this much like a child? Or maybe it’s just Geto who’s grown up. “It’s been ten years and you’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to be alive-”

“And I am not, Geto-san.” Haibara smiles sadly, and the other man wonders just why he made others make that expression. In every route of his life, in every realm.

The golden figure floats away slightly, and Geto lunges after it- “Who summoned you-”

“No one.”

“Which human practiced the occult-”

“No one.”

“What cursed technique then-”

“No one’s, Geto-san.” Haibara finally utters, just as patient as he remembered him. He floats around the corners of the room as if inspecting, “I am no one’s son.” Placing a hand on the wall that Geto’s room shared with yours, “Someone is crying here, Geto-san.”

Something wounded within Geto twitches, and he finally bows his head. He finds that he was kneeling on the mattress - when did that happen? When did his voice grow to be such a tired, dreary thing? “What do you want from me, Yu?”

“So you do remember me!” The boy gleefully laughs, hovering a full lap around the grand room before coming to a stop before the grim-faced man. And Geto almost wants to ask—how could he forget? It was hard not to look back at Haibara when he peered up at Geto in such a way, “I am the ghost of your past, Geto-san.”

“The past?” He asks, growing more and more confused by the second.

“Your past.” And before Geto knows it, the younger boy has one warm hand clasped around his. Feeling like the soft fan of early morning sunlight on his skin, he tugs Geto to his feet and leads him in the direction of the doorway. “Rise—and walk with me.”

Where Geto was sure they’d be walking out into the hallway of the temple, he blinks as they step through the door frame and finds himself…in another room entirely.

It was one that wouldn’t have looked out of place in any school, really.

Your average seats and desks. Your average windows. Your average mediocre artwork lining the walls. Your average human students that buzzed and flittered about in a way they only could when the teacher was out.

He gasps, swivelling behind him to find that the door to his bedroom had disappeared.

And in its place was an open classroom door, kids whizzing by in the corridor. 

The only reason that Geto even knew that this was his middle school was because of the tiny version of him, with his feet propped on the desk like a king. Chair balanced on two legs. Handsome face raised into the air. Shoulder-length hair in the hands of one of his classmates. His father hadn’t been too far off when he claimed that his son would be popular, and it was quite the regular occurrence for him to be called out for confessions by both boys and girls - not that he paid too much attention to these fleeting emotions.

Not that he….

“I know…” Geto breathes out, barely even a whisper. There’s a knot in his throat that no amount of swallowing can deter, “I know this place…this was my old middle school.”

“Your lips are trembling.” Haibara observes, not unkindly. And as Geto turns away from him with his mouth tightened, the boy-ghost swiftly hovers to the other side of him. “And what is that? On your cheek, Geto-san?”

“Nothing.” He grits out, the back of his hand coming to swipe at his wet face. He hasn’t cried like this in ten years. Not this much. “There’s just something in my eye- it’s always so damn stuffy in this place.”

“Do you remember your days here?” The spirit asks softly.

“Remember?” Geto almost chuckles, “I live a thousand deaths reliving them.”

“Then look…” Haibara looks back and forth between the past version of Geto Suguru and the current. “I don’t remember you ever being so red, Geto-san. At least, not unless you were in the presence of her-”

They both peer at the old version of him. 

“Shush, Yu.” Geto bites out, moving even closer to his flush-faced self. “I…I don’t remember myself being so red either. Who was—oh.”

His heart drops.

In a sea of faces, there are only a few that one can recognize at first glance.

To Geto, yours was right there at the top.

You were the one - undeniably the one - seated behind him. You were the one with your smaller fingers weaving through his silky hair and dividing it into sections. You were the one with an armful of flowers that you were carefully placing.

You hadn’t even been in his class-

“Isn’t young love sweet?” Haibara floats closer, pointing at the younger versions of yourselves: you, chattering on nervously as you fill the silence while braiding Geto’s hair, Geto pretending through a blush that he was registering a single word you said.

Humming absent-mindedly along, voice higher than Geto ever remembers it being.

Geto looks at him in question.

And Haibara always answers, “Those sweet middle-school memories you had? You can thank her for those- as you can thank her for many things. She wasn’t in your class, no—” And Geto wonders whether he can read his mind, “-but she did come to you at every lunchtime without fail. A friend of a friend. You two were friends by chance. You remember now, don’t you?”

His mouth parts, “I…I do-” How could he ever have forgotten?

“And you remember the day she left?” Before Geto can stop it, the background dissolves once more- except, it’s the same classroom. The same set of students. The same him.

It might as well have been the same day had it not been for one glaring absence - you. 

And it was clearly affecting the Geto in the memory, as well. He seemed…dimmed. He had his head resting in his arms on the table, looking up alertly any time the classroom door opened—and then pushing right back down any time it wasn’t you. No one talked to him.

Geto looks away.

“It’s the first time you’ve been so upset, right, Geto-san?” Haibara questions, his eyes lowered with emotion. “Loss is something you’ve had to face from a young age, and I apologize-”

“You don’t need to apologize.” He almost snaps, looking back at the scene. “Her- what happened to her?”

“Family moved. Guardian’s promotion to Tokyo.” The spirit replies simply, “It was a sudden endeavor, she didn’t know it herself until it was time to leave.” And then Haibara cracks a sheepish smile, “If you thought you were upset, you should’ve seen her.”

He pleads, “But why didn’t she tell me-”

“Why didn’t you ask?” Those large eyes stare at him - once they were a beautiful brown, probing. Now they were golden. Now they were asking why he didn’t take the time to probe you, to know you, to even know what middle school you’d gone to-

“I didn’t…I didn’t remember-” Geto’s breath hitches, he felt the tears coming on once more. 

Haibara wraps an arm around his dark-haired friend’s shoulder, “It’s understandable. It was just that summer that you discovered your cursed technique, Geto-san, I wouldn’t blame you. And you shouldn’t blame yourself.” He then attempts to put his arm around the other man’s shoulders, but ends up floating right through.

“I want to leave.” He whispers, and Haibara looks at him curiously. “Show me something else. Please.”

Haibara nods, but he looks at the past memory once again. “Poor, poor boy.” 

Geto doesn’t know which version of him he’s talking about.

The golden spirit then reaches down to clasp Geto’s hand once more, now trembling and pale. “Come on…let’s see another past.” And Geto feels his surroundings melt away into nothingness and something entirely new once more

This time when he met you for the first time.

Well, when he met you again for the first time.

“—and this is Geto Suguru.” Shoko gestures towards the black-haired boy, slightly loose in his uniform. Ah yes, Geto remembers that she’d been the one to conduct the introductions between him and you, her best friend from her Tokyo middle school.

And he could see it only now, that slight sparkle of recognition in your eyes.

Mixed with the vagueness of something else the second he’d stuck his hand out in a fresh new introduction.

Something sad.

“Pleasure to meet you.” The past version of himself purrs, hair not pulled back in a bun as it had come to be in his second year. This was just a few months since he’d started at Tokyo Jujutsu High, he remembers, and the greenery of the campus grounds had never looked more lush. Everything had been alive those two springs. “Ieri here has talked a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope.” You’d managed out a smile, and now he wonders how.

“Only.”

Shoko wrinkles her nose, “Don’t get caught up with this one, when he breaks your heart I’ll have to break his nose and Yaga would give me detention for that. Don’t wanna break my streak just yet.” His past self protests, though his current can only bitterly chuckle at the truth. 

The short-haired girl then catches a flash of blue and white in the corner of her vision and groans, “And here comes the other one. He’s almost worse and will definitely hit on y-”

They’re flicking through more memories, remnants of such.

You’d hung out with the three of them sporadically after that. Geto sees the party they’d thrown for the first-years, Nanami and Haibara. Geto sees parts of missions he can’t remember—and then parts of a mission he can. The Star Plasma Vessel. Geto sees his last moments with Haibara, and when it looked like the spirit of his dead friend was about to stop on one particular moment where he’d first seen Haibara’s dead body- Geto reaches out and shakes his head. 

To which Haibara had smiled sadly and kept going.

Ultimately, they stop on a busy road in Tokyo. 

It was here that a younger him, donned in all black and keeping his head lowered, was weaving against the crush of the crowd. Step by step. Heartbeat by heartbeat. Unsure which one was the harder feat to accomplish. 

Geto knew this moment. But he doesn’t remember it being so dim in this memory.

There was a trembling in his lip that he’d never noticed as Geto walked away from jujutsu society that day, walked away from his one and only best friend.

“Are you The Strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru? Or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re The Strongest?”

It was a long walk alone.

At least, until he’d bumped into…you.

“Watch where you’re-” The current Geto hovers nearby, seeing the exact moment that you look up and let your eyes widen in recognition. And as Geto turns to step aside and keep on walking- you’d reached out and clasped him by the fabric of his sweater. “Wait- wait, Suguru?” It’d been some time since he’d started spiralling, since you’d all hung out together - but you wouldn’t mistake that face for the world. “Where are you going looking like that? Why do you look so—”

Sad.

Geto now realizes it’s what you’d been trying to ask.

Instead, you’re questioning. “Are you alright?”

But he’d turned back to you with only a dead smile. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

“I don’t know- Shoko told me you’ve just been a little…” You trail off, and he’s sure you’d been briefed well enough by your friend. Holding up the snacks in your hands. “I’m actually going to meet her right now, would you like to come with me?”

“I’m afraid not today.” He tilts his head, turning to leave once more.

But you hadn’t let up- gripping his soft fabric again. “Where are you going?” Perhaps feeling that you’d simply been asking too many questions, you blurt on. “Actually- it doesn’t matter, just take me with you!”

To this day, he doesn’t know why you’d asked to come with him. It’s what led to this in the first place.

He turns to Haibara with his mouth open in a question-

“Why?” 

Geto snaps his head to his past version, he doesn’t remember this part.

“Wh-what?” You ask nervously.

“Why?” The younger him repeats.

“Because…” And his ghostly self was on edge awaiting your answer, knowing the him in this memory was far too much of a mess to remember. The metallic packets in your hand rustle as you squeeze them tighter, “Because it looks like you could use something to eat.”

He wants to reach out and touch you—he does. But his hand passes right through you, and Haibara clasps it instead.

“It is now-” He starts, his soft sibilance. “-it is here, that I leave you.”

“Wait-” Geto clamors forwards as the other man reaches for the candle snuffer that had been in his other hand this entire time, fingers gliding right through the mist of his body as he tries to stop his friend’s spirit. Perhaps to bind him to him. “Wait a minute, Yu-”

He only smiles sadly, “We will meet again, Geto-san.”

“No-” Geto feels his throat run ragged, “But there are so many more things I need to tell you- so many more things I need to ask you—did you suffer then? Are you suffering now? Please know that I’m sorry-”

“We will meet again.”

“Yu, don’t leave me—” He cries, “I miss you—”

“And just as I miss you, every candle must go out some time, Geto-san.” The top of Haibara’s bowl cut disappears beneath the brass, the only thing that one could see of him was his smile. He attempts to embrace him, but his arms go right through him. “Everything good and painful must come to an end.”

Darkness.

.

.

.

Light.

Blue.

Aquariums.

It’s the only thing that Geto sees at first, and though he can’t see it - he can feel the scorching summer sun basking down on him. It covered him entirely and birthed a glow behind his squinted eyelids. Gentle, at first, though slowly growing more painful the longer it lingered on his skin. Like a kiss grown too fierce.

Push and pull, the sighs of the waves.

When was the last time he’d been to the beach?

“Not in about ten years, stupid.” Oh.

Now that voice was harder to pinpoint than Haibara’s had been, though nevertheless striking a wound in him that he thought he’d bandaged up quite well all those years ago. It seems he wasn’t quite well at licking his wounds after all.

Geto hastily blinks his vision back and takes in the sight of none other than Riko Amanai before him. It was like a vision.

He remembers it all: the Okinawa beaches, the aquariums, the sound of a gunshot. The same black hair in pigtails. The same school uniform. The same wide dark eyes of hers that danced with mirth. The only start difference now was in the way she held a flaming torch in one hand, casting fiery shadows on the whirling aquariums around them. She wasn’t quite the candlelit vigil that Haibara had been, though something about her seemed much…grander than he remembers her being. As if he’d shrunk before her. 

Geto’s eyes shift from her glowing figure to the taller woman next to him—ah, he does remember that she had a caretaker with her. Though her name he cannot remember.

“Misato Kuroi.” The older woman speaks, and even now she seems so much wiser than him. Was he getting close to her age? She shoots him a wry smile, “Though I do not blame you for forgetting, I bet you not to speculate my age.”

“M-my apologies.” He utters out.

“Haaaaah?” Riko drags out in a disbelieving tone, her eyes going wide with surprise. “Whaddaya mean you’re just gonna apologize like that? You were so much more fun back then- hmpf, now you’re like an old man-”

“Riko-san, please.” Misato begs.

And Riko quietens down, though she does not completely stop her grumbling. And though Geto might have been somewhat stunned into silence at first, he can’t help but plant a palm down on the girl’s head and ruffle her hair. Was she always this tiny? “No no- she’s right. I have become an old man as of late, haven’t I?”

Riko turns away from him with a harrumph and a string of muttered words.

“What’s that? Could almost hear ya.” Geto teases.

And she responds slightly louder, in a slightly choked-up tone. “And you’ve gotten all those dark circles and worry lines! You just look so tired- hmpf, old man.”

“Is that so?” Geto playfully asks, but he looks up at Misato who’d been examining.

