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🧾: a passing comment made under gojos breath two years ago is exactly what costs him his chance with you. it completely slipped his mind, but not yours. never yours. your ability to hold a grudge exceeded his expectations and he has to work extra hard to get that second chance. while also pining after you.
•ू nerd!jo x fem!reader ┆ shy, needy gojo ┆ university au ┆ women in stem ┆ his pretty face is hard to ignore ⋆ . ࿔ ˚
you were always an overachiever. All throughout your life in all areas of your life. Academics, friendships, work.
That is how you ended up in the honors program of your university as a freshman. this meant you got a lot more hands-on work as an applied physics major. smaller classrooms, closer relationships with classmates and professors, better labs.
it was a prestigious opportunity, especially for a female student in a stem field.
therefore, being an honors student, it gave you a certain pep in your step. even if it made you miss more hours of sleep than healthy to sustain life.
doesnt matter. that glossy 98.7% in a class with a 64% pass rate made it all worth it.
but being mostly isolated by the program made making friends at uni a bit difficult, so you tried your best to be open to any friendships that can come out of the program.
you were always nice, polite, let people take the seat you wanted, completed extra work on projects.
basically a doormat.
you did not want to be, obviously. you knew your mistake in acting the way you did, but it was also simply in your nature to try a little hard and appease everyone.
so it was no surprise when sophomore year, in the intermediate mechanics lecture you took alongside other honors students and got seated next to a tall, white haired boy, you tried your best to be as polite as possible.
it had nothing to do with you finding him cute. you were simply nice to everyone.
but that white haired know-it-all creature soon became an annoyance to you. he made you clench your teeth so hard you were sure you’d have to befriend a dental student soon for some discounts.
though sweet, you always had a competitive streak. so, someone pointing out your mistakes? painting you as plainly dumb? enlarging your imposter syndrome with every dismissal? definitely chipped away at your ego.
and satoru gojo did all of that.
if the two of you were solving a round of problems or working on the same assignment, you always tried to finish before him. but his focus was impossible to break or compete against. somehow, his computer was always shut before yours, paper turned in right under yours in the stack.
any time you offered help, your desk mate would stare at you as if dumbfounded on why you would offer such tomfoolery to him, and then dismiss you with a wave of his hand. degrading, to say the least.
one time, at the end of class, you raised your hand to ask a question on a particularly hard section, to which gojo simply muttered under his breath ‘how can someone not know this?’ as if intermediate mechanics were taught to everyone in kindergarten.
it has already been a particularly hard week for you and that simple mutter, that one remark on your intellect. it broke you. the professors response, surely helpful, went in one ear and out of the other. the only thing filling your brain was static.
you did not like to think of yourself as overly emotional. but the constant pressure of feeling excluded, like you did not belong in the field you loved, didnt deserve the opportunity you had, had finally broke you.
hot tears of embarrassment had filled your eyes which you lowered as you quickly packed your bag, hair shielding the pitiful view. you did not even dare to take a breath in case you sniffled and that gained attention.
you simply rose quietly and decided from that day on that satoru gojo is your rival, that you simply hated him. he’s a jerk, a nerd, an annoyance, probably a virgin. you threw any and every insult at his imaginary face. imagining them hitting him like a pound of bricks.
you hoped he felt your hatred every time you ignored him, left a room if he was there, moved tables in the library if he was too close. you wish his blood boiled at it as much as yours did.
gojo on the other hand really did not know what your issue was.
he noticed, of course, some weird behavior. but he was too busy with his own things to worry about some girl from his honors program and whatever illness made her move at least 15 feet away from him.
maybe she had albinophobia, is all gojo thought and completely dismissed the thought of you afterwards.
—
junior year you had the luck of meeting the best friends ever. something in your life shifted.
your confidence sky rocketed, you proven to yourself that you deserve to be exactly where you are, you were no longer a ‘doormat’ as previously worded. and gojo? he still held a special, dark, spiky place in your heart of hatred.
you liked to act as if it was a joke with your friends, but to you, it was very much real. you still very much despised the white haired geek.
but he wasn’t the focal point of your life. and that is when things began to shift. for both you and gojo.
you had no lectures with gojo junior year. but he noticed you regardless.
the way you asked and answered questions without any shame, the way you presented yourself, laughed a little too loud and drew everyones eyes your way. he was not strong enough to resist your charm.
to be completely honest, he always found you kind of cute. but your kindness at first seemed fake to his very insecure sophomore self. as if you were pitying him by trying to be his friend. he couldnt help but push you away.
half the time, gojo did not even realize you could hear what he muttered. or he thought you simply wouldn’t really care what he had to say. you were pretty and nice — so what did it matter what he whispered to himself? you would still get ahead in life.
but the trajectory of his life changed as well. he was never all that confident, even when he pretended to be as a self preservation tactic. but multiple times he has gotten his ego checked which resulted in him being a much more humble young man. much more respectful as well.
in reality, gojo has forgotten the incident all together. which resulted in his enormous crush on you. all of junior year, even though the two of you shared not a single class, he has grown more and more fonder.
you never paid any attention to him, never noticed him much. he wasn’t loud, he didnt draw attention to himself like you did. and maybe that was for the better.
multiple times while walking the court yard gojo found his eyes snapping over at you. he couldnt help it. you laughed as you ate lunch with your friends, your laugh piercing through his headphones like the first rays of sunlight through half closed blinds. he’d hyper focus on the way you threw your head back, or how your hair fanned out. it wasn’t healthy, he knew. but he craved to admire you, to dream about you, to notice very little thing.
multiples times you were part of a study group that sat right besides gojos in the library. what a coincidence! he definitely didnt propose the idea that all study groups from the honors program shoud sit together, in case they needed each others help. not him. never.
while pretending to work, he would instead drown in your voice as you went on and on, explaining to someone else your notes and labs from your quantum mechanics lecture. probably some other guy. but simply hearing you talk was enough for him to plunge into his daydreams and later to disturb his sleep as he imagined that voice in his ear.
gojos best friend, suguru geto, could have sworn satoru’s eyes turned heart shaped when you were within 10 feet of him.
geto tried to get gojo to approach you. but what was the use? you both were obviously busy enough, you had your friend group around you always so gojo could never catch you one on one. and he was far too award to talk to you in a group of people he did not know. and you had no lectures together, so no forced proximity.
satoru decided that his quiet pining, the one that would not lead him anywhere but his own madness if he keeps thinking about you, was enough for him. he convinced himself that watching you from afar, enveloping himself in your voice would keep him satisfied. he was happy.
even though some (most) would say he was pathetic.