“I’m afraid to say she’s right, Geto-san.” Misato sadly replies with a slightly bitter smile. “These ten years have been hard for you, haven’t they?”

He feels something clog up in his throat, and instantly looks away.

It’s Misato who first breaks the silence - still seemingly the only adult in the room, even after all this time. How ironic was that? “But that’s exactly what we’re here to help with, aren’t we, Riko-san?” 

She places both hands on the shoulders of the girl with the torch, and lightly nudges her forward. “I guess…” The little girl sighs, looking at him meaningfully. “We’re the ghosts of your present. We represent peace, love, and the present—yours.”

Peace and love? Geto has the sudden thought that his present likely had none of that, though he keeps it to himself. He’s sure they can read his mind either way. “Take me wherever you want then, spirits.”

Riko and Misato look at each other.

She’s then raising the curdling torch as high as her arm could reach, casting an oasis of yellow on the glass of the aquariums around them. Aquariums—Geto has memories of those during his time on Okinawa. His first and his last.

“Touch the glass.” Riko announces.

And Geto doesn’t waste a second of his present.

The moment the edge of his fingertips rests on the cold glass, it feels as if he’s drowning. He can’t see. He can’t breathe. He can’t feel anything but the wash of water down his entire being as though a shower that had burst, as though he’s standing underneath a waterfall, as though he’s being dragged through a pool of cold water and ending up on the other side. 

He gasps as soon as the water trickles away and he can finally take his breath.

“Wh-what the hell was that?” He sputters out, still feeling the faux water in his lungs. Looking down at himself to realize that not a single inch of him was actually wet- “That was the most unpleasant feeling-”

“Oh shut it, old man.” Riko interrupts, “And look.”

“Look whe- oh.” All he has to do is look up to know where he is. If his middle school classroom wouldn’t have looked out of place in any other school, then this particular one wouldn’t have looked in place anywhere but in Tokyo Jujutsu High.

It was the second years’ classroom.

Open space. Blackboard. Scuffed floor. Where the last remnants of the sun melted over the horizon and bled through the open windows, casting a glow on every wooden chair and desk. Ones that he was sure had his name doodled on some of them, along with a few more salacious drawings from his youth.

But Geto isn’t searching for them right now, he lets his eyes stay only to the man seated on the chair closest to the window. Legs propped up in a way that he’s surely gotten told off for before, balancing the chair on two feet as he looked at the sunset outside.

Gojo Satoru’s sadness was palpable even with his blindfold on. 

“Satoru…” Geto takes a step forward, but there almost felt as though there was an invisible screen between the two of them. And he could not go any further.

Misato held him back with a kind hand on his shoulder, “Keep watching.”

Gojo rests in his contemplative silence, and he doesn’t know whether he’s seen his best friend brooding such as this ever before. Well…other than on the day he left. There was such sadness about being The Strongest. 

There’s a soft knock on the door and the three beings from the other realm turn to see Shoko there. Her dark circles heavier than ever. “I see you’re taking your teaching duties with utmost seriousness.” She deadpans.

“Why, you know~” Gojo starts off. Before the smile falls from his face and he turns to the window once more, “He’ll be here tonight.”

“He will.”

“And the students-”

“Your students will be fine.” Shoko reassures, walking up to her longtime friend. She keeps a desk between them and takes a seat, gliding the tips of her fingers down the shaky engraving of her name on the wood. The empty desk stood loudly between them.

“I know.” Gojo sighs, “It’s not them.”

“Then?”

“It’s just…” And Geto has never seen the Gojo Satoru trail off a sentence, Geto has never seen Gojo Satoru struggle to put something into words. “It’s just the students that we were-” 

Shoko waits patiently for his answer, and so does Geto.

But the only thing that Gojo’s doing is to bark out a laugh, so bitter. “How did it come to this, Shoko? What a way to spend Christmas eve.”

“Satoru.” Shoko looks away from her best friend, reaching deep in her pockets for a cigarette. Each occupant in that room right now startles at the sound of her phone starting to ring, and she looks at the screen before walking away. “Your students need you.”

A second knock rings out, and Geto only needs to hear his soft, stuttering voice to know that it’s that Yuta Okkotsu kid. Him and his curse.

His fists clench.

“Touch the glass, Geto.”

He does, and the scenery melts.

Whizzing past glimpses and gazes into the lives of the newest set of first years at the school, and then the association members right now who were planning pillage. 

Until finally they stop. It’s the same sunset that reaches out through windows that are much narrower and of a darker wood than before…and yet a completely different room. He recognizes it to be the ones at the rooms of his temple, and never realized just how much more dreary they were in comparison to the sprawling windows at Tokyo Jujutsu High.

More specifically, he realizes he’s in your room.

Bags packed. Closet empty. You’re staring out the window.

Like a little lark aching to break free. You have your phone held against one ear, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that might have once-upon-a-time been his and a pair of underwear that makes his face heat. “Yeah…yeah, mhm…I know. I don’t think that it’s something I regret, Shoko.” Ah—Geto doesn’t think that he’s surprised it’s Shoko on the other end of the line. He knew that the two of you still met up occasionally, though you were always good at keeping the place of his hideout secret. “Yes, I would choose to go with him all over again.”

As you walk through your room you’re running your hands through the flat surfaces and crevices. Slight shadows of the items that had been here, you thumb over them sadly.

“No, you don’t need to pick me up- I can take a taxi, I promise.” You slightly chuckle, he doesn’t think he’s heard you laugh like that in a long time. “Of course I’m coming to see you first, who do you think I am?”

You stop before a stash of snacks you always had to share with some of the association, to share with Geto.

“I can’t wait.”

“What are we doing here?” Geto quietly asks, though he knows why.

“Keep listening.” Misato insists.

You’re turning your profile slightly to the side and oh…you have never looked more beautiful in his eyes. Even with the slight swelling around your eyes. “Why I did it?” 

Geto feels his heart race.

“Because I love him, of course.”

Geto feels his heart drop.

He wanted to reach out to you.

He wanted to hold you.

And you’re sighing as if the weight of a thousand lifetimes had just been lifted off of your shoulders, as if you hadn’t just uttered a sentence that had slid the world out from underneath his feet. You turn back to your feet and say, “I honestly think I’ve got everything covered but I need to buy your Christmas gift still and—”

And it just sounds like everything is underwater now.

Geto turns to Riko in a panic- “But I didn’t even touch the-”

“Don’t be greedy, old man.” She knits her brows and pretends to be cross, before breaking out into such a sad smile. “It’s time, Geto.”

And before Geto knows it, she’s lunging forwards and wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. He doesn’t feel it, and he doubts she does either, considering the way her otherworldly arms seem to glide right through him.

But to him, it’s enough.

“Thank you, Geto Suguru.” Riko whispers, audible even above the pressure of bubbles and water and something mystical roaring in his ears. It increases and increases. It swings his body around. “For everything.”

Misato pats him the same way on the shoulder, “You will do great, Geto-san.”

He looks up at the two with tears in his eyes, movements slow as if he was engulfed in a bathtub right now. “Thank—”

Before the glass seems to shatter, and suddenly he can do nothing.

Darkness.

.

.

.

Light. 

But the sort of light grey where it was the sun peeking out tentatively through the clouds as though a harried mother with a lantern: knocking on doors, calling out in garbled vain, seeking help from anyone that could help her find her missing son.

But he’d been long buried.

Geto Suguru stands before a grave.

He doesn’t know which cemetery this is - certainly nothing in Tokyo, nothing near where he’d buried his parents’ bodies himself. Just as he had killed them. It seems rather to be some sort of unmarked patch of land, where even the memories of souls went to die. Deader than dead. Darker than night. Done deal.

He looks around in alarm and finds that he wasn’t alone, beside him but unknowing that they were: Gojo Satoru, Shoko Ieri, Masamichi Yaga, and you. All of you with the surroundings to your eyes swollen and the whites within all red. 

He could tell you all had been crying.

Yet another tear slips from behind Gojo’s mask.

You’re sobbing into your hands.

Gojo rests an arm around your shoulder and brings you soothingly to him, to which Geto can’t believe that he feels that stab of selfish jealousy. He wants to touch you. He wants to touch you. He wanted to touch you.

He’s wrenching his eyes away from the tragic sight and surveying his surroundings - it really was a dead place. Dreadful. It wouldn’t have been made more joyous a setting had it been a birthday celebration thrown there instead. Behind the solitary tree in the distance that stuck out like a spindly hand from the ground was Nanako and Mimiko, watching the procession hidden.

He wonders why they were—behind him, a hooded figure.

Nothing but a shadow grown from his own. He could see no face, he could feel no emotion, he could feel no warmth. So this must be the ghost of his future.

Even in the distance, he could smell the metal tang of mortals without cursed energy milling about with their lives. Humans. 

“Spirit…” Geto rasps out, somewhat shocked that his voice was working in the first place. “Who is the man lying in this grave?”

There’s a sudden crash! of thunder as if the sky was collapsing in on itself. There’s a sudden gale of wind as if the world itself was howling in laughter at his question- and Geto’s thrown against the sheer force of it, just as the hooded figure’s skeletal hand stretches out and points directly at the emotionless gravestone. Blank. 

Words write themselves into the stony slab, in a script that only Geto seemed to be able to see - for no one in the funeral procession moved an inch.

It writes—

Geto Suguru.

“No…” Geto’s voice leaves him. He whirls around to face the masked figure, “It’s me- it’s me—and yet, why show me the memories of my past and present if I am to die? Why give me false hope that I may change?”

And with another clap of thunder, the rest of the writing reveals itself.

Born: 3rd of February, 1990.

“I am not the man I was-” Geto seethes, feeling as though his sanity was starting to slip him. The spectre doesn’t show any sign of hearing his pleas, he fights against the icy winds. “I am not the man I once was and I demand you answer my one question- are these the shadows of things that may be? Or the shadows of things that will be?”

Until the storm trundles its last line.

Died: 24th of December—

Geto feels his blood run cold.

Tonight. He was to die tonight.

He blinks again and none of you all are here, the only thing that greets him is the sight of the ground splitting up where his grave was meant to be—opening up for him. A gaping abyss. A maw of death. Its splintering reaches the tips of his very feet, and the dark-haired man stumbles precariously- struggling not to fall inside-

A bony hand on his shoulder steadies him. Death-cold. 

Geto looks back slowly as the ghost of his future tugs back on his hood. 

To reveal the spitting image of…Geto Suguru. His mirror reflection, if a little more menacing, with a strange line of stitches decorating the top of his forehead. It was himself. 

And it was he who pushes himself into the grave.

He who sees the shreds and snippets of more grief, and new students, and a pink-haired boy with immense power much like his, and a shutdown in Shibuya, the deaths of his daughters, something a far greater danger than he was, you running into Gojo’s arms once he’s unsealed, more grief, grief, grief, grief, death, death, death, death, death.

Darkness.

.

.

.

Light.

He wakes up in a cold sweat to the light of the hallway, Nanako and Mimiko who had arrived to wake him up in time for his attack.

The first thing that Geto Suguru does after waking up from death is hug his daughters long and tight and promise them that everything will be okay. The second thing he does is cancel his plans to wage war on all non-sorcerers.

The third thing he does is run to your room.

.

.

.

You’d walked all the way up to your door with your packed bags when Geto Suguru had flung it open.

Your eyes snap down to the creaking door hinges—you were sure you’d locked it shut earlier in the night. Unsure you could handle more of this very man you loved walking inside.

But here he was.

Towering at your door frame.

Heaving hard enough that this breath tickles your face.

Looking as if he’d just seen a ghost-

“S-Suguru?” You ask with bated breath, and he’s snapping his eyes up to meet yours in an instant. The pure animal thrill that runs down your spine barely even has the time to register before Geto’s predatory body lunges towards you-

Your bags are on the floor.

Your knees are hitting your bed.

Falling backwards with Geto’s feverish body on top of yours.

Pouncing on you like an animal that’d just cornered his prey, gasping straight into the crook of your neck. He noses down the column of your throat and driiiiiiinks you in, mouth watering at the mere scent of you. “Please-” It’s a garbled, choked up groan that sends zaps of electricity straight to where your pussy was growing wet. “Please let me-”

“Yes—” You’re breathing out, heart hammering at your chest. You weave your fingers into Geto’s sweaty black locks like all those years ago, “Yes yes yes-”

“Fuck.” And he flinches as if your very confirmation sets his entire body on fire.

Rapid, ravenous fire. In absolutely no time, Geto’s shoving you further up the bed with his pawing hands and spreading your shaky legs wide open.

You never realized he was just so strong until you had both of Geto Suguru’s roughened hands pinning your thighs to the mattress. Unmoving even a single inch with him. Merciless. 

You were in this cute lil’ skirt that you’d thrown on right before leaving, and he’s rip-rip-riiiiiipping it straight off of you with absolutely no care or concern as to whether the noise would echo out until the other association members would hear. 

Throwing it somewhere over his shoulder, he’s pinning your shifting hips down and shoving his pretty face nose-deep into your clothed cunt. “M-mmmpf! Suguru-”

“Wanted to do this for so long.” He rasps out, voice just a slightly higher pitch as if he himself couldn’t believe it. Geto isn’t using his tongue on you immediately, he’s sticking the prominent line of his nosebridge between the crevice of your cunt and simply spending his time sniffing at your wet pussy.

Just so filthy.

You gasp as you feel the cold breeze of him taking in your dewy scent and groaning at the perfume of it. “Wh-what are you-”

“Wanted to do this for so long.” Merely repeating, you’re then shut up by the vertical sensation of his nose rubbin’ up and down that sopping slit. Aaaaaall the way from the bottom to the top where your throbbing clit was. Letting the sheeny wetness of your juices seep right through your panties and drench him already, “For so long for so long f-for—”

And then a speck of your slick falls into his mouth, and the very first time Geto’s tasting your pussy he’s stuttering. Voice breaking. 

The Geto Suguru who could hold speeches before the tens of thousands in his association without a hitch - he was tasting your pussy through your drenched underwear and going absolutely speechless. Thoughtless. 

Simply moving on pure animal instinct as he bites down on the thin fabric with a snarl- tearing right through your panties to get to your naked pussy. Exposing it all for him to see and admire and spit down on. 

Exposing it all for him to lean down and press a hot, open-mouthed kiss on top—mwah!

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

And the fourth is what it takes for Geto to reach his limit and shove the tip of his pinkish wet tongue between your swollen pussylips. Like two more puckered lips kissin’ him back, Geto’s moaning primally at the back of his throat the moment he feels your tight hole start to squeeze him—so tight that he might not even fit-

“Wanted to f-fit inside so badly.” He gasps out thickly, drool glimmering down either side of his lips. You almost have half the mind to ask whether Geto Suguru was pussydrunk already, “Always dreamt about fitting inside your pussy like this-”

“F-fuuuuck, Suguru.” You’re whining, back throwing in the air into the perfect curvature.

And Geto only holds down one side of your hips and keeps you pinned down to his face, using your bouncy flinches to fuck your pussy back down on his face. “Always wondered how tight you’d squeeze me. Always wondered what it’d f-feel like to have you ngh- wet on my face like this-”

“You seriously have the filthiest mouth—” You gasp, blinking down at him through your tears. “What do you even mean ‘always’-”

“Always.” He emphasizes, leveraging your hips down to drag against his attractive features. It leaves a snail-trail of glittery slick that drips down the point of his nose- and Geto feels your velvety walls clench down on his tongue in resistance one last time before he’s fishing his tongue back out.

Making you shiver with the sudden emptiness, you’re just starting to miss his hot girth inside of you before his fingertips come back down—smack! Soothing over the sting that makes you yelp, he hisses out as if the strike had hurt a part of him as well. “Always being…” You wait for his answer with your heart thundering at your throat (and your pussy). “-since I ever even knew what eatin’ out a pussy was.”

“Oh—” You’re blubbering out stupidly when Geto ruthlessly pulls your pussylips aside with his two fingers.

Stretchin’ your hole out to take his fat tongue with absolutely no practice- merely letting his slimy crown slip inside before bashing and bashing every inch of your walls he could reach. “Always wanted it to be- hah, you- your pussy.” Geto’s blabbering out between every rapidfire thrust of his tongue, grunting between every breath as if moving away to even breathe was painful. “Ridin’ my face just like this, mmmmm.”

The most lecherous slurps! and sounds kept on pouring out of you - ones that you didn’t even know were possible for you to make. 

It rings out in the cozy bedroom like a backtrack that he wanted to record as his favorite song - his girl’s pussy. “Yeahhh, always wanted to get that pussy o’ yours to speak up t’me- heh.” Pistoning your tight channel with his rugged tongue, “Always wanted to let my tongue speak fer itself. Always wanted to memorize all your pussy’s sweetest spots just right.”

Just then you’re hiccuping as he swabs a spot besides a particular bundle of nerves, making sobs clog up in your throat. “O-oh, Suguru!”

“Yeah- always wanted to have you moan my name like that, ngh.” Grumbling out, the tips of his long canines end up snagging on your tender folds and making you sob. “Always wanted—fuck.”

A pin-pricking sensation that made you gush out in even more arousal against his face, drenching him all the way down to the bedsheets. “Suguru, I think you’re getting exactly what you wanted-”

“Not quite.” He growls out, and your mind gets thrown into a frenzy by the sheer amount of vibrations travelling up from your treacly cunt. Geto stares you deeply in the eyes with his dark, dilated pupils as he finishes off—“If I could have it exactly how I wanted it, then every man before me would be here and watching just how much I ruin you, gorgeous.”

The very tip of his flexible tongue just grazes your g-spot and makes you cry out, “You’re almost there- a-almost there, just a bit to the left-”

“I know.” Geto grins - and you can feel it against your sopping wet lips. “You think I didn’t read up on this years before?”

And in absolutely no time, Geto has his tongue plunging back out of your snug channel- though, not without a few more pushes n’ pulls that leave you reeling. Almost as if he couldn’t bear to part with his greedy maw with your pussy just yet.

Before completely spittin’ on your cunt and shoving two of his slender fingers inside your hole. 

It’s a direct hit. Gliding all down your walls before you’re finally ending up with the cult leader’s knobbly fingertips pushin’ down on your g-spot as if it was nothing but a cute button for him to toy with. “I’ve always wanted to eat this fuck- pussy of yours out, and you think I didn’t do a little bit of reading up?” He’s gurgling out, lips plastering onto your clit. “Of course I did- of course I did.”

“You did you did—!” You’re whining out, your jaw dropping straight down to hit your chest with the way he had you fucked stupid with his fingers.

And he seriously did.

His honed digits were drag-drag-draaaagging viciously back and forth, letting the curves of his joints massage your velvety walls whilst he hit your nerves constantly like a target. “Always wanted to be the best this cunt’s ever- ngh, kissed. Always wanted t-to mark my spot out so you can feel me messin’ up your pretty insides even when m’not eating you out. Always wanted to eat you out until I’ve lapped every other man away from inside you-” 

“Y-you don’t have to worry about them, Suguru.” You gasp out, face twitching with pleasure when that only makes him plunge and pull his lengthy fingers even harder in response.

And Geto knows you’re simply talking about anyone else simply in response to his own words - but that doesn’t stop the irrational stab of jealousy. He attempts to fuck you dumb, but you’re stubbornly digging the feels of your feet into the sheets and bucking. “You don’t have to worry about a single one because-”

“Because—?”

“They’ve never made me cum.”

Oh.

Oh.

And you’ve never quite felt anything like the way that the utterly ruined look in Geto’s eyes made you feel. A zap of something carnal shuddering down your spine.

Before Geto’s tuggin’ his hand back to pry aside your soaked pussylips- before he’s pursuing his now-swollen lips and spitting- before he’s filling up every single orifice inside of you by thrusting back in not just two, not even three, but four of his incredible fingers.

You’re shrilling out at the stretch that makes you see stars behind your lids, pupils swirling within the whites of your eyes.

And Geto’s dark brows knit together, a thin line of sweat trailing between them as he gluttonously stares down at the way your hole was just stretched so wiiiiiide-wide-wide for him. “Fit.” He spits through a growl, “Fucking fit-”

“S’going in—” You’re mewling out, your head throwing back into pillows that were now drenched with your sweat. “Oh- oh my god, it’s going in-”

“Want it to.” Geto echoes out broken fragments of his usual mantra, “Need it to- I’ve been talking s’much about what I want, but this is what I need.” He just sounded so desperate—a man begging with his shattered throat.

He’s lavishing his tongue down along the slit of your pussy and rollin’ sweetly over your clit- making the sharp bolts of pleasure shock you into taking him inch by solid inch. Only faintly aware in his mind that you were struggling to take his sheer size, “Always wanted you to take f-four of my fingers. My lucky number. Always wanted you to fit all of my- ngh- dick—”

“Wha’s that gotta do with fitting four fingers, Suguru?” Stupidly questioning, your head lolling from side to side as he ruts from within.

And for that your naughty pussy gets a gooood spank.

“How else would you fit my cock inside if you can’t even fit my fist?”

And was he fitting his—no, you’re finding out that that was all just a tactic to disarm you into looking down. Into locking sights with your glistening wet pussy in the exact moment that Geto Suguru shovels all four of his fingers inside with just the loudest, most lecherous sound.

He’s on your cunt immediately- lapping up every stray bead of slick that sprays out of you, sliding his puffy lips down your slit and at your gooey orifice where you were taking his mean fingers, gluing ‘round your clit and sucking.

Geto’s handsome cheeks hollow around that sensitive nub and you sob, pushing his sweaty bangs out of his face. “Sh-shit- Suguru, I don’t think m’gonna last too long…”

To that he doesn’t even answer.

Only increasing his sloppy ministrations until you can barely even keep a grip on his hair-

His free hand reaches out to hold you down onto his scalp- almost as if he was telling you to go wild using him. “You want me to…” He merely nods at your wobbly question, nose crinkling in carnal amusement at the surprised look on your face. Grabbing two handfuls of Geto’s long, beautiful hair you’re using it as leverage to properly fuck your honeyed cunt back, back, back into him. “Please- p-please let me cum-”

As if he’d do anything but.

Anything but eat your pussy out like a madman. Drilling every inch of his fingers inside you and swervin’ those calloused buds around and around. Smoothing out each tiny crevice. Bruising them. Letting them memorize the pattern of his unique fingerprint—

With a few more vulgar strokes, you’re finally toppling over the edge of your high. “Cumming-” You sing out, your bed creaking in synchronization with the way you were rutting back needily onto his face. “Cumming cumming cumming-” Chasing your high.

“Mmmm—” Geto’s purposefully moaning around your clit and making your body shake with your orgasm. “Always wanted-”

“Yes yes yes-” Hiccuping through your tears, your heartbeat thumps away in your ears. It felt like every droplet of blood in your body had amplified and suddenly you were about to burst with pressure.

“Always wanted to-”

Tears roll uncontrollably down your cheeks at the way he somehow managed to strike your g-spot precisely during the peaks of your orgasm- making the waves of bliss last longer and overtake you. “Yes- keep going keep going-”

“Always wanted to make you cum a second time in my mouth.”

You gasp, “What?”

But the only answer you’re getting is Geto’s strong arms manhandling you deeper against his face and lashing his slick-glazed fingers into your deepest depths. Zig-zagging inside. Scissoring two by two apart so your cunt’s stretched out like never before.

These prolonged digits were just so stretched in your dewy juices by now that it made it easy for Geto to move them back and forth at a blurring pace. “Always wanted it-” He gasps, that sinful mantra again that you knew didn’t bode well for your sanity. “Always wanted to have you o-overstimulated enough that you- mmm, cry.”

“But I already am-”

“Overstimulated enough that you can’t even remember your own name—”

“Oh, fuck…” You whimper.

Though you were slowly getting there with each ravenous rut of Geto’s digits. As he’s pinning you down and fishing your most delicate spots with his fingers, you feel those spit-slicked lips of his wrap around your clit. “And you only hafta- mmm-” He groans out against that sensitive nub, the mushy tip of his tongue drawing out what seemed like an obvious ‘G.S.’ on your clit. “-remember my name- because s’what you’ll be taking, anyway.”

And you don’t even realize that you’re crashing right into your second high of the night until Geto’s eyes seem to light up. A soft chuckle leaving him-

“Always knew you could do it.” He fingers you ruthlessly through that one, too. Puckered fingerpads ending up at your g-spot between each wave of bliss, almost glued there. “Always knew- fuck. And what’s your name, gorgeous?”

“M-my name?” You’re babbling out eyes dazed and merely taking the oncoming pleasure.

“Mhmm—your name, gorgeous.” He spanks your clit with his free hand, “Now.”

“I can’t…” Pouting out in a way that he just found too cute, “I can’t seem to remember-” Your mind was truly hazed, sparking uselessly and registering nothing but the feeling of his fingers and mouth. Just too good.

“Oh, you’re dumbified alright-” He titters, finally letting go of your treacly cunt once he feels your high bate. Geto removes his mouth with a soppy mwahhhh- “My poor girl can’t even remember her own name- s’alright, I’ll teach you.”

You squirm, “Y-you will?”

“Yeah.” Geto pins your restless hips down and raises himself - face all flushed and lacquered with a clingy few layers of your sap. It dribbles down the edge of his chin as he kisses you firmly on the mouth, “Say it w’me now-”

“Mhm—”

“Mrs. Geto Suguru.” At least you would be in the future he’s creating.

Oh, he was just mean. And you’re whining helplessly into the kiss when he bites down on your lower lip with his sharp canines, blubbering some jumbled repetition of—“M-mrs. Geto- ngh, Suguru.”

“My good girl.”

Geto pulls away and finally starts shedding the rest of his clothing- to which you motion to try and do the same for yourself, but he’s merely stopping your hands then and there. Then and there teeeearing down that t-shirt of yours that was really his, and unhooking your bra with a single motion behind your back-

“S-seriously, what’s gotten into you tonight, Suguru?” You’re gasping out as the cold night air hits your exposed body and makes your nipples harden.

He’s placing two singular kisses on both your tits before answering, “Let’s just say, mmm, I saw the future.”

“Saw the future?” You gape - could someone really get this pussydrunk? Maybe he’d actually gone mad…“Suguru, are you oka-”

“No.” Taking care of the robes that he’d worn to bed, you’re realizing that Geto wasn’t wearing underwear once he discards of that singular soft layer. And it wasn’t exactly a secret that Geto Suguru was positively chiselled - you knew that sort of vigorous strength and agility training that he did. Had to do.

So it was not much of a surprise to you once you see his firmly toned pecs, flinching slightly at the cold. His washboard abs. His meaty thighs. His Herculean body that was covered in a thin film of sweat that made him look almost otherworldly.

You’re not even done gawking at the muscular rest of him before a sudden glimmer of creamy precum makes your gaze drop down to…his cock.

Standing upright.

Rock-hard and veiny.

The most furious red shade on his tip.

The excess of his precum coating him n’ all his veins in a glistening sheen.