—
beginning of 4th year, your last one.
you were on your way to your last first lecture of the new semester. excitement bubbling up inside you.
it seemed you got this way now. instead of anxiety, you felt excitement at the thought of a new lecture, new people, group projects.
you walked into the lecture hall which would be hosting your statistical mechanics lecture. it wasn’t as big as those most students are used to. the honors program sometimes used smaller classrooms and auditoriums to host their lectures due to the small number of students taking the particular course.
you recognized a couple of familiar faces from previous years.
lucky for you, among the familiar faces, was your best friend. she removed her bag from a chair as you approached.
“awe you saved me a seat?” you said in an overly sweet, joking tone, “why thank-”
“dont turn around.” your friend sayid suddenly, quietly.
“what?” obviously, you whip your head around. it is only natural to look behind you when someone tells you not to.
and lo and behold, your face drops.
the white spikey hair, the blinding blue eyes framed by skinny glasses, long lanky legs stretching from under the desk. all about him irked you. deep within your body you felt the heat of annoyance, building up, rising.
you turned back around with feigned calmness. “what? i dont care.” you plopped down into the chair.
“you care.”
“pfft. no.”
“pfft. yes.” your friend rolled her eyes, mocking you. “last time you ‘didnt care’ we left a cafe because he walked in and then you spent three hours retelling me why you hated him.”
“please. i would never waste three hours on that moron.” you were unpacking your things, getting ready for the lecture.
unamused, your friend sighed, following suit. she decided not to argue with you further, knowing it would only turn into a rant about how you dont care and you would never waste your time and that in fact he should be the one to care and be ashamed of his behavior and he should be the one beginning for your forgiveness and him him him…. yeah.
you had this lecture three a week because of its densely packed material and the need to cover a lot of ground not only during lectures but labs as well.
you were prepared for it to be filled with group work, you heard from previous students and checked ratemyprofessor which all pointed to one thing. the final grade depends on all the work you and your partner do.
but what have you got to be worried about? you had your closest friend in the class and a bunch of familiar faces. there was no chance that even if you were to get paired up with someone, it would be someone you couldn’t connect with. and it definitely would not be someone dumb, since it was the honors program.
and that is exactly how you got humbled. by getting paired with gojo.
you settle at the desk next to his, awkwardly dropping your bag by your feet and not looking at him. your posture rigid as you prepare for the first partner assignment of the semester. your friend threw you an ‘oh shit’ glance. she knew she will hear about this until the end of time.
gojo on the other hand couldnt believe his luck. in his head, he was thanking every god he has prayed to for this.
his eyes practically lit up when you finally settle down next to him in that cute outfit. he truly does not know how you have time to study to get some of the best marks at the program and and on top of that look so beautiful.
he could barely get a good look at you though. throughout the entire lesson you were turning away, shifting your body at a crazy angle just to be further, shielding yourself with your hair.
somehow it did not click to him that it was all from him.
that night, when gojo returned to his apartment he shared with geto, small and a bit messy from the two geeks, he excited threw his bag on the floor, yelling out for his best friend.
“whats the commotion about?” the tired voice followed the statue that peeked from the kitchen, long black hair spilling from geto’s shoulder.
“shes actually sitting next to me!”
“that girl you never talked to?” geto laughed at his best friends misery.
“that is going to change,” gojo pointed at him determinedly.
geto shook his head and went back into the kitchen and gojo soon stumbled in, clumsy from his excitement.
“no! you don’t get to give me that look! i waited a whole year for this. and now i have the perfect opportunity.” the way gojo was speaking could be described as squealing.
“you didnt have to wait.” pointed out geto.
“you know nothing about the strategic ways of capturing a woman’s heart.”
“and you know nothing about women. period.”
that got gojo sulking. geto wasn’t exactly wrong. gojo had crushes before, of course. but none of them gotten him as excited as his nerdy interests or a good grade. no one has quite held his attention as long as you did.
a part of him cringed at himself for acting the way he did. but he felt truly entrapped by you. if you were within ten feet, if he could hear you, if he could see you — his entire attention shifted to you. no matter what.
and now he had a reason to:
1. get your phone number. youre partners right? how else are you two supposed to communicate about projects? perfect.
2. to talk to you. so what if he will try to swing the conversation away from the class once or twice. he simply wants to get to know his project partner better!
3. to go out with you. sure, it might just be to the library or the local campus cafe. but! it was still seeing you out of class!
a win is a win in gojos book, no matter how small. he could work with it, build up from there.
—
gojo spotted you sitting there already when he walked into the lecture hall. your hair framing your face in the prettiest way ever. those eyes that have yet to spot him are soft, gliding over the notes from the previous class as you fidgeted with a pen in between your delicate fingers.
but as soon as you lifted your head and saw him approaching the softness vanished from your eyes. the sharpness of your gaze was so sudden that it made the white haired on his neck stand up and the nerd trip over his shoes.
gojo caught himself against the desk, his pale skin flushing from the sheer stupidity of what just happened. why couldnt he just walk towards you like a normal person! he just got so startled by the way your face changed. the flowers blooming around you and birds chirping just a moment ego turned into thorns and corpses falling from the sky, right before his eyes.
but he didnt let that deter him. never.
he sat down in the chair, sliding his bag down his shoulder. gojo turned toward you slightly, hands running down his gray hoodie, a blue button-up peeking from the bottom. “hi,” he said lowly, smiling over at you.
you turned your head the other way, leaning your cheek on the palm of your hand.
oh.
well, he couldnt expect you to be open and friendly right from the beginning. it has been a while since the two of you talked. so it makes sense you might be a bit cold towards him. that was no problem for gojo.
he will just have to advance little by little.
you had a nagging feeling of someone staring at you. and you already felt yourself brewing with annoyance. you shoved your things into your bag, a bit carelessly but quickly. your friend already stood outside, waiting for you to head over for lunch. the heat on the back of your head was unbearable. he should really shove those eyes up his-
“y/n?”
you ignored him. and for someone so smart, he still, for some reason, took it as a go ahead.
“i.. uhm,” he scratched the back of his neck, glasses sliding down his nose. “well i thought we should exchange numbers. for the uh-“ gojo’s eyes widened, face flushing as you suddenly straightened up and turned to look at him. once again catching him by surprise and making his voice crack. “-project.” came out way too high-pitched.
“no.”
“grea-oh?” he blinked at you. dumbfounded. but it was for the project! okay… maybe you didnt feel comfortable giving your number out to strangers. but he had to convince you somehow. “but the project?”
“we’ll talk in class.”
“but there’s more work to be done outside of class.”
“then we will discuss that too. during class.”
“but we- we dont get that much time during class.” gojo doubled down “maybe your email?”
“no.”
this was beginning to drive him insane, his ears turning read from frustration.