The slightest tufts of messy black at his base, from which Geto’s greedy balls throbbed. He was so hard that it looked like it physically hurt. That globular tip of his smacked the front of his abs and left a splotchy wet smear that you almost wanted to lick away, and you’re mindlessly reaching forwards to do so when-

“And did you know what I saw in the future, gorgeous?” Geto’s gruff voice startles you out of your little reverie, making you shake your head ‘no’. He then places two hands on your hips to drag you down the bed and meet his toned hips, “Well- heh, I can’t really tell you that yet, my girl. But I’ll tell you what I didn’t see…”

Your mind was absolute mush and you’re trilling. “Wh-what was that, Suguru?”

“You. Pregnant.”

He puckers his red, thickened cockhead against your hole. Slightly rutting against it like an animal.

“So how about we fix that?”

And then he’s pumping in just the first inch of his thiiiick reddened cock, making your plush hole stretch out into the same wide ‘o’ that he was fucking your cunt into. His bulging tip. The meanest kiss. 

Geto feels the hotness of your pussy clench ‘round him and grooooans, letting his head fall in front of him to cover the two of you with his inky black hair like a curtain. “O-oh.” His entire heaving body wracks with shivers, as if merely the first feeling of your cunt broke him. Goosebumps prickle across every inch of his skin. Cock pulsating inside you a mile a minute. “Fuck, your pussy’s so good. Your pussy’s so good I almost forgot how badly I wanted to do this-”

“Do what—oh.” The words are barely out of your mouth before Geto’s hands are on you.

Like never before, he’s gripping your thighs so hard that it’s almost painful. Feeling his neat crescent nail marks embed against your skin, “Put you…” Geto trails off in his gruff tone, breath hitching any time he was half-rutting inside. Just probin’ with his swollen erection, “In a liiiiittle something called a…”

“In a…” But you already know what he’s trying to say.

Because Geto’s strong arms are on you in an instant. Flexing and bulging any time he’s moving you ‘round as if you were nothing but a ragdoll.

He rests both your tired thighs on top of his broad shoulders, tapping one of them on the sides. “Lock those ankles f’me…mmm, good.” Bending you all the way dooooown in half until your joints pop with pressure and the caps of your knees are hitting your tits. “Bend all the way like thaaaat- in half now, in half.”

“I am I am-” You hiccup. And though he hadn’t even bottomed out, this made Geto’s blushin’ tip stab deep enough that you nearly feel him in your throat.

Just fucking and fucking and fucking you.

Quickly, sloppy ruts just to fit himself inside.

With a low chuckle, he’s lacing both hands atop your sweaty crown. “Mhm- and fuck- y’know what this is called? Always wanted to put you in one of these, gorgeous- y’know it? It’s called a—”

“M-mating press.” You mewl out.

And Geto’s roughly stroking out a thrust that makes you see stars, “And who taught you that, hm?” He’s hissing out between clenched canines, something in his tone that sends shivers down your spine. “Some other man put you in one of- hah, these?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your damn skull, “N-no, never! That’s not how I-”

“Fuckin’ good.” He rumbles out, leaning down to catch your lips in a sultry, sultry kiss. But Geto was just feeling so mean at this very moment that he’s snagging your lower lip with his teeth and dragging. “And it better stay that way because I’m the one tha’s been wanting to breed this pretty pussy for so long-”

“I know, Suguru, I know.” You sob out—tears freefalling down your cheeks faster than you could even register them due to the sheer size of him - and the fact that your sultry pussylips couldn’t stop simply suckin’ him in. “Fuck you’re going in so deep- c-can almost feel you at my-”

“Cute lil’ womb, right?”

And you’re hearing Geto Suguru bottom out inside you before you’re actually registering it using your muddled brain. It’s with the sloppiest squeeeelch! that all his veiny nine inches are sucked up to the bottom of your pussy.

All of him throbbing inside you.

The very lining of your cervix is being banged by his rounded red tip, drivelling out slick deep at your core. “H-heh…” Geto’s letting out a drunken giggle, somehow angling his hips so that his pointed cockhead moves in circular motions. Making you feel him eeeeeverywhere in your awaiting womb, “I hope you know that I’m a jealous man, my girl.” He’d be damned if he let any other man fuck you full of his cum first. “And I’ve claimed this pretty womb first.”

Your jaw drops, “Like you’ve always wanted to?”

“Like I’ve always wanted to.” He grins, something so sleazy that you never thought you’d see on his pretty, pretty face.

And without hesitation, Geto’s dragging and dragging all the way back out to…pull out?

You’re opening your eyes in confusion, your disappointed noise barely out of your lips before Geto’s fully thrusting back in. Red tip to thick base.

Again. And again. And again and again-

He’s fucking into you like a madman, simply pointed swipes of his cock trying to find your sweetest spots. It’s with no issue that he’s stretchin’ out every line and crevice along those soft walls of yours, letting the sheer thickness of his shaft rub up against your nerves.

The patterns of his veins sending white-hot stars sparking up your spine, tears beading at the corners of your eyelids. “Yes- fuck, it feels so good.”

“Mmm, you like that?” Geto’s gasping out, the edges of his kiss-swollen lips twitching up into a smirk. He’s almost immediately getting his answer, however, by the way your sopping wet pussy only seems to glisten out in even more wads of slick.

Slipping in miry ribbons down the slit of your cunt and getting smeared on his thick base. He drawls out, “Yeahhh, f-feels good, doesn’t it? Ngh- I’ve always wanted to hit this pussy’s cervix. I’ve always wanted to let this womb of yours know that I’m gonna be the one to breed her all full—me.”

Because god fucking dammit he might’ve seen the worst possible outcome of his entire life in his future, one that he himself had barely even entertained prior. But fuck- if he isn’t going to do everything in his power to make sure that he makes of his future what he wants it to be. 

If he isn’t going to make sure that he has you in it.

And if a little bundle of chaos with his hair and your smile was in the picture as well, then, that only made his daydreams all the more sweeter.

Fuck, he never realized how badly he wanted it.

A baby—to fuck you so full of his baby. He’s pinpointing every single spot inside you with his massive tip, more and more of the black-haired man’s precum escaping from your hole by the second.

Almost unthinkingly, Geto lifts a hand off of your scalp and grunts- “Don’t think of running now, gorgeous.” Before bringing his slightly roughened palm down the front of your core, resting right over where his thick tip bulged your pussy’s walls. Your cervix. Your womb. “Fuck- I’ve always wanted- here-”

“What was that, Suguru?” Slightly taken aback at how the ever-eloquent Geto Suguru was having a hard time keeping his sentences coherent.

He presses down firmer above your stomach, feeling himself as he sinks iiiiiiiin and out of your cunt. Almost slowing down until you could feel every sensual texture of his cock, “Right here.” The pressure was almost incredible with the addition of his hand, “Right here- s’the spot. I’ve always wanted to fill you up until every woman, man, person, animal in-between could take one look at you and know what I’ve done to you.”

“O-ohhhh my god—” Whatever little response was on the tip of your tongue is instantly being swallowed up by your uncontrollable moans.

Escaping out of you whenever Geto funnels his achin’ cock harder, deeper, more sinfully in. Escaping out of you when Geto simply reached over and pinched your poor neglected clit.

He doesn’t feel a single inkling of regret as he tug on that cute lil’ knob between your pussylips whilst he fucks you, “I’ve always wanted to see what you’d look like with my- ngh, cum spilling out of you because your poor pussy can’t take it. And have others try to imagine what it looks like.” 

“There’s already so much-” You’re wailing out at the feeling of such heaps of syrup splosh out between your legs as if a waterpark.

And Geto’s taking just one look between them and snickering to himself, “Even more, gorgeous.” The way he said it made you realize that it wasn’t just a promise - to him it was a challenge. And he was ploughing right on, “So much more- so much more. Enough to end up with you all round and glowing and they’ll know that I did it. I filled you up like that. I did it I did it I did it-”

“Suguru, p-pleeeease—”

“They need to know that you’re mine.” He rasps out, his pinkish divot ending up shot straight against your g-spot. Hitting that particular area of sensitivity perfectly, “You were mine then. You’re mine now. And you’ll be mine in the future.” Your cunt suffering from the brutal slashes of his mushroomy tip after each word, the breaths between spaces being filled up with his accurate thrusts. “And if I fuck you pregnant that’s all they’re gonna be thinking about, isnt it?”

Fuck, it almost felt like he was going insane.

With every word out of his mouth, with every gluey wad of pre he was emptying out into your womb. Not only did that glimpse into the future make him want to avoid it—now he simply couldn’t have a future for himself if it didn’t include you, his daughters, and this all-new addition to the Geto lineage. He wonders who his third daughter would take after more.

“H-hope s’gonna be your pretty eyes and your smile- always wanted a daughter with that beautiful smile.” Geto muses out, holding you even tighter in this mating press. It felt like all the blood was rushing to your head, and you could feel your stomach starting to spark with an all-new high. 

“Oh please-” You start to sputter out, “Suguru, m’gonna c-cum again soon-”

“So do it then.” He certainly wasn’t gonna stop you - especially not after that old wives’ tale he heard that the wife had to cum, too, in order for a baby to be conceived.

And Geto wasn’t taking any chances here.

He was twisting his fingers even more fervently on your clit, and bashin’ your g-spot so many times that you’re sure it’s starting to bruise. “I know it- I just know it.” He babbles on, more pussydrunken than ever. “I just know it, gorgeous, if m’ever seeing my future again then it’s gonna be with you—”

“Suguru…” You mewl tearily, feeling a lump at your throat where his rounded tip seemed to be plummeting straight through to your lungs.

“You and my three daughters. On Christmas eve. Around the Christmas tree. Opening up presents we wrapped the night before-” Just as he imagines it, his strawberry-red tip spurts out a few warm ribbons of slick that splosh! around your channel. Keeping his hand pressed to your womb and humming, “With another one on the way, hm?”

You gawk, “Y-you’re insatiable.”

“That I am.”

And Geto doesn’t even realize the way his body instinctively pours out reverse cursed energy into yours to keep you from fucking breaking underneath his strength.

From fucking passing out as he’s rutting ferally harder and harder.

The bed groans heavily at the movements of his hulking body.

Leaning in so close now that you could feel the skin of your face start to perspire because of his breaths. Geto’s forehead pressed against yours, Geto’s cocktip pressed against the end of your cervix “Hope she’s gonna love her pretty momma just as- haaaah, I do.”

And then you’re crash-landing into your high without warning, without any signal from your own body that you were going to do so. It zips through your veins at lightning speed, completely taking over your brain until it felt all fuzzy and fried.

Toes curling.

Back arching.

He fucks you through this nth high of the night just as sinfully as he did with all the others - just as perfectly. Somehow swabbin’ your gooey crevices right on time with the peaks of your euphoria, he manages to pump his plump tip towards your g-spot and your womb at a dizzying pace.

At a pace that leaves you cockdrunk.

Your body twitches with the twinges of pleasure, sobbing. “Please-” You’re wrapping your arms around Geto’s neck, pushing his inky locks slightly to the side. “I love you too, Suguru.”

And that’s all it takes for Geto to also grit his teeth and let his throat rip with a guttural groan as he finally cums. Exploding out in white-hot pleasure and in the gooey white wads that occupy the space within your tight cunt. There was simply so much of it that you didn’t know what to do with yourself, his loooooooong miry ribbons splashin’ against the roof of your cunt and dribblin’ down every orifice possibly inside you. “Fuck, don’t even say that.” His voice was octaves higher by this point, completely maddened. “Don’t even—oh, don’t even know what you do to me.”

“I’ve always wanted to tell you.” You’re taking his own chant from him.

And that only makes his heavy balls throb even harder, as if he was emptying out all his ivory syrup and still wished there was more.

Despite the constant overflow from your hole, a sheeny circle escaping down your thighs and gluing the skin together- at least, it would have had it not been for Geto’s fingertips scooping up that slick glaze and pushing it back inside your cunt. 

The doughy tips of his fingers curl against your elastic hole and make you shiver- still so sensitive from your ongoing high. Not that Geto even hesitates before putting his all into fucking you through his own—pounding every wad of his seed inside you. His cock glazes with even more slick, making slipping inside you even easier. “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.” And he titters to himself as if there was a joke there that you didn’t entirely understand, “And I would ask for n-no sweeter death, my girl…” Was that a tear running down his cheek?

You’re pressing your forehead to his, eyes fluttering shut. You still shook with the tremors of your orgasm, but still managed to keep your tone even. “I’d never ask for that, Suguru.”

“I know.”

Outside, it was a dark night greeting the 25th of December.

.

.

.

24th of December, Christmas Eve (one year later).

“Hurry hurry, all according to plan—!” Your voice calls out across the cozy Tokyo apartment, slightly muffled by the pile of gifts you carried that was as tall as you. 

Geto’s taking one look at your teetering self and chuckling, “Here- let me take that from you, gorgeous.” As handsome as ever. A Santa hat on his head.

And though you admit that it was an incredible relief to your arms to have your husband take the burden of the gifts, you can’t help but sweep a glance over the apartment. Pondering out loud about all the other tasks that were supposed to be done before 7PM- “But, Suguru, let me! You worry about getting all the stockings ready-”

“Already stuffed to the brim, my girl.” He winks at you, and you suddenly feel too hot underneath your appallingly ugly Christmas sweater (it had been a gift from Yaga, how could you not have worn it tonight?)

You raise a suspicious brow, “Everyone’s? Ours, Nanako’s, Mimiko’s, and the baby’s?”