“then how can i contact you?” which came out a little too petulant for the 6’2 boy standing in front of you.
you shrugged nonchalantly, sliding your bag over your shoulder. “send me a carrier pigeon.”
your heels quickly picked up pace as you joined your friend in the hallway, hurrying away from the awkward interaction without giving gojo a chance to try again.
gojo watched you disappear around the corner, fixing his glasses with a back of his hand. sigh, well that did not go very well for him. sliding his bag over his head, wearing it cross body, he stalked out of the hall. gojo chewed at his bottom lip, deep in thought. you were snappy, and maybe he thought it was a bit uncalled for, he was not being completely outrageous. he was more confused on what made you react to him specifically that way.
you on the other hand did not think your snappy responses were uncalled for whatsoever. however, you spared your best friend, deciding this interaction was not worth the time you wanted to waste talking about it. you will just let it brew quietly beneath your skin. what a safe coping mechanism!
—
gojo tried to talk to you in class for the next following weeks. how was your day? fine. and no question back. anything fun this weekend? no. any plans? no.
it drove him a little insane. he was truly trying his best to build a connection, something to go off of. maybe a hobby you would let slip, something you enjoyed doing that he could share his extensive knowledge on. but nothing. you replied as curtly as a soldier.
every night after the lectures he would pace around the living room, hands tugging and running through his soft white hair, as geto cooked, listening to his best friends rant about yet another failed attempt at a simple conversation with you.
“and she just says no!” he groans, flopping down on the couch. “she says no and her voice is still so sweet. now how is that even fair?” his face is buried in his hands.
“i dont even know how you have a crush on a girl that doesnt even seem to want to turn your way. that’s more surprising. your will to torture yourself is above all else.”
“its not torture,” satoru whined. “you haven’t seen her, and i dont mean just looks. shes a god damn genius, for one. shes so fucking confident and she just knows what shes doing and it drives me insane in the best way. i just… fuck” he exhales, exhausted. “i just want to be in her orbit. a safer, closer distance i can experience her coolness. you know?”
“youre like a sunflower with its sun. cant get too close and yet you keep turning towards it.”
“idiot sunflower.” gojo mutters, throwing an arm over his glistening blue eyes.
“the stupidest.” suguru chimes just to annoy his friend.
—
your stubbornness was costing your project to suffer a bit. it was true that only discussing it in class was slowing down the progress.
so, out of absolute necessity — you valued your gpa more than wounding some boys pride — you gave in.
“gojo?” you turned towards the geek. the room was painted in sunlight, streaking inside from the blinds.
gojo just blinked at you, eyes widened. you were speaking to him, and it didnt sound like you were about to snap at him for doing something wrong or tell him off. his heart stuttered stupidly in his chest.
“y-yes?”
“you can have my phone number.”
at that, gojos eyes widened even further. all of the sudden, out of the blue, you decided he was worth those ten digits? he could text you now! could talk to you outside of class, though you are likely to block him if he does. but that doesnt matter, its progress!
“sure, yes. ill just- give me a second. my phone..” gojo tripped over his own words as they rushed out, tumbling out of his clumsy lips, long fingers fumbling with his phone. after a second of one of the most pathetic scenes you have ever seen, he finally hands you his phone, looking away as he feels a blush creep over his face and down his neck.
you grab gojos phone without any particular enthusiasm and type in your phone number. you were about to hand it back before snatching it back out of his reach. “never call me.” you fix him with a glare that has gojo swallowing nervously and nodding like a devoted puppy. “and only text me about the project. that’s it. got it?”
“y-yes, yes. of course. only about the project. yes ma’am.” you gave him another long stare, as if you were evaluating if he was being honest. if you could trust him. gojo couldnt even focus on being scared of you for longer than a second because the sun spilled over your face, coloring your eyes in a vibrant shade, your hair with a golden glow. he was entranced.
with a huff that broke the spell you finally handed him back his phone. “dont make me regret it, gojo.”
that night, gojos apartment was exploding with cheerful yelling and celebrations. following by meticulous hours of planning the perfect text.
your apartment was flooded with regret and groans, an endless stream of complains.
“hes just been absolutely unbearable. i tell him to do one thing. one! and he doesnt do it right.”
“huh. what a tool.” mutters your friend, already feeling the conversation starting to spiral towards your one and only.
“and so i had to give him my phone number.” you paced.
“you- sorry. what?” your friend looked up at you. this was supposed to be a stalemate. you were supposed to hold out.
“if that block of wood knew how to do anything right, i wouldn’t have to! but we cant get anything done by not talking outside of class.”
“im sure he got your hints,” your friend waved her hand, “he wont text you for nothing.”
“maybe youre right,” you slowed down finally, taking a deep breath. “he cant be that dense-“
your phone pinged in your hand. speaking of the devil. you looked down to see a message from an unknown number and your face fell as you read over it.
> hey, satoru here. i was thinking we should spend some time outside of class.
and then one more.
> not like that
and one more
> but like the library or something
> to work on the project.
you almost crushed your phone in between your fingers with how hard you were gripping it. if this was anyone else, the string of messages wouldn’t have bothered you. but because this was gojo, the fact that it could have been one message but he took up more space and sent multiple, had the audacity to make your phone ping multiple times, irritated you.
—
“she said no,” gojo whined into the pillows of his bed. he’s alone now, the room is dark from the sun being long gone. he was supposed to be asleep. he had a quiz the next morning and a study session. he simply couldnt afford to be a slob. but your relenting rejection of his advances drove him insane. every time he asked, you turned him down sharply, and something twisted in him.
something taunt, just pulling him to the edge. the way your voice sharpened, the way he could imagine your eyes narrowing at him. fuck. he’s getting hard just thinking about it.
any normal person would stop already. give up on you. but he wanted a fair chance. he wanted to prove to you he wasn’t as annoying as you believed him to be.
satoru tried to think of other ways to ask you out, to get you to come to the library, to at least finish this project with him so you both could get a good grade. but all rational thoughts slowly seeped out of his brain.
because once again all he could think about was your eyes, the way they pinned him down with annoyance. the way you huffed every time he spoke, as if it was laborious to listen to him. the way you would cross your arms over your chest, as if he was one step away from getting reprimanded by you.
oh god, how he would love to get reprimanded by you.
sweat built at gojos brow, his breath was labored. oh no, this was really bad. just those thoughts alone made him whimper quietly. there is no way he could ignore this. or go to sleep tonight.
satoru turned over to lay on his back. his navy blue sheets rumpling under him. his phone was already in his hand, his fingers moving before his brain could process that he’s opening your instagram. thank goodness for a public account.
you looked so good, in every picture. your hair caught the light perfectly. your eyes twinkled, caught mid laugh. or in your highlights, posing with your girlfriends in a bar, a black dress that slipped and hung on to every part of you so perfectly. gojo felt his mouth go dry. your skin so soft, so glowy, your lips shiny in every goddamn photo like you did not ever have a bad day.