What a spoiled little girl! Only three months old and already having a Christmas stocking larger than her own self, Geto wants to say - but doesn’t. He knows he’s just as guilty as you in spoiling your three daughters, “Ours, Nanako’s Mimiko’s, and the baby’s, and Satoru’s- you know how he gets when he sees candy that’s not for him.”

“You’re right.” You agree, “And what about setting the table-”

“Done.”

“Getting the twins to clean their rooms-”

“Done.”

“Finishing decorating the Christmas tree-”

“Done.”

“Oh! How about finally setting that letter of confirmation for your post as new teacher at Tokyo Jujustu-”

“Done. Done. Aaaaand done.” Geto smiles, setting the gifts down underneath the table in a way that seemed so effortless. It must be the training, how unfair! When he’s standing back up again it’s with an arm thrown around your shoulder, the both of you admiring the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree you’d set up as a family.

Its lights sparkled like miniature suns, like candles from a night unforgettable. Customized baubles of marine animals and ocean-blue. The portraits of friends and family lost. “We’ve done everything, gorgeous. Now we only wait for them to get here.”

“It’s beautiful, Suguru.” You respond, and he only pulls you closer.

Resting his cheek against the top of your head, “I know.”

Nanako and Mimiko were still getting ready for the Christmas party and you knew you had to fetch them soon before the guests got here, you knew you also had to wake the baby up from her nap to get her into the Christmas festivities with everyone else, you also knew you had to check on some of the fruit tarts right now, you knew you had to congratulate Geto properly on finally earning his position as a third-year teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High after many examinations and meetings with the elders. After many days spent proving his change.

It had been tough, you admit. In many ways.

But you were here.

But, for now, you two simply bask in each other.

You’re not sure how long it is before the doorbell rings and you’re forced apart. 

“We should…get the door.” You say.

“Mhm, we should.” And he kisses you.

“Santa’s kissing mommy, totally gross!” Nanako calls out as she passes the two of you, finally finished getting ready and heading to the kitchen to snag some desserts before it was actually time.

Mimiko follows with your cooing third daughter in hand, “Don’t look unless you want your spirit of Christmas to be scarred for life.” She tells the near-infant seriously.

“Come now, you two.” Geto sighs, shaking his head like the father he was.

You’re giggling softly up at him until the bell rings once again- before immediately starting to get rung at an annoying staccato. Gojo. Then immediately stopped as if someone had just smacked his hand away from the bell. Shoko.

And you already knew by the two hefty sighs that Yaga and Nanami were there, too.

Stifling your giggle, you and Geto walk up to open the decorated front door. Both of you opening it in unison—

“Merry Christmas!”

A/N. Awww I just rewatched this movie the other day and it was too sweeeeet. Hope all of you are having a joyous season regardless of whether you celebrate or not <33

The man in front of him can do nothing but yelp in fear, “I- it could- the scale of ah-”

“No.” The freezing cold blade presses deeper against skin. And Satoru’s tutting, “Try again.”

“Th-the madam!” Pathetic tears stain those expensive tatami mats below, every shred of previous ego wiped away as the elder’s forced to echo his words. “It is no lie that her b-background is…unsuitable-”

Oh this was why Satoru hated these meetings - and for once in his life he’d been the one to summon it instead of being forced to attend. What a joke. If only this elder had agreed to vacate everyone in the Estate like he’d wanted, then none of this would’ve happened. Seriously, how hard was it to get some alone time with you? 

Satoru sighs, blue yukata rustling as he grips the hilt tighter. “Do you know why you’re here, advisor? Why any of you little council of elders are still here?” And he doesn’t wait for an answer - couldn’t care less about it anyway. Plowing on in that same sweet, dangerous tone - as if scolding a stubborn child, “My lovely wife is kind, you see. Too kind. Doesn’t like for me to get my hands dirty.”

He lets his arm retract slightly, as if giving up on the conversation topic at hand. And oh for all his wisdom, the elder should’ve known better than to let the silence lull into one of safety. Should’ve known better than to let out a breath of relief. Relaxing - ever-so-slightly, to be stupid enough to mutter, “S-see young master. I told- you-”

Because this was Gojo Satoru, and he’s chuckling - and that was never a good sign for anyone but you. “She’d make such a perfect mother, don’t you think?”

---

SLAM!

You startle - there was only ever one person that dared to kick open the doors of the Gojo Estate that way, like he was out for blood.

Eyes tearing from your window towards the now-splintered doorway and-

Oh. Oh shit. 

Your voice dies in your throat as the metallic tang of blood hits your nose - followed very shortly by the realization that this was your husband. Towering figure leaning against the frame, gaze frantic - bouncing off everywhere but you, fingers twitching on the stained handle of his katana, looking for all the world like he’d seen a ghost. 

What the fuck happened?

“Satoru?” you breathe. And the sound of your voice his eyes finally snap to you - widening, like he’d finally noticed your figure standing there. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. Stepping forward in concern, “Are you o-”

You’ve barely made it two steps before Satoru’s closing the distance in a split-second, dropping to his knees before you with a harsh thump!

You wince at the sound, but if it hurt then he doesn’t show it. Anything but - in fact, looking more blissed out than you’ve ever seen him as he lets his prized katana clatter to the floor, looping two powerful arms around your waist.

And it’s times like this - when he nuzzles his cheek against your stomach, sighing in contentment - that you forget about those blossoming stains of red on his yukata. None of his, you bet. 

Threading your fingers through his soft hair, you repeat, “Are you okay, Toru?”

And oh. 

Oh, it only takes those words - and your sweet sweet voice - before Satoru’s entire body jolts. Taking a sharp inhale, fingers trembling as they clutch onto the fabric of your yukata. “An heir.” Words strained, ragged. Some deep, visceral part of himself peaking up at you through those hazy, half-lidded eyes, “Would you give me an heir, my wife?”

You weren’t making it out alive. 

You’re gasping - partially because of his words, partially because that’s all it takes for him to yank you down. Sprawling you out like such a slut on the floor. “Wha- an heir?”

It’s not something you expected him to even consider - that sleepy, quiet little pillowtalk from earlier today where you’d mindlessly wondered out loud whether your husband was ready for kids. Hell, Satoru was never a morning person, so you didn’t expect him to even have heard the question let alone this. 

Nosing at your racing pulse, whispering, “An heir. You think I’d ever deny you, pretty?” Like he couldn’t believe it himself - sharp canines nipping at your neck, “My heir.”

It’s like it was the only thing he could say - could even think about right now as his lips burned a path down your jaw, into the valley of your breasts. Muffled, “N’ now we have the Estate all to ourselves, so I can ruin you as much as I hah- want.”

And for the second time today, you’re actually registering that this wasn’t the same yukata your husband had kissed senseless in before the meeting. Or, at least, those patches of red were new.

“Satoru…” You pull his face back.

“No- no no please- Come back-” you squeal when he just drags you across the floor by the hips, pressing you up against that massive bulge, back to sloppily kissing the underside of your jaw. “Was jus’ one I swear- m’sorry about gettin’ the fabric dirty.”

“Satoru.”

“Wasn’t gonna break you where everyone could hear right?” 

And fuck he doesn’t wait to hear a response, no - it’s been far too long, and every little scold from you has all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his aching cock. His lips are crashing onto yours, so desperate and needy. 

“Sa-toru!” you manage to squeal through the way he sips at your candied lips. Letting out pained, breathless little grunts like each swipe of his tongue against your mouth was driving him insane. 

“Shhh shhh, m’here m’here.” he pants into your open mouth, hands wandering everywhere. Cupping your ass, your breasts, nudging open your jaw to let him suck so filthily on your tongue. “Fuck- m’here.” He’s licking up the drool pooling at the corner of your mouth already, “N’ m’gonna ruin-” One hand makes its way to palm your clothed cunt, “-her.”

But, alas, no matter how many times Satoru’s done this before - it never gets any easier, or as less heavenly of a sight for him. 

With you all disheveled and splayed out for him, your tits almost spilling out of your yukata with the way his hands have been so greedy. So thoughtless. 

Satoru groans, dipping his head forward to peck messily at your lips. “Mmm- ” Pulling back just enough to mutter, “Gonna let me breed this pretty cunt, hm?” 

It’s all you can do to give him a half-delirious little nod of agreement, lower lip wobbling at just how hungrily he was looking at you. Eyes wide, lips curling into a crazed smile, fingers trembling with anticipation as he deftly works on untying your robe. 

“Is my wife gonna give me a pretty baby?” He gasps out, strangled. “An heir?” He presses a sloppy peck to your glossy lips, strings of spit snapping when he breaks apart to whisper. “One to take out all these dumb fucks?” Again, so dizzyingly. And again. “Oh how I’d love to see their fuckin’ faces.” And again and again and again. Kisses punctuated by that little mantra - “An heir. My heir. I need you to give me a baby, pretty.”

And then your yukata’s being pulled down your shoulders, the expensive fabric ripping down the side with the way he was so ravenous. Goosebumps prickling down your skin as fast as Satoru can get his hands on every inch of you.

“Oh, look at you.” his jaw falls slack, palms kneading at your soft breasts. “Fuck- the mother of my kids.” He rolls his thumb over your hardened nipples, rubbing lazy little circles, “I need to- fuck!” 

Before you know it he’s pinning your arching body down onto the floor. One hand easily pinning down both of yours, the other angling your lips back onto his, a knee wedged between your damp thighs. 

You whine at the feeling of Satoru’s thigh rubbing up against your drenched panties.

But he could barely hear - fuck, you didn’t even know if Satoru was breathing with the way he wraps his pretty pink lips around one of your pert nipples. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, cheeks hollowing as he sucks - harsh.

“Need to fill these up- s’gonna be so sweet. So full.” he’s blabbering into your tits, tongue rolling around your sensitive nipples. Incessant, like he was somehow trying to draw out milk. “I can only hope they hah- share, right?”

You buck your hips up, mewling as your throbbing clit catches on the dips and curves of the muscles on Satoru’s leg. “P-please, Toru. Don’t tease.”

And oh, when has he ever denied you? Hell, Satoru would burn down this entire world and himself if it meant giving his wife anything and everything. Especially the future mother of his kids. 

With a final, playful bite, you watch with glassy eyes at the way he dances his lips down. Slow. Teasing. Eyes locked with you all the while like some sort of predator cornering his prey. 

“And this-” Satoru stops halfway down, pressing a deep, sultry kiss onto your bare stomach, “Oh this. Gonna be so round n’ pretty. Absolutely glowing f’me, right? Fuck!” 

Snapping his head down at the feeling of your grinding your hips so sluttily onto his legs, slick seeping through your panties and onto his skin. 

“Oh.” he sighs, awe-struck. More to himself than you at this point, “You can kill me if you’re not with my heir by the time we’re done, pretty.”

A promise.

And with it went whatever was left of Satoru’s poor sanity - and whatever pathetic chance there was of you making it out of this alive. 

Immediately, Satoru fists your flimsy panties in his grasp. So see-through they were practically useless anyway. Reveling in your panicked little gaze as he pulls - rips them clean off your dripping cunt. 

“Oh god- There we go.” he moans, hooking two arms underneath your legs and pushing up, up, up - all the way until your knees were pressing up against your tits. Your lips wobble when Satoru takes the time to admire your pussy, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs to watch the way you glisten and clench at nothing. Licking his lips - salivating even - at the sight of your slick beading through your puffy folds. He runs a thumb along your sopping wet slit, “Better wish her good luck tonight.”

And, usually, your husband was refined - he teased and toyed with your poor cunt until you were begging to have an ounce of friction. But right now, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get whiplash with how fast he’s pushing his face into your pussy.

“Mm-” Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his tongue laps at your dripping wet cunt. Tipping his head back, back, back to let your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. “Fuck that. Even luck won’t save you from me- hah-”

“Toru!” you arch off the cool floor as he cards the tip of his tongue between your puffy folds. From the base of your sloppy entrance, all the way up to your throbbing clit. “Hngh- s’too-”

He was going too fast too soon. 

You whine at the palm pushing your unstable hips flat onto the ground, holding you still while Satoru licks all over as he pleases. “Now now, how are ya gonna ngh- fuck so sweet- handle later if ya can’t even handle this, pretty?”

Sucking on your clit in such a messy, open-mouthed kiss. “Fuck. Shouldn’t have told me about an heir.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Harsh - rolling his tongue against the sensitive nub in a way he knows will have you crying out so prettily. “Fuuuck you shouldn’t h- oh- Ohhh, look at you, my wife.”, breathing in deep, ragged gasps of air only to go deeper. “Fuck- just look at you. You’re so wet I could fuck you just like this.”

As if to prove his point, he’s urgently bullying the tip of his tongue between your plushy walls. And it was true - so pathetically true. You take him in so easily. 

Somehow, you manage to crack an eye open to spy downwards - only to be met with Satoru’s eyes already on yours. Hazy, curtained by his messy hair, swollen lips curving up to flash you such a devilish grin as he squeezes his tongue past that feeble, first ring of resistance. In and out in and out in and-

“Ohh. Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight.” His jaw grinds deeper, nose flush against your clit. “Ya like that idea? Like the thought of me p-painting ah- slutty pussy white already?”

Your embarrassed little whine isn’t enough of an answer for your husband. No, he’s pressing his fingers - all glossy and covered with a sheen of your slick - onto your pulsing clit. Just barely grazing in a way that has you crying out. 