his hand was already palming himself over the boxers as he scrolled. gojos teeth sunk lower into his bottom lip to stop any noises from coming out. the last thing he needed was to be teased by geto if he heard.
satoru thought that maybe, just maybe, he was done for tonight. maybe he could hold on to some dignity and not go all the way tonight. but then his thumb swiped over your perfectly arranged instagram and there it was. that photo of you.
a club, or a party. some dark room and only a flash of red lights behind you and white, presumably from your phone or a camera, lighting you up. your head is thrown back, tongue sticking out, and your friend, cropped from the photo, only an arm visible, is pouring a drink into your mouth from above.
gojo wanted that photo tattooed on his eyelids.
no dignity. no holding back. his hand slipped into his boxers, fingers wrapping around himself. the strokes were jagged, twitchy as his brain flushed with thoughts of you. with images of that tongue running over him, all over him. of those pretty lips throwing insults at him as you ride him. that throat he can mark up, if you ever let him.
he sprung himself free. all flushed and glistening and pretty. he was already so on edge that he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out long. not when it came to you. never when it came to you.
he threw his head back, muttering soft prayers in the shape of your name. turning his head into his pillows once he couldnt hold back the pathetic whimpers spilling out from his lips.
with just a couple of strong, long strokes over his pink, flushed length, gojo was spent. strings of thick white spilling over his own abs, his phone rested on his chest that moved up and down as he panted. his hair stuck to his forehead and cheeks red from embarrassment, desire.
shame pooled deep in his stomach, waring with unrelenting attraction. his senses came back all of the sudden. what a creep. a pervert. jerking off to a photo of a girl from his class. you didnt post these photos for him to see. you most definitely did not think anyone would have this reaction. he really needed to get a grip.
his phone suddenly pinged. who could be texting him so late at night?
> tomorrow, library at 5. i will be there if you want to work on the project.
gojo let out a started, chocked gasp. he was actually going to see you outside of class! but how was he supposed to face after what he did tonight. he cant look into your eyes, he is sure you will see the shame, the filth, the dirty actions done the night before.
he fucked up.
satoru quickly replied, obviously agreeing to see you, even as he did not know how he will stand to be in same room with you after tonight. then he got up to clean up the mess he made. the hot water of the shower doing nothing to wash away the still lingering neediness and embarrassment.
—
gojo was there before you, because of course he was.
he was so anxious about being late, or stumbling in, or not knowing what to say once he saw you, that he decided to show up a bit earlier. his stress induced mind wouldn’t let him do anything beside sit and stare at a wall until the time to leave came. so he showed up an hour early.
you picked one of the larger libraries on campus. the bookshelves spanned several floors, the interior was filled with dark, aging wood.
the tap of dojo’s foot added to the sound filled silence of the large space, students flipping through pages and typing on their laptops.
satoru thought that by showing up early he will avoid embarrassment but now he had nothing to do. he could get started early, but then it would look like he was trying to one up you. so once again, he found himself just sitting, every scenario running through his mushy brain.
gojo still hasnt calmed down from last night. and once in a while he has to bury his face in his hands from the heat crawling under his skin. gojo practiced breathing, so he doesnt look like he ran a marathon by the time you arrived.
long breath in. short breath out. pause. finish breathing out. long breath in. short breath out. pause. finish breathing out. long breath in. pause-
“learning how to breathe for the first time?”
and just like that, satorus breathing exercise collapsed. his head snapped up, silky white hair falling around his forehead, wide, blue, glistening eyes meeting your narrowed ones. that unimpressed expression on your face, the one he has seen so often, he believed he has every ridge of it memorized.
“hi,” he breathed out, pushing back his glasses that somehow, once again, slid down his nose. he thought he was doing a good job, with the calming exercises and all. but the second you set your bag down at the table between the two of you and slide into a chair right across from him, gojo’s lungs stuttered a bit.
you only hummed in response, pulling out your note book and laptop to get started.
the two of you worked surprisingly well. when you weren’t focused on the fact that you thought he was the biggest jerk, you stayed focused on the diagrams, equations, and questions. it was easy enough, the work was divided and notes were passed around.
for a good hour or so, the two of you were simply people who shared no past and no future. only the present. you held no names and no weight. and in that weird space, you found yourself able to guide him, work with him, even listen as he explained his part to you.
during research, you fell into comfortable silence. gojo preferred to look through the physical copy of the text if it wasn’t already taken out by someone else, while you arranged the information found online on your neatly organized google doc you shared with him.
a site was taking too long to load and you leaned back in your chair, eyes briefly flickering away to scan the premises. everyone was working away diligently, eyes locked onto their bright screens, pens gliding over lined paper. someone in the far end sketched while the person closest to you drew diagrams for what looked like an architecture project.
finally, your eyes slid over to the person right in front of you. satoru was currently slightly hunched over a book, his fingers holding down the corner from flipping. his eyes slid over the page before he quickly glanced over his own computer and wrote something down. something you will probably have to fix later because he doesnt organize his notes the way you do. his white headphones rested over his ears, and you found yourself wondering what kind of music he listened to. his foot seized tapping as fast as before, now going at a much slower pace, most likely to match whatever rhythm he was playing in his headphones.
it was kind of unfair, you thought, your bottom lip jutted out as your frowned, how good he looked just studying. absolutely not conscious of the way he is perceived at the moment. his hair fell perfectly over his brows, ends curling around his pale face that held the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes, and the slightly pink lips he wet once in a while, while muttering an equation.
he still held the title of the biggest asshole to you, but you were not blind and therefore would not deny his attractiveness.
your screen flashed blue, the website finally deciding to grace you with the much needed information. your eye flickered away from the pretty nerd before you and you leaned back in, diving back into your project.
—
you stretched up, letting out a soft groan at the tensions in your back from sitting, in a probably very unappealing position, for hours, while grinding away at a project.
the hour was late and the library held around 5 students, all fighting against sleep and hunger.
you took off your headphones that at this point gave you a headache, pulled off your black hair tie that held up your hair in a ponytail — the release immediately caused some of the stress and tautness to be released.
this caught gojos eye, he first scanned the time. late, a little too late. then he finally eased his eyes at you. your hair fell so pretty, framing your face under the dim yellow lights, exhaustion written in your eyes, and the twitch of your fingers indicated an ache from writing so much.
gojo pulled his own headphones to hang on his neck. “done for tonight?” his voice came out soft, as to keep the peace of the library and the fragile connection the two of you built intact.
“yeah, pretty much.” you quietly shut your laptop and he followed suit. “just one part i dont get… and dont go mumbling how stupid i am under your breath again.” you said with a chuckle, as if it was a joke the both of you were aware of. but gojo did not catch whatever you referred to. instead, he caught the bitter lilt to your voice, as if you were painfully trying to mask this comment as witty and not a rude remark.
your heart still squeezed at the memory of that day. of the absolute terror you felt as you realized you were unable to stop your tears or fear that every single person though you were not smart enough to be in this program.
gojos snowy eyebrows pinched together at his confusion. your comment made no sense to him, but he did not point it out, out of the fear of creating space between the two of you again. you had a reason for saying that, but why was it directed at him?
the lack of his response indicated to you that you should probably just leave. there was no reason to beat a dead horse, right?
the chair scraped the floor slightly as you rose up from it and gojo snapped out of his hazy, tumbling thoughts, and followed immediately, like he couldn’t bare you being a couple of feet away from him. his hand tugged on his half open bag, struggling to close it and rush after you.
“are we- uh.. should we do this again?” the two of you stood outside, your breaths created a translucent cloud in the chilled air.
“probably,” you tucked your hands into your hoodie before they froze off. “we should really work more on this project.”
“yeah, right. the project,” gojo scratched the back of his neck, his eyes darted away from yours as you two stood in silence.
“yeah, kay. g’night.” you turned on the balls of your feet to walk towards the parking lot, you just wanted to escape the awkwardness as soon as possible. you guessed that leaving the library lifted the thin presence of a symbiotic relationship you had with gojo.
“oh! should i- well, can i walk you back?” he took one tentative step behind you and stopped suddenly, not wanting to come off as creepy.
you threw him a glance over your shoulder that said ‘as if i cant protect myself’. “im fine.”
“right, night!” gojo swallowed, gaze following your retreating body with a sort of longing he should not posses as man that never even had you in the first place.
—
the entire walk back to his own apartment, gojo kept replaying that comment in his head. muttering? calling you stupid? were you even talking about him, or was that a general comment? an attempt at a joke?
this thought haunted him for the following two weeks.
while he was brushing his teeth in the morning. shirt discarded somewhere in his messy room. only blue pajama pants hanging low on his hips. hair tussled from the pillows. but the only thought in his head — when did i ever call her stupid? i would never! shes one of the smartest people i know.
or when passing in between lectures. the trees around the quad stood blossoming. the cool weather has finally passed and now new flower buds were springing up from every surface. making the university look like the photos straight out of brochures. but gojo couldnt focus on the blooming buds and blossoming trees. because he was too busy replaying every conversation he ever had with you.
he was cooking breakfast? burned the eggs because his mind got caught in the way your voice sharpened around a word.
“do you remember me ever mentioning something like that?”
geto looked up from his phone, sprawled over the couch. “uh, no. dont believe so.”
“then why! i have this nagging feeling that whatever she meant by that was very important.”
“maybe youre reading into it, like always.”
satoru chewed at his bottom lip, hands delving into his hair as if he was trying to physically pull out the buried memories.
“satoru,” geto sat up, looking at his friend like he needed serious saving. “relax. you’ll figure it out. how about we get your mind off of it, hm? you’ve been stuck on this damn girl for a bit too long,” he pulled his white haired friends hands away from his face. “c’mon. we got a party to go to,” gets’s voice raised in pitch in a coaxing manner, a sly smile pulling at his lips.
and somehow that worked. because suguru and satoru were walking through the doors of a bustling party. it was chiller than a regular college rave, but still held a very classic party vibe. the colored lights were flashing in the main area, the side rooms equipped warmer, lower lights. the couches were arranged in a conversation pit style, assuming the position for a large group. pieces of loud conversations could be heard all around the rooms as songs switched in intensity.
they found themselves in a familiar group of people. all lounging around, red cups lazily held by their fingers, talking over the music away from the main room.
someone from the said group — offhandedly, simply meaning it as a joke — made a passing comment about satoru. something simple, along the lines of — “glad satoru isn’t the same snob as he was sophomore year, always sulking and muttering about. now he can finally have some fun” which the usual cheers and passing of drinks accompanied right after.
but that really stuck with him. so that comment you made? about muttering something rude under his breath? that really was about him.
but instead of feeling regret, some sort of remorse. guilt? no. gojo felt… angry. annoyed.
it was so petty of you — the reason was so incredibly stupid, gojo could not grasp how you could handle putting both of your grades in danger, be such a pain to him for basically no reason, and still hold that grudge. from so long ago.
geto leaned back against the couch, arms crossing over his chest as he burrowed himself deep in thought.
something was finally clicking, whatever he must have said to you, pieces were coming back to him. slowly and hazy, but they were starting to come together.
and then pow- it hit him like a brick. the memory of that sophomore class. he couldnt even remember the topic being discussed in class that day, but he could finally recall what he said. ‘how can someone not know this?’
gojo scoffed under his breath, the conversation taking place around him loud enough to swallow the soft, frustrated sound.
it wasn’t long before he caught you across the room. who knew you would show up to the same party he did? as annoyed as gojo wanted to stay, his eyes kept wondering towards you. as if you were something so captivating his body simply would not go against the desire to feast upon your beauty.
you were awfully bored in your apartment tonight, the place so quiet while your thoughts were so loud, you simply had to crawl out. you hit up the first party with enough people you could find. not like you needed an invite. a low enough top or a short enough skirt could get you in anywhere.
your eyes flickered around the room, occasionally landing on the same white block of hair. you assumed gojo wasn’t much of a party goer. but here he was. as much as you were ‘warming up’ to him, if you could even call it that. you still preferred to have your outings not be noted by his piercingly perceptive blue eyes.
the main area was dark, only flashing lights occasionally provided you enough light to see where you were going or who was around you. pushing through a mess of bodies, you finally made it to the drink table. you went for an empty cup, but someones long fingers were already wrapping around it.
you pulled back, muttering a sorry and reaching for another empty cup, only to notice that the table was cleared. that was obviously the last one.
you glanced up to see the blue eyes that cut through the darkness, that did not lose their intensity even as the color of the room flashed and switched. gojos eyes were tenser than usual, crinkling in the corners, framed by long, beautiful snowy lashes, almost glaring down at you.
“chivalry is dead, huh?” you huffed, “cant even offer a lady her cup anymore.” you shook your head and instead reached for a bottle. but it was already being knocked from your grip by him, why in the world did you keep reaching for the same stuff!
you whipped your head around, glaring back up at him. “can you not be in my way, please?” it was a bit rude, your snappy tone even catching you off guard, but the room was hot, the music was too loud, and you just wanted a damn drink.
to your surprise, gojo didnt step back. didnt apologize profusely nor did he blush furiously like he did many times before. no. his eyes narrowed behind his thin wired glasses. “what is your problem?”
it was cutting. the tone that made you feel guilty immediately. it made your eyes widen and your heartbeat speed up, your brain already scurrying to escape the situation. you feel as if you are about to get scolded, but instead you straighten up, meeting his gaze head on.