Making out with your cunt so sloppily, “Tha’s more like it.” Heavy eyes boring into yours - goading, even, for you to give more of a reaction. “Fuck- use those words, pretty. Scream.” Satoru’s fucking into your sloppy hole the way he’s been dreaming to do with his rock-hard cock. “After all, we h-have the Estate all to ourselves, right?”

Faster. Sloppier. 

Pushing and pulling his tongue in a way that has you sobbing, “Yes! Please- wan’- ngh” Thighs squeezing around Satoru’s fervent head, “W-wan you to jus’ breed me, Toru-”

Oh.

Fuck, you might’ve just signed your will away at this point. 

Because in a split-second, you’re cumming. 

Shit, were you glad that there was no one in the house. Sobbing out a broken whine of his name, fingers white-knuckled on Satoru’s hair while you gush all over his pretty face. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all over his mouth - using him through your high. 

And he’s more than happy to be dragged and angled all you please. Greedily lapping up your syrupy sweet juices, just dipping his tongue into your hole to feel the way you clench around him. 

But it’s not long before Satoru’s pulling away. Swallowing a disappointed whine, you gape up at the absolutely feral man looming above you. 

Lips plump and glossy, your juices dripping all the way down his chin, his jaw. Teeth bared, a pretty pink blush dusting over those cheeks - and you have half the mind to wonder how high the kill count actually is. Whether you’d be on it, too. 

“Heh, kill count?” Satoru grins, teeth grazing so dangerously over your racing pulse. Shit, did you say that out loud? “Funny, real funny.” And with that, he’s thumbing apart your swollen folds, biting his lips at the sight of your quivering hole. “Wonder if our- hah- kid’s gonna have your-” Without warning, he spits. Once. Twice. Gliding the pads of his fingers along the thick globs of spit on your cunt, “-humor?”

And oh how ironic it was for Satoru to be groaning out sweet little spiels of what your kids might look like, when his fingers were anything but. 

Stretching out your gummy entrance, having the audacity to laugh - laugh - at how desperately your pussy was trying to milk his fingers. 

“Y-you’re so mean-”

“And yer killin’ me- ohhh you’re gonna be the death of me.” he mutters - strained. Depraved. Hastily pushing apart his yukata. He hisses, “Fuck-”

You can’t help but gasp at the sinful sight before you - Satoru’s blush reaches down his sculpted chest, down, down, down all the way to his painfully hard cock. Curved against his abs, already so angry and soaked with precum. Giving you a pretty little peak of those veins glistening against the dim lighting. 

Before you even know what’s happening, he’s circling his fat, weepy head around your sloppy hole. Slow, lazy patterns to tease your cunt. “Can only pray m’not dead before I see ngh- fuck- my heir.”

It’s like something breaks. And Satoru’s remembering that no, this isn’t just any child - it’s the next Gojo. That grip on the base of his swollen cock tightening when he slips past your pussy lips. 

“Oh! Toru- f-fuck wait s’too big-” you keen, nails digging into where his yukata was sliding off his milky, sculpted shoulders. Hard enough to break skin. “It’s ah-”

“No.” he spits into your sagging mouth. “No no no no- wait fuck- ngh squeezing so fucking- tight.” Hips pushing in quick, shallow little thrusts to squeeze more of his achy head inside. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck hold on. Need this. Need this so bad- please!”

And you can’t do anything but arch into his touch, scrambling up onto your elbows to- shit, that was a bad idea. 

Because one look at the sight of your poor cunt, all bulging and stretched out on Satoru’s massive cock was enough to have you running away. 

You’d barely made a movement to escape, feet flattening on the floor to buck your hips because shit it was too much. And it was a useless effort, anyway, because Satoru’s dragging you back so easily, pulling your limp body deeper down his swollen cock. 

“Need this. Need this need this so bad, pretty.” he groans, barely even halfway in yet. Still pushing, still relentless. “Need to breed this cunt so bad.”

Some tiny, useless part of Satoru’s rationality knows that he should slow down - maybe give you a second to relax. To maybe even breathe. But he was out of control now, hips stuttering and wrenching forwards like he couldn’t stop. 

So he’s simply gripping onto your shaky thighs harder, sure to leave neat little indents of his nails to admire tomorrow - or, whenever he gets back his sanity, that is. 

Satoru hisses at the way you’re so pliant below him. Limp, letting him rest your legs on his muscled shoulders. “Think I needa manhandle ya more often, pretty.” Pressing down, down - all the way until you were folded in half beneath him in such a mean mating press. “Can’t- can’t stop-”

The change in angle makes you scream out Satoru’s name - and it makes him bottom out. Finally. 

Fuck, you weren’t making it out alive.

“Oh.” he grunts at the feeling of his heavy balls smacking against your ass, his fat, leaky tip kissing against your cervix. God, if Satoru was any less of a man he thinks he could’ve cum just from the feeling of you trying to suck him up already. 

“Oh- oh my god-” you gasp when he presses down about halfway down your stomach, Pressing down for that bulge, hard. “You’re in s-so deep ngh- S’like you’re pushing into my ngh- lungs.”

Fuck, if you talked any more with that pretty mouth then Satoru was bound to pass out. Blindly, he’s feeling for your pouty mouth, kissing and nibbling at your wobbling lips like a subconscious apology. For what was to come, that is.

Because Satoru Gojo spares no apologies when he starts moving - finally. Finally fucking you the way he’s been dreaming of all throughout that droning meeting. 

And he says so - a little over fifteen times, in fact, while he splits you apart on his cock. 

“-n’ when I was negotiating those ngh- c-clan deals. N’ when I was at that meeting-” he gasps, shoving your legs so far apart it burned. “S’all I could hah- think of. Everything - don’t give a fuck if I got a contract wrong.”

Each word was punctuated by a rough, harsh ram of his cock, stretching out your gummy walls so far apart like he wanted to make his mark there. Pushing - even when he could feel his aching tip nudging at your cervix.

So merciless - violent even - with the way he’s slamming back into you. Molding your plushy walls to every ridge and curve of his massive cock. It was impossible to even form coherent sentences with his harsh pace. 

A large hand flattens beside your head as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper. More purposeful. You almost sob at the sheer pressure when he dances his fingers down to rub quick, methodical little circles on your clit. “Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. “M-more.”

But it wasn’t enough.

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. And shit at that very moment you almost understood why even the most hardened of clan leaders feared to even look at Gojo Satoru wrong. Because he was giving you a sopping, fucked-out smile, eyes widened, voice trembling, “You want more?”

And of course this was the strongest. Of course, he was ruthless. 

Of course, it takes him exactly two seconds to pull out of your heavenly cunt and flip you onto your stomach. One hand coming under you to angle your hips up until you were on all fours - like some ragdoll. The other feverish, distracting on your clit while he bullies his achingly hard cock past your sopping entrance once more. 

“Fuck!” your voice is hoarse when you scream. Teeth gritting because fuck the stretch was too sinful and Satoru’s hips were too harsh. Too hellbent on fucking into you like he’d lost control. “O-oh please, Toru-”

He doesn’t waste time easing you into it this time, picking up where he left off with that maddening cadence. And you were glad he had an arm on your hips because your knees were weakening with each thrust, slowly sliding down the floor before-

“Aw, my poor girl.” you hear Satoru coo from above you. Muscled chest rubbing up against your back, “S’alright. M’gonna take care of it. You jus’ hafta take it- jus’ take it like the good lil’ wife you are.” his body bows into yours, strands of white sticking to his forehead. “N’ I’ll take fuck fuck fuck- care of everything.” So sloppy with his rhythm, pushing you further and further up the floor with each movement - only to reel you right back so easily. “I’ll wash ‘em and hah- clothe ‘em n’ t-teach ‘em to take over this godforsaken society. To protect their momma.”

“T-Toru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic. “I’m…”

“Hm?”

He didn’t even have to ask - he could feel the way you were squeezing so hard around him, like you were trying to suck the fucking soul out of him. The way the only thing you could get out was his name. 

His perfect wife. 

Sobbing out, “Close! So close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

He was losing his fucking mind. 

Biting down so hard at the crook of your neck to keep himself from cumming before you, he moans deliciously, “Then cum. Fucking cum. Please- wan’ you to cum on my cock.” Wrists aching with how desperate he was moving, “Cum- yeah yeah yeah fucking- cum- Cum for your husband.”

Oh, if heaven was real then whatever was left of that part of Satoru that could still form coherent thoughts knew that this was it. 

Watching you fall apart like such a slut all over his cock. Not even realizing it at first - just that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, swollen lips falling slack, letting out such a pretty cry of his name that he can’t help but cum, too. 

You don’t know who’s more far gone - you, with your head spinning, a lewd little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time Satoru fucks you through your high. 

Or him, gushing out in thick, hot ropes of cum that overspill from your snug cunt. 

“So muchhh.” you whine, heavy head being held up by your husband. “S’too much.”

And he knew what you were talking about - because Satoru was cumming and cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Because he was mesmerized by that creamy trail of white drooling down your folds, forming an obscene ring at those tufts of white at his base. 

“Too much?” Satoru hisses. “Too much?”

You can only give a barely-lucid nod, whimpering when he doesn’t ease up. Not one bit, in fact, Satoru was only abandoning the hand playing with your ravaged clit to press down on your abdomen. Hard. 

“There we hah- go. Better now?” The hand supporting your head forced you to look down below, at the sticky mess of white covering your cunt. Slobbering all over Satoru’s cock - even down to his thighs. “Now we got fuck- more space.”

You don’t even realize you’re scrambling away until Satoru gasps, panicked, “No no no- we’re not done, pretty. Fuckkk we’re far from done.” Fingers tightening around your neck to pull you deeper down his cock, holding you in place. Just dragging you along his length. “Gotta make sure it takes. Why else d’you think no one in the Estate will be back until tomorrow?”

He doesn’t wait for a response - not that you could give one, anyway, with how you were being fucked dumb on his cock again. 

A strong, powerful leg hooks around yours, pushing you down with his body weight. “So that we ngh- h-have enough time to prepare for my heir.” Weeping head grazing all those sensitive spots so expertly. “T-to plan and and- ruin you and- fuck you feel so good. They’ll be the most powerful- hah- jus’ watch. Those fuckers better w-wait and see.”

So debauched and fucked-out that you don’t even know what he’s running his mouth about now, just heavy, urgent words slurred into your neck while he fucks you just as sloppily. 

“Don’t know?”

Fuck. You said it out loud again. 

And the embarrassing realization has your eyes screwing open, gazing tearily back at an amused Satoru. Well, as amused as he could be when he was just as wrecked as you. 

Kissing your sweaty forehead, hips reeling back all the way until your cunt was missing the stretch - bucking traitorously against the fat mushroom tip grazing your entrance. Making a mess of precum down below.

“S’alright, pretty.” he groans, sandwiching his cock between your puffy folds. “Because you just have to sit there n’ ngh- take- it.”

If you thought that Satoru was broken before then he was absolutely ruined now. 

Because there was no reason or rhythm to his actions now - just mindless, feral movements to milk his cock as much as he physically could on your pussy. Running only on pure need and the thought of you round and so full with his kid. 

“Ah!” you’re startled out of your reverie by something wet. Whirling sluggishly to catch the tears of overstimulation brimming at Satoru’s heavy eyes - shit, you wondered if he even knew what he was doing at this point. “T-Toru…you- ngh- o-okay?”

The only response you get is an unsteady nod. 

“-the best.” he whispers, twitching balls squeezing so painfully with each slap against your ass. Faster. Absolutely soaked with the sinful concoction of your juices and his cum. “We’ll be the best parents- ngh-” And fuck it was so much - too much. Too good. Painful pleasure.

Enough that all it takes is another, sloppy thrust before he’s seeing stars behind his eyes again. Cock twitching wildly inside your cunt as Satoru shoots load after load of cum to paint your pussy white. 

So warm with his cum - him - that Satoru’s body moves before his mind. Pooling the mess down below to nudge back into your cunt. “C’mon, pretty, c-can’t get ngh pregnant if ya don’t oh- cum.”

And it’s so embarrassing how that’’s all it takes for you to reach your high with a strained, barely audible moan. Voice shot, your own orgasm nothing but a few tingles that have your thighs fucking back into Satoru’s. 

“Satoru- Satoru Satoru Satoru.” you mewl, big fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Birds of a feather, they say. 

Hypnotized. Drunk off the feeling.

And, evidently, Satoru was, too. 

“Pretty…” his voice rings in your ear. Tinged with a tone you know didn’t bode well for you - or your poor, overfilled cunt. Bloated and dribbling already. “Are- sure- ngh-” 

And with a jolt, you realize he’s still moving. Still pushing and pulling in languid, slow strokes. Thighs shaking as the fatigue wears on him. 

If anyone saw Satoru like this, they’d have a heart attack. Flushed your favorite shade of pink, the lower half of his body well covered with a sheen of your obscenities. Eyes teary with sensitivity, cock still twitching and so angry as he clears his throat and tries again, “Are we- hah- sure it took?”

“Wh-what-” you gasp, breathing in big, deep inhales. “Yes- yes yes- oh my god it’won’t-”

“It will.” Satoru’s interruption almost comes out as a whine. And he’s more sluggish, dazed when he flips you over onto your back again - not too difficult, with the way you were practically splayed out already. “Th-this pussy is made to take it, right? T-to be bred by me?”

It’s almost like Satoru was begging for confirmation, plugging back in the excess of what was leaking out of your abused pussy. It was spreading in a lewd little pool now, seeping into the non-existent space between you two.

But oh how Satoru loved it. Couldn’t tear his eyes off of it, in fact as he noses at your neck. Barely even thrusting anymore, just raw grinds, “Right? Gotta make sure- ngh- heir. Oh-”

He’s darting his tongue out to lick at the beads of tears streaming down your cheek. The salty taste on his tongue having Satoru’s hips stuttering forwards. Again. And again - alternating, not on purpose - between hitting your cervix and that bruised g-spot. “Gonna give me an heir? Ohhh fuck fuck fuck- lemme breed this cunt?”

You’re using up every bit of energy left in your body to give that slow, shallow nod. Which is all the time it takes for the pool to spread even wider. For Satoru’s fingers to stumble their way back to play with your clit. 

Rolling his thumb over in a harsh, uncalculated pattern - if you could even call it that, just jerky, obscene movements to get you off. 

And it works. Hell, the two of you are barely in the state of mind to even feel it. But he’s finally cumming again, and so are you. 

“Ngh- Fuck-”

With a loud, pained cry Satoru tightens his grip on your body like a vice. Raw, sensitive, overusing his cock until it felt so empty. Until you felt so bloated it was like you could explode - or maybe that was your own orgasm. “Toru- c-cumming.”

You’re not sure, anymore. And you don’t know if either of you could bring yourselves to care at this moment, not when your eyelids grow heavy. Vision tinging with black in the corners, and the only thing you could see was your husbands face - sweaty, eyes almost closed, kiss-bitten lips moving in a soundless whisper.  “-the best- momma.”

A/N. CLAN LEADER GOJO SAVE MEE. Oh yeah the “can’t get pregnant without the momma cumming” bit was based on this old tale I’d heard where people used to gen believe that. 

“H-Hey, Satoru! Wait-wait a sec!” The words spilled from your lips in an unintentional desperate plea, the halls fully swarmed and packed with students squeezing past one another. Dozens of conversations mulled around you, voices mindlessly buzzing and bouncing off the walls as you paced towards the white haired man.

Satoru had been anything but clear as of recently, a new push pull dynamic he’d adopted that had you more confused and thrown off than ever. You thought you were going crazy.

One night he was taking you out, looking at you like you were his dream girl who hung the moon in his sky, and the next he was treating you like some clingy puppy that he had never even asked for in the first place. The hot and coldness of it all had given you whiplash trying to keep up with him.

But of course, of couuurrrse, you believed him when he said it was stress. That finals and exams had him so busy, but of course he liked you! He was just new at this whole communication thing and needed time but please Y/N, I like you so much please im trying.

You believed it all.

After all, why would you not? Especially when Satoru was Satoru and you were you.

Sure, you knew you could be a lot, knew you could have more than afforded to shut up every now and then and not chimed in with your over the top unnecessary eager commentary, but regardless, the point still stood. Satrou Gojo, one of the hottest most pined after frat boys on campus that everyone treated like a myth, like an untouchable legend, talked to you, was nice to you, even took you out and seemed happy to do so.

Maybe for once, the rumors could have been just rumors!

Plus, the last few times you remembered being taken out was high school, and they never showed you much interest past the first date once they learned they couldn't get in your pants. Gojo hadn't even tried!

“Sorry-excuse me,’cuse me, sorr- oops, my bad, imsosorry- Satoru!”

He'd been oddly silent the past few days, completely unresponsive to your texts. But with finals coming up, surely he must've been cramming and just far too busy to respond.

He hadn't sat next to you like usual in lecture, but he showed up late, so maybe he didn't want to bother you?

But he didn't wait for you after either, gone before you could even leave your seat. You couldn't deny how it stung, but always chalked it up to him being too busy or in a rush.

You could visibly see his shoulders tense from behind, the slight tilt of his head as it hung forward in what you could only assume was annoyance, a brief mental preparation to deal with you. A pang bloomed in your chest, unease pulsing through you.

He slowed down just enough for you to catch up, but didn't stop. Slightly out of breath, you fell into step next to him, cheeks flushing and heat creeping up your neck from his clear uneagerness to see or talk to you. You nervously swallowed. He could be intimidating when he wanted to be.

He didn't greet you, didn't look at you, just waited for you to speak.

You awkwardly cleared your throat to speak, a small and meek “hi,” being the only word to squeeze out.

“I’ve got class.” Short, quick, dismissive.

His blunt uninterested response sent doubt pummeling through you, the gifts in your pocket weighing heavier and heavier with the possibility of rejection more realistic than you initially thought.

He would draw you in, perfect words to butter you up and make you feel foolish for ever questioning him, and then he'd get like this. Not mean per se, but just so uninterested in you that you wondered if you had made it all up. You weren't dating (yet? So you were hoping) but he had kissed you on the most recent date. Didn't that mean something?

You'd been so ecstatic afterwards, but with no solid friends on campus, you had no one to tell or squeal to. You carried everything alone, both good and bad. Gojo knew that, the whole frat knew that. It's what made you the perfect choice.

“R-right, yeah! Um- can you stop just for a second- i wanted to-” and he loudly sighed, piercing blue eyes rolling into his head as he stopped to turn to you. He didn't say anything, just stared expectantly at you like you were completely wasting his time. His gaze on you was irritated.

The eye contact had you jittery. Not the usual nerves you'd get when you turned your head just to find him already looking at you, so anxious you’d somehow mess things up with the hottest guy ever, so desperate to be good enough for him. No. It was the on edge, antsy type that had you replaying every dumb thing you've ever said to him, the doubt pooling at the very bottom of your stomach that felt like a heavy black tar. It felt like a test you knew you’d fail when you had studied so hard to do good. You just wanted him to like you the way you liked him, and god, did you fucking like him.

Don't fuck this up, y/n, this is the best thing that has ever happened to you.

Nervously swallowing and cheeks blazing, you gave an uneasy awkward smile before rummaging through your tote bag and pocket, muttering a tiny but sincere “sorry,” when his foot started to impatiently tap against the floor.

A small pit formed in your stomach, feeling slightly mortified and very embarrassed. The feeling was similar to a child showing off their very mediocre work to an overly critical parent.

“Sorry,” you huffed a fake laugh, pulling out the small container from your bag and the keychain from your pocket.

“I-um, I made these for you, since you know, you said you loved cookies, uh on the date, they're um your favorite..” and your words trailed off as you held out the tin, slowly beginning to feel smaller and smaller as he kept his hands by his side, no show of trying to take it from you. A small sticky note on the top read, “Hope you like them! :D <3”

“Oh! A-and, hah, I saw this and, and I thought of you, especially since you said you really, um, really liked that show.” nothing. “J-Just as a um, thank you, for the other night. W-Was a lot, o-of fun.”

You held both hands out, praying he didn't see the slight tremble of your clammy hands holding the items as you stood there feeling like an idiot. The thumping of your heart picked up, eyes looking anywhere but at him, bowing your head just slightly so you wouldn't have to see him look so repulsed by you.

Had you somehow misread everything? Like actually? This entire interaction felt like some humiliation ritual.

“Um, if, if you want, o-of course, no.. no pressure,” You pathetically added, already trying to lessen his blow, already trying to minimize and justify his cold reaction towards you.

He let out a small snicker, hands finally coming up to grab the items from your unsteady hands. You hid the sigh of relief that you wanted to let out, so easy to please and already feeling happy again that he accepted your gifts, as if it was a nuisance for him to do so.

“Wow, thanks. You do too much,” he dully noted, a small closed lip smile gracing his pretty features before he turned on his feet to continue his trek to class.

The comment made you freeze, staring at the spot he stood in, a “thank you?” not even having the chance to leave your tongue. You didn't think he said it with mal intent, but the words ‘too much’ always seemed to find its way back to you.

“Oh wait!” Gojo's voice broke you from your thoughts, and you immediately turned to face him, eyes wide and excited like a dog hearing the word ‘walk.’ Maybe he'd talk to you some more, or want you to walk with him! Or maybe-

“Party this Friday night at the house. You should come by, all my friends will be there.” The words made you deflate. A party… at his frat house… the idea made your stomach twist with nerves. You knew no one, had no friends to go with, and you were absolutely horrified of embarrassing yourself around him- even more- than what you felt like you had already done.

“Oh! Um, haha, I don't think your friends like me- um- very much, haha,” you stated, hand coming up to push your fallen hair behind your ear, a small wince on your face as to not make it a big deal.

His friends, and Gojo at first too, had been relatively mean to you starting off, relentless teasing about your looks, your interests, hobbies, lack of knowledge you had despite trying so hard. You had been so caught off guard when he told you he liked you.

“Psh, they're just playing! See you at 10pm,” he yelled back, already walking away, arm coming up to carelessly wave. You sighed to yourself. You knew you would go. You really wanted to see gojo.

Friday night was a mess. A good mess at first, at least. Cars parked up and down the street, people packed in like sardines in and outside the house, music so loud all the neighboring dorms and frats could hear, and god did it reek like sweat and musk.

The two shots - okay maybe three - you took right before for liquid courage seemed to do the exact opposite as you maneuvered around a couple making out, small “excuse me’s” falling from your lips every second in a measly attempt to find gojo.

The small revealing outfit you had on, at least, seemed to match the vibe, relieved when you saw girls wearing far less. The only con was that your favorite knee high boots would most definitely get stepped on, but at least you were taller now as you searched for the stark white tufts of hair.

The house thrummed from the vibration of the speakers, bass so heavy your teeth rattled. It was dark, the only light illuminating the rooms were colorful shades of blues, purples, reds, and greens shining and flashing everywhere. The party felt like everything you weren't, but for a split second you were almost proud of yourself, going so far out of your comfort zone it felt like you were on a whole other planet. You imagined how fun these parties could be if you had any friends, and before you could let the thought get you down, you let your tipsy self imagine what it would be like to experience these with gojo by your side, excited that you were about to.

Like the rest of the house, the kitchen was packed. Unable to find Gojo had you seeking out another drink and the multitude of bottles of liquor that covered the surfaces were calling your name. You felt confident, wanting another drink to keep your courage and vibes up, grabbing a red solo cup and creating a concoction that would be far too strong, but you were here to let loose right? You were at a party!

Further encouraged and emboldened when a girl passing by stopped to compliment you, you smiled to yourself, feeling the tension roll off your back and a new found self-assurance bloom within you.

Bodies flowed and worked around you, not shoving into you or looking at you like you didn't belong, but moved in rhythm near you, like you had every right to be there and fit just fine. You relaxed into the music, earlier shots of vodka giving you a nice buzz that warmed your skin, made your cheeks tingle, and more importantly a soft happiness that weighed in your chest that comforted you like a safety blanket. Pouring the liquor into the cup with a mixer that admittedly was way too little, you knocked over a different cup, relieved there was barely any liquid that spilled over.

Quietly giggling to yourself, you spun to grab a roll of paper towels, quickly drying up the small mess you made, already sipping on your drink that made you wince in disgust. It was perfect. You hummed along to the music, hips swaying while lights blinded you, walking over to the metal garbage can to toss the wet material. Looking inside, you couldn't help but notice the tupperware that looked exactly like yours.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you leaned in a little closer, tiny fractures cutting into your heart as you realized it was yours, still packed to the brim with your cookies, sticky note still stuck to the top. Next to the cookies, the keychain you had bought him.

You froze, just a moment before scooting back, not wanting to get caught staring into the trashcan as you processed everything. There was a dull ache in your chest, energy immediately depleting and inklings of shame and embarrassment circulating through you. Your mind worked through the different possibilities, seeking out any excuse or reason as to why your items now lay forgotten in the trash.

You felt the build up of tears, blinking them back with a shaky breath as you chugged your mixture that was mainly liquor, a hopeless attempt at suppressing the sadness you felt. You shivered, turning your head to gag at the disgusting taste. Surely all the alcohol would calm your nerves.

Maybe one of the guys had done it? And not Gojo? You were positive this was all some sort of misunderstanding, no way he would just do that right? He told you he liked you- it wouldn't make any sense.

You began your trek around the sea of people, legs a little more unsteady now, eyes slightly glassy, contents of your stomach filled with a majority of alcohol and barely any food from your earlier nerves. All you wanted to do was find him, figure out an explanation that you were positive you'd be more than willing to accept, and spend the rest of the night by his side having a good time. The cookies weren't hard to bake and it's not like the keychain cost that much- it was fine, you were fine.

A little more intense this time, you made your way through the frat house, a sigh of relief when a glimpse of that notorious white fluffy hair came into view, a black backwards baseball cap sitting perfectly on his head. When your eyes finally landed on gojo, albeit still a little wobbly and throat tight, you couldn't help the smile that automatically formed on your face, hoping he'd feel the same. Why wouldn't he? He did invite you after all.

He was surrounded by his friends and then some, everyone dialed in on what he was saying. You anxiously stepped forward, waiting for the right time to get close to him and say hello. You wondered if he'd hug you and say ‘hi baby,’ like he sometimes did. The thought made your heart flutter inside its ribs like a bird in a cage.

Maybe he'd even compliment your outfit, or your hair and makeup. You eagerly bit your lip, too excited to be embarrassed at your spiraling thoughts of being somewhat wanted by him.

“Bro and then she gave me a fuck ass keychain, dude!!” he broke up his commentary with a laugh, a little too forced for it to be genuine, but a laugh nonetheless. “Said it reminded her of me, like, she just can't get any weirder bro. God and don't get me started on the cookies. She said it was her thanks for taking her out, but she doesnt know its all a bet to get into her pants- shes a fucking virgin for sureeee, threw that shit out as soon as i got back,” and he snickered and grinned like he had won the best prize. Like he had formed the best, most elaborate plan and you had played your part perfectly. You really, really had.