“what? i am just trying to get a drink.”
“no.” gojo leaned forward, nose inches away. “i mean what is your goddamn problem? is it attention you want?” he scoffed, even though you provided no answer. he didnt need verbal confirmation. in his mind, he had you figured out. and that idea of you, he hated her. that is someone he truly could despise. so gojo didnt feel so bad once he continued. “i muttered something one, once under my breath. and you-“ he laughed. a laugh that held no humor what so ever, and instead increased the anxiety you were trying to hide by tenfold. “you blew it out of proportion. do you know how stupid that is? i literally was bending over backwards trying to get you to talk to me so we can at least pass the damn class together. and all of that? all that attitude- was because of something i muttered two years ago? youre unbelievable.”
once he finished with his rant that somehow did not get swallowed by the loud music around you, anger flashed in your eyes. all throughout your veins. because of course he would think it was stupid. “you dont get it at all, do you?”
“what is there to get? little miss attention seeker.”
you grabbed his sleeve, for some reason needing him to know exactly how he made you feel. shove his stupid, pretty face straight into the truth.
you pushed him into the first random room you could find. locking the door after yourself. “that’s what you think i wanted?”
gojo was out of breath and so were you. you were seething and he was realizing he is locked alone in a room with you.
“attention? i could live just fine without your attention!” you snapped once again, but this time it wasn’t annoyance. your tone was so sharp, so raw, that gojo awoke from his imagination of you. realizing now he was too late. he has really fucked up.
“you dont know what its like being part of a group that systematically rejects you. you would never understand that! what it feels like to break every piece of yourself off just to try and fit it. to swallow your emotions and complaints and be nice to every single asshole because youre scared of never being accepted.” hot, angry tears built at the back of your eyes, a knot was tightening in your throat. “your-hic!” tears spilled from your eyes without your permission and you felt so stupid, crying in front of a guy who definitely did not deserve it. “your fucking comment made me feel so useless. so stupid. like i would never find my place. never belong.” you turned away, wiping angrily at your tears. ashamed of admitting that he had this much influence over you. “go and mutter all you want under your breath, but you words hold weight. a ton of fucking weight.”
you couldnt handle meeting his eyes and simply ran out before he had the time to say anything. this was just like you sophomore year. running away with tears in your eyes. how ironic. and pathetic.
gojo stood in that dark room, watching the door slowly closing. he was frozen, unable to move whatsoever after you spilled your heart out. the image he had of you? absolutely vanished. of course you would put up a front against him. he was an asshole to you without even being prompted. and even now, he decided to trust his twisted idea of you that made him feel better about himself rather than genuinely asking you why something that seemed so small to him, made you so upset.
—
your project with gojo was done. every single document has been submitted. and for the next couple of days, you decided not to show up. it was weak of you, you knew. you should be stronger and go to the lecture, sit through it like nothing happened and nothing bothered you.
but a lot happened.
and a lot bothered you.
so you chose your peace and stayed in your apartment. the assignments that followed the project were all online anyway and you got most of your notes from your friend. and your professor was sweet enough to email you detailed lesson pages and whatever was discussed in class that day. and plus you didnt have to see that smart-ass anywhere else.
after only going to your other lectures, staying home, and venturing out to the library, you craved to go out. literally anywhere. the grocery store, the thrifts, even the dining hall. hell, even the vending machine at the corner of the uni!
but the downpour was awful.
absolutely horrible. it has been this way since you woke up. and it was already past midday. the rain did not even cease for five minutes for you to step out on to your balcony and enjoy the fresh, cool air.
of course, even mother nature had to ruin your plans. you opted for a cozy night in — again. another quite night, you guessed.
but as soon as you turned down the living room lights, the fluorescence of the tv mixing in with the warmth of your lamps, and wrapped yourself in a blanket, a serious of hurried, unorganized knocks came at your door. then the doorbell, and then more knocks.
absolutely no one you knew would be breaking down your door right now. or ever really. so who was so desperate to get in?
you shrugged off the blanket and stalked towards the door. your fingers flicked the lock and wrapped around the door handle before pulling it in, revealed a drenched gojo.
his white hair was plastered all over his forehead in messy strands. his glasses were covered in raindrops. his white shirt, with some goofy design on it, was drenched through and through. he held a dripping sweater in his hand, indicating that the rain was able to soak him through two layers.
he looked absolutely pathetic. eyebrows pinched together and pulled up in that pleading expression of his. his fingers tightened and trembled over the sweater as he stood, creating a puddle of rainwater by your door.
“im sorry,” satoru broke down. his voice cracking as he struggled to take a breath. did he run here? through the rain?
“im so sorry, y/n” he whispered your name, again and again. his knees gave out from exhaustion. knees colliding with the floor, hands bracing himself against your doorframe.
he noticed you have missed the lectures. of course. he was the one that hacked into the professors email so he could stay up half the night, writing out lecture lessons and notes, he knew you would never read his emails. he knew you already blocked his number. so he had to get creative. he couldnt sleep some nights. the guilt gnawed at his insides like a starving dog at a peace of meat. his stomach turned every time he recollected the way your eyes shone with tears and his heart twisted every time he recalled your sharp but honest words. he missed you so much, your pretty face, your rude remarks, your lingering glances you thought he didnt notice.
“im such an idiot. i know i was, and still am.” he lifted his head, meeting your confused gaze. they were so wide and earnest, blue and sparkling with unshed tears, “i didnt- i didnt know it made you feel that way. i hate myself for making you feel that way. youre so incredibly smart and i- fuck. i think about you so much- admire you so much it hurts.”
he looked like a kicked puppy. his eyes slid over your backlit form and he couldnt help but whimper. actually whimper at the sight of you.
“please give me a chance. please.” gojo begged. shaky hands coming up to gently hold the back of your thighs. “ill be good. i promise. i will never mistreat you like i did. you deserve so much better. please, please let me give you that. let me show you i am worth it. i can be that for you.”
something warm pooled in your stomach at his continuous pleading. like your presence in his life was above the presence of air.
your fingers raked through his wet hair and gojos breath stuttered. “youll be good?”
your fingers tightened in his hair and gojos eyes fluttered shut. “so good.” he muttered.
neither of you moved. the tv quietly kept playing something in the empty room behind you. the rain still hammering hard against the window.
you studied him quietly. not the smart, know it all, infuriating boy.
but the exhausted, vulnerable, raw, real satoru.
his eyes fluttered open again and he looked at you as if you held his future in your hands. like he was giving up his full autonomy to you.
his fingers flexed against the back of your thighs before releasing, afraid he was doing too much.