His friends, who you recognized as toji and maybe sukuna, chuckled, all chiming in with terms of agreement and encouragement, adding on all sorts of lies and theories about you, like maybe you were secretly a whore putting out, your innocent act a devious little facade. Geto, who had always been kind to you, was there too, perched against the side of a couch, not joining in, but silent and accepting.

You flinched, physically recoiling back when you heard them laugh about how you were too much, too pathetic to see right through anything at all, a fucking stupid girl for thinking someone like you could have a chance at him. Everything you had told yourself, every insecurity that had coursed through you, all confirmed. Others really did view you the way you saw yourself.

“Bro and when I kissed her, swear i almost gagged-”

You drowned his voice out, the music. There was a ringing in your ears that wasn't there before. Frozen in your spot, fingers beginning to shake, throat burning so badly you weren't sure if the alcohol you had downed was about to make a surprise appearance or not.

The bodies around you blurred as the pit in your stomach grew, humiliation washing over you as if you’d just been doused with a bucket full of ice water. You didn't run, couldn't, feet glued to the floor as you were forced to listen to the group of the hottest guys on campus who didn't even know you as a person, didn't take the time to learn you, ridicule you and make fun of you. You guessed it didn't matter, because Gojo had.

Each breath was labored and jagged, chest tightening and skin prickling with such an intense heat that you felt constricted in the already sparse clothes you wore. The way the fabric dug into you, a certain stitch that scratched you, the zipper that rubbed against your skin - it felt like you were suddenly aware of every unpleasant feeling in addition to the shattering of your heart.

You wanted to go home, wanted the floor to swallow you whole- felt so unbelievably silly standing there watching the guy you liked- fuck, the guy you had fallen in love with- paint you out to be some weird nasty creature who was undeserving of his attention. Sure, you had felt that way initially, but he had been so kind to you that you had been so blindsided, unknowingly setting yourself up to fall right back into your constant cycle of heartbreak and misery.

Built up tears finally broke the surface, some beginning to stream down your face and others just dropping from the sheer amount that had welled up. It wasn't until gojo turned his head, eyes landing directly on you and smile completely dropping that your legs became unstuck.

Your breath hitched, crackling sob breaking through as your saliva grew sticky. The extra drinks sure to make you vomit after this. You spun so fast you lost balance for a split second on your heels, immediately righting yourself and pushing through the sweaty bodies blocking you in. You didn't say sorry or excuse me, just pummeled through, desperate to get outside so that maybe you could finally breathe. You felt like a pig in makeup, and the thought made you cry harder. So beyond embarrassed, having dressed up and done your hair and makeup, mortified that everyone else thought you looked just as ugly and silly. You had to get out of here, the air was too thick and stuffy as the walls closed in on you.

Your name fell on deaf ears, sprinting out the front door and down the porch steps, surroundings a blur from not only how fast you were moving, but the alcohol that coursed through you. You knew the gifts were stupid, sure, but everything else? The kiss? He wanted to gag? All the times he called you pretty, beautiful, yes, it was more than plausible that it was a lie, but why did he say it all then? That's right, because you were supposedly just a fucking bet.

Who would willingly want to be with you?

Gojo called your name again, louder. You weren't the only one sick to your stomach. He cursed, heart dropping to his ass as the overwhelming suffocating feeling of guilt bloomed inside of his chest, heart quite literally constricting at how shitty, how fucking disgusting, he felt. It spread throughout him and he would've thought it was dramatic if it didn't feel like he could currently drop to his knees and heave. The entire situation was beyond fucked up, everything a misunderstanding and completely not at the same time.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he repeated, hoarse and panicked as he immediately trailed after you, abruptly leaving the conversation mid sentence, not caring how he looked when all the guys stared at him in confusion. He lost sight of you for a moment but knew you'd only try to leave, escape the perfect hell he had just created for you.

Why the fuck did he do this? How the fuck was he gonna make this up to you, and why had he let himself get involved in this shitty idea anyway? He knew he should've called it off, he knew he had fallen for you.

Muttering insults as hands came out to grab at him, others trying to talk and some pulling him in for a dance. He didn't look, didn't care who they were, practically throwing and shoving their hands off him with only you in mind. He would explain everything to you, lay himself bare and expose the ugliness and insecurities that festered inside of him.

He had been projecting this entire time, exhausted from maintaining such an ugly facade of the frat fuckboy, desperately trying to fit in with everyone else that he stupidly agreed to the bet just to feel some type of belonging and companionship. All at the expense of you.

He didn't think, that was his issue. So caught up in this fake lifestyle that he knew the act wasn't just pretend anymore, his morals slipping by the day as he settled into this new once foreign character. They were all fucking assholes. All of them.

Fingers tightly clenching your almost dead phone, you bawled, frustration making you grit your teeth in additional annoyance when the sidewalk wouldn't stay straight. Accidentally stepping off the concrete, your heel caught on the edge, sending you falling onto all fours on the pavement, too drunk to care about the pain that shot up your wrists and knees. You let out a guttural infuriated noise, a mix between a squeal and growl, feeling so much more than just pissed and heartbroken. You furiously smashed your palm against the concrete as if it held the blame.

“Fuck, hey, shit, are you okay??”

Gojo's palm rested on your back and in the blink of an eye you stumbled up, whipping around to face him seething and disgusted as tears continued to stream down your cheeks.

“Don't fucking touch me,” you spat backing away from him as if he had physically struck you, and at this point you thought you would’ve almost preferred that over the gut wrenching feeling in your chest. There was a physical pain that tore throughout you, your heart feeling like sharp talons had ripped it out and stomped on it like an attempt at snuffing out a flame.

If you had it in you, you would’ve laughed at his expression, so devastated and hurt and torn as if he wasn't the one who caused all this, as if he wasn't the one who could've prevented everything. He had the audacity to stare at you like he was scared of losing you.

“Please, please y/n, i can explain, I am so sorry, please,” and it was as equally pathetic as it was infuriating. gojo pathetically begged, arms awkwardly reaching towards you as if you were the solution.

You paused, tongue loose and words slurred, staring at him bewildered as you threw your palms up. He wasn't who you thought he was. Or maybe he was exactly who everybody said he was and it was your fault for thinking otherwise.

“I thought you liked digimon??”

He swore, hands coming up to drag down his face. You saw. Saw your cookies and the keychain you bought him in the garbage.

“That wasn't me, I swear, please believe me, I swear- I-I got back from class, one of the guys saw and- and started laughing, they took it from me before I could even say anything. They tossed it, and I swear, please believe me, I was gonna grab it after, I-I love Digimon, I loved your gifts, please.”

He was breathless now, a fruitless panicked attempt at defending himself.

You scoffed. “Sure it wasn't too much?”

Gojo winced, hands curling. “I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it like that-” You cut him off, angrily sniffing and wiping your bloody gravel pricked hands against your black mini skirt. God you felt ridiculous.

“Yeah?? Which fucking part??” Your voice raised an octave, almost yelling but you didn't care as passerbyers turned their heads. You spewed the words, moving forward just to angrily shove at his chest, blood smearing his white shirt. Good, you wanted to stain his shit, wipe your blood all over it.

He took advantage of the proximity, quickly but lightly wrapping his large hands around your wrists to keep you close. You screeched, thrashing in his hold, weakly trying to hit him, shove him, and with his loose grip, he let you, your small fists pounding against his hard chest

“Im sorry, Im sorry, Im so fucking sorry, I like you- I like you so fucking much-”

A broken sob escaped you, a mix between a snarl and cry getting stuck in your throat.

“I didn't mean anything I said in there, I loved kissing you, you’re beautiful - fuck, you’re perfect, you’re so fucking perfect and- and you know me, the real me, I feel like I can be myself with you, please please please, im begging you, let me explain everything- from the start.” He was frantic, words rushing out so fast they blended into one. His eyes were glossy and rimmed red and you knew it wasn’t from whatever drugs he had done.

You stilled your hits, pausing in his hold. Rapid breaths mingling, chests quickly falling and rising, faded background music from the frat echoing into the night.

“Please.”

Gojo spoke it like a prayer, voiced with despair and a frenzied anguish that he knew deep down would do nothing. He would continue to beg, to plead with you, to reason, but deep down, he knew. Your chin dropped to your chest helplessly, a small hiccup squeezing itself out as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes felt swollen from how much you had cried, but you had plenty left.

You could feel gojo guide your palms to rest against his chest, a new set of bloody hand prints against the stark white, heart thumping like he'd just ran a marathon. You slammed your eyes shut, new sobs threatening to break loose, the feeling of wanting to curl up and die had never been more prominent.

“y/n, I'll do anything, please- please, I don't-” and his voice cracked, fingers tightening around your wrists. “I don't want to lose you- Im so, Im so sorry, baby.”

Your breath hitched, lips curling and fingers twisting into his shirt to bunch the fabric beneath your fingers. The agony and discomfort in your chest was painfully overwhelming, silently wishing you'd wake up from this nightmare, wishing you never heard him, trying to wrap your mind around how and why he would do this to you. You’d never understand, would never gain pleasure from hurting anyone, let alone, him.

“What did I ever do to you?”

The words came out small, so small and fractured and so confused, seeking an explanation or reason that could maybe get the two of you past this- that maybe you must've done something to deserve it and the two of you could come back from this, but you knew it was all for nothing. For no reason at all.

Gojo's eyes flashed with guilt, anger, and shame. He wanted to recoil, wanted to throw his head into his hands and sob, but he didn't want to let you go. He knew it would be the last time. Your gaze didn't meet his.

He swallowed, throat stinging and eyes burning. He regretted everything, internally begging to take it all back like some upper power would hear him and turn back time.

“Nothing, you didn't deserve this- you did- did nothing.” The words caught as his voice wavered and you wondered if he was crying. You refused to look at those eyes. His fucking blue perfect eyes that bore into you like you mattered- it was all lies- he had lied to you for months- almost an entire semester. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, attempting to stifle the wail you wanted to blubber out. It had been months.

Months of getting to know one another, of a build up, of a hope for something more. The silliest stupidest notion that for once someone found you valuable too and it wasn’t one sided.

A shallow gasp, an unintentional whimper, your shoulders shook as you wept.

“I wish I never met you, g-gojo. I would never-” a cry broke your words, tensing up as you angled your head down to hide your uncontrollable tears. He wanted to correct you and tell you to call him satoru or toru, but he stayed silent, let the sting burn. “Never hurt you like this.”

You shakily exhaled, not paying attention to his mindless small whimpers of “I know, I'm so sorry, I know, please.”

You gripped the fabric tighter, lifting your head to finally meet his eyes, hating how he was crying, how he genuinely looked heartbroken at hurting you, how you hated seeing him like this. His chin wobbled, breath coming out in unsteady pants and for once, he didn't look like the notorious frat boy who could conquer anything. He looked small, like a scared little boy.

Unsteady shaky hands lifted to gently cup your cheeks, gojo preparing himself for you to yank away from his touch like it burned. He sniffled when you didn’t, perfect lips shiny and slightly parted as he fully rested them against your soft skin.

“I never want to see you again.”

His composure shattered, immediately shaking his head murmuring “no’s”, thumbs rubbing back and forth over your skin and under your eyes as he repeated the same words over and over again. You pushed him back roughly with all your drunken force, which wasn't much, but enough to send him stumbling backwards to create distance.

He was alarmed, not at what you had done, but at watching you walk away, brain filling with nothing but no no no no no please, please stay, stay with me stay.

“Y/n, no please, baby, baby, y/n, please hear me out- please-” his voice was shredded, raw from drinking and yelling and begging, but he didn’t care. He’d beg and beg until he had no voice left, and when it was gone, he would find another way.

For a moment, you paused, and he thought that maybe, just maybe you would listen. But when you slowly turned to him, looking so fucking beautiful still as street lamps glistened in the reflection of your eyes, cheeks shiny and tinted pink from the tears that painted your cheeks, it all clicked. It was torturous.

“Fuck y/n, please, I-I love you. I’m so,” he swallowed to ease the scratchiness of his throat. It did nothing. “I’m so in love with you,” and he whispered the words, loud enough so you’d hear, but almost as if they weren’t meant for you, as if he was just talking to himself and unintentionally said the realization aloud.

He watched as a lone tear dropped down your cheek and it was cruel. He was cruel, you were cruel. Standing there so perfect and so beautiful while you broke his heart, and it was all his fault since he had done it first. The silence was thick as the two of you stood feet apart, wordlessly staring at each other, letting his words hang in the air. You opened your mouth and shut it, letting the process repeat as you mulled over the words in your head, wishing more than ever he hadn’t said them. Wishing more than ever you didn’t feel the same.

“I’d pick you, over and over again Satoru, every time, in a room full of people. Everyone would,” you huffed a fake laugh, blinking away your tears as you stared into his dumb perfect eyes. “I thought-” your lips quivered, chin wobbling at the humiliating admission. “I thought for once, someone had finally picked me.” The words slowly fell from your lips, laced with what one could only describe as pure heartbreak.

Gojo felt the final blow split his heart, not a clean cut, but a jagged uneven slash that cleaved it in two. He called your name, desperate and all, watching you spin on your heel and angrily walk away, your perfume hitting him as the wind blew.

He stepped forward- yelled your name again. But you didn't turn, didn't peek, didn't flinch as you sobbed, fingers constantly wiping your eyes to see where you were going as you drunkenly walked back to your apartment. Cried for yourself, mourned who you were becoming, who you were becoming with him. You had fallen in love with him too, of course you had. He was so easy to love.