“you ran here?”
a laugh escapes his lips, broken and embarrassed.
“yeah.”
“in the storm?”
a soft nod followed.
“that’s stupid.”
“i know.”
“you couldve gotten sick.”
“i know. i dont care. i had to see you.”
your lips twitched despite yourself and the sight of that knocked all air out of gojos lungs.
his gaze slithered over to your lips but he felt as if he didnt deserve the sight of that, didnt deserve your soft smile. he looked down again.
“look at me,”
and once again, there was so much hope in his eyes it made your chest ache.
“gojo-“
“no, satoru, please. call me satoru.”
you sighed, “satoru-“
you could see the goosebumps rise on his skin simply from the way you said his name.
“i meant it,” he interrupted, voice a bit calmer now but not lacking any meaning. “i know i dont deserve another chance. i know that. but if there’s even the smallest possibility.”
his throat bobbed.
“ill spend as long as it takes proving it.”
your hand slipped form his hair to his cheek and and satoru froze. not because he did not want the touch, but because he wanted it too much. so much. he dreamed of you touching him in every way possible.
“youre such an idiot,” you murmured.
gojo melted into your touch, cheek pressing into your palm, seeking any and all the warmth and comfort it had to offer.
Being with a gangster is a bad decision, haven’t you thought of that? But leaving him is hard because he’s been so good to you. You try to end it because he’s bad, but you’re fucking with him at the end anyway. In short: you’re addicted to mista, a literal gangster. But you throw your morals for dick at the end haha.
TW! Mature and Sexual Content.
Note: Contains Neapolitan dialect (Mista is a native of Naples). Translation provided below.
-
Mista, Mista, Mista…He knows what he’s doing. But do you? You wish you did. He’s a great lover, you hate to admit that. Addicting more like it. You come back to him everytime, you're experiencing withdrawal from a drug you’ve never even taken. He’s so good to you that you shiver just one night away from him. He’s hard to quit, you’ve tried.
“Amorina, I know you don’t want to. I see it in your eyes bambina.” His words hypnotized you, standing on your doorstep he was here because you called. He could tell you were serious, but truly you didn’t mean it did you? At least you truly meant it on the phone. But hearing him, seeing his gaze look deep into you, you’re not sure if you can leave him again.
“No, no. I can’t, not with your new ‘position’ now.” Ah right, your morals are telling you not to get attached to a literal gangster. With a higher rank at that, the Don’s right hand man. Danger is much closer than ever. Perhaps you finally understood that your gifts were tainted in blood. But now Guido’s not just an underdog anymore, he’s the right hand of the Passione boss. High status, high risk. You’re scared for your life, or afraid of what people would think? Mista thinks otherwise. People would talk.
He chuckles, his soft voice seems to mock your moral ground. At least, you think he is. He looks at you, grabs the palm of your right hand, and caresses it. You flinch at first, but you know he means no harm right now. “Amorina, not a single inch of you will be touched by Naples. Not with me, so why fear it?” He scoffed as he thought of his next words, he turned his gaze back onto you.
“Haven’t I been good to you? I’ve kept my world away from yours—“ he kissed your palm, placed it on his warm cheeks now. “Let you breathe in your own air, away from mine. So why fear us? Answer me mama” he gave a soft smirk at you, the way he looked at you…it’s teasing. Like he knows he’s won, he knows your deep desire is to let him fully embrace you. The core of your heart has his soul imprinted onto it.
You shook your head, eyes closing at the thought. Either you know he’s right, or that your morals are losing your grip, either way your pride gets the best of you.
“What’s this look? Amorina, answer me.” He gave a soft smile at you, a predatory comfort. Prey caught in a trap. You opened your eyes, finding him only a mere inches away from your face. He’d move his steps closer. His hand caressing your palm in his cheek, comforting you, making you feel safe in his arms.
“I can’t, y-you know what people will say. I can’t have blood in my hands.” You blurted, like a confession to a priest. Shameful but freeing.
“There’s always blood in Napoli, it’s not my bambina’s hands doing it isn’t it? That’s not your problem Amorina.” His gaze turns serious, the way his brown pupils turn lifeless, his brows now straighter than the usual furrowed one whenever he smiles. A serious tone, not anger but you can tell he means it, his grip soft but it feels tighter than if he was squeezing it tight.
“I know I’m morally fucked, but you are too bambina. I know you love me, you love me so fucking bad. You’ll stay even if you’ve tried to leave.” He gives a teasing smile, his life back in his eyes. Kissing the palm of your now sweaty hands, he continues his gaze onto you.”You can leave anytime, I’m not holding a leash, but you’ll always stay. I know your heart is mine mama, forget this mess, I know you love the taste of me. Couldn’t get it off your tongue hmm?” Spoken with such confidence, your ego hates it. But he’s so fucking right and you despise it.
You hate how he’s now up against your face, inches from your lips. You hate how you shook your head from holding back, saying no in your head. You don’t say anything, but he can read you. “Si Si Amorina, I know your heart. Let it go mama, we’re meant for each other. You know it” he whispers by your cheek, just by your ear. You hate how intoxicating he is, and yet you love him too much to let your morals win.
And this is where our gangster wins. You keep coming back to him, he’s so good to you.
“Ah! Guido guido guido, fuck right there right there right there! Oh god—“ your blabbering, mumbling obscenity as he fucks you over the bed. The soft beige sheets, crumpled and messy from the way you two move over the bed. Your hair, pulled by his left hand as he rams his cock into you. You’ll always end up on his cock afterall. Make up sex is a guilty pleasure, you hate how he makes you feel good, and you hate how it boosts his ego. For him? A trophy for his win, he’s always right. So he says.
He loves it when you two choose doggy, makes him feel so deep into you. He can feel you pulsating his cock, what a cunt you own. The way your ass hits his hips, his sweat acts like glue to your body. It’s so electric.
“Si si bambinaaa, you feel so good madonnaa. Don’t I make you feel so good, huh?” He groans as his hips move just deep enough, not too slow or harsh, just right. Your moans are enough to confirm what he wants to hear, but you try to mumble back.
“Don’t tease me, j-just make me c-cummm oh god—“ you tried finishing your sentence, but the way his fingers reached your clit, and the way his cock is mating with your cunt, makes it so hard. You’re moaning and mumbling like a fool. Self respect is a myth by now.
Your moans act like a siren call, instructing him to go faster without any words. His hips rutted faster, your moans were so hot to him. You were his Parthenope, the siren of Naples. Your voice lures men like him, he falls under your moans.
Grunting, you can tell he’s close. He’s holding back, he wants to savor your flesh. He lowers his body, his toned and tanned chest touches your back. Skin to skin, the vibration of skin touching and him moving inside you? Sensual heaven.
Pleasure in the wrong place, he’s a bad man, but your cunt says otherwise. He grunts, his breath so hot near your ears. Feels ticklish. He whispers, “You see how good I treat you? I won’t ever hurt an inch of you, d-don’t worry Amorina.” He then smirks, you can feel his smile through the shape of his mouth. “Maybe not on the outside, but might hurt an inch of your insides, only if you tell me to” he chuckles, his wet lips giving a quick peck on your cheeks. He’s teasing. You can’t help moaning like a fucking fool, the teasing, the way his cock ruts inside you, you can’t help geting so wet. Using his left arm to keep you locked with his body, he allows his bicep to keep your body pinned up against his on the bed.
“So tell me bambina, amore d’a vita mia, will you stay with me this time?” He shut his eyes while he inquired, you were squeezing him tight, he was holding back. But you were trying too. Your pride was there, you can’t be with a criminal and you’re morally good, a were a good pers—
“Uè! puttanella, I’m asking you a question.” He squeezed your cheeks tight, glaring at you to answer his question. Your thoughts were interrupted by his voice, he’s cursing you out. But fuck you liked it. His gaze was predatory, and his hips were moving harder. Your answer was cut short with a moan, and you tried to speak. “Y-yes, fine I’m sorry. I will.” You gave in. What a whore you were, giving up your morals for an orgasm? Or was your heart and mind set for him all this time? Whatever you decide, he chuckles, then kissed your lips like a hungry dog.
Releasing his lips from yours, a trail of saliva follows. His lips inches from yours, a grin painted on his face. He moans, then speaking in short breath, he spoke. “I knew you were reasonable. You’re my girl for a reason, so smart, so loving.” His smile lingers, but his compliment felt more like an insult rather than admiration. Whatever it was, his spell worked. You were close.
“Guido, I’m so close. T-tell me, tell me you love me, god!” You blurted, a mess. Sweat glistening on your body, hair a muck like a bird’s nest, your cunt bruised from the ram of his cock. But it didn’t matter now, it never did right? You’re infatuated with him. Didn’t matter if you threw your morals for his cock, he made you feel so good.
Your tongue may be tied, but your cunt can’t lie.
He loved what he heard, you hated what your heart had in mind. His hips moved even harder, faster, like rabbits in spring. “I love you. I love you. I love you bambina, that’s what I wanted to hear. I know you’d never l-leave me.” His words were interrupted by his grunt, his cock is red and angry inside you. Ramming like a bull, ready to fill your cunt with seed. “Guido, I-I’m so close, o-oh my god. Guido—“ you shut your eyes, you’re so close, you’ll cum any time soon. “Si bambin-na, come with me. Seal the bond, we have to mama” Pinning you even deeper into the bed, the two of you acted like animals.
He ruts even quicker, till you feel it, oh there it is. Heaven. “Guido! Agh!” You scream, your cunt squeezing every last drop of his cock. “Azz! Merda!” He shouts after you, pinning your body down. His hips stop thrusting to finalize with a hard thrust, he releases his seed. He pins your body, your legs shaking and trembling from the pleasure, he’s holding you to comfort you. Your knees still shake, the aftermath is still there. Your cunt is so sensitive, so red and bruised, so full of cum.
The orgasm keeps running slow for a few seconds, he says nothing but kisses your temple, that soft spot between your ear and eyes. Comforting you, and when you stop shaking, he pulls out slowly. His seed dripping from your slobbering cunt, there’s so much fluid. He hasn’t done it in a while, it seems, been holding it for you. Cradling you on the bed, he holds you as you catch your breath. It’s all so overwhelming, you feel tears in your eyes. How embarrassing, you’re feeling so much yet it’s all so fucking good, is it guilt? Shame? Comfort? For Mista you're just overwhelmed. He comforts you, he always does. You feel everything, your head is spinning with thoughts he wonders why your head hasn’t blown up yet. So many thoughts, what a heart you carry. Kissing the back of your neck, he whispers.
“Me faje impazzire, Dolcezza Mia.”
After a while, you’ve calmed down. He gently helps by flipping you over, your back now laying on the soft fabric. Your nipples hard, wet with marks from his bites, your body glistening with sweat, you were a mess. Your face was a mess, for Mista it was a piece of art. Your heavy eyes, hazy with tears and a realization of how lustrous you were. Your cheeks are red and rosy, your natural flush. The way your dried up tears painted your face, your surprised Mista isn’t hard again due to how sensual you looked. And your lips..my god. The most lush he’s ever seen, wet with spit like you were wearing lip gloss, pinkish tint that looks so kissable. He imagined your lips reaching the edge of his cock when you were deepthroating him.
He had to kiss you after that thought, but this time like the lover he is. Slow, sweet, instinctively you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You were the one trapping him this time. Slowly, you let go from the kiss, you stared at his gaze. Heavy, curious. “We’ll talk, we have to.” You spoke, your tone was gentle but it seems you gained your morals back. Or courage it seems. “I’m here all night bambina, you know that.” His response was genuine, you knew he wasn’t a full on..bad guy. He loves you, and that part is what your heart and mind is conflicted about.
Aftercare is softer. You felt his embrace, skin to skin but it wasn’t lustful this time. Sensual embrace, the one your heart desires, the one your skin misses each time he’s away. He’s sitting on the bed, his back to the headboard, but his tanned arms engulfs your body in a warm hug. He’s caressing your arms, his touch is soft, his chest is bare and warm. You were laying on his chest, it gives you comfort, comfort you need for the courage to talk with him.
Breathing softly, you’re at ease. “You know I love you. But you also know I can’t have blood on my hands, people will know. At the end of the day, I’m just scared. I can’t get involved with passione.” He can sense your worry, he kisses your forehead, he understands the concern.
“Amorina, I understand. It’s different now, blood is stained with the old boss. The new Don, he’s different. He’s young, he’s doing it differently. Regardless of how he does it, I’m there for him.” His tone was sincere, he’s always been honest to you. Got nothing to hide, at least not anymore. He lays his chin on your collarbone, his voice vibrating on your shoulder, it feels much more intimate. “Giorno’s good, and he trusts me. I’ve got you on my mind, I know what’s right and wrong. If I didn’t know, I would’ve died on the streets.” His gaze faces yours, you naturally look into his, he smiles at you.
“Nun c’ pensà, you won’t get involved. Now can you rest that pretty smart head of yours, and give me a smile?” He teased you, but he was being sincere. You gave him a timid smile, and looked into his gaze. In an almost desperate tone you inquired, “You promise, this time?” waiting for his reply, your heart raced. He gives you a peck on the cheek.
“Mi cuore, I’ll do whatever it takes.”
He keeps his promise after that, you hope he does. If he isn’t there with you, he’ll call you on the line.
His voice is enough to make his presence felt in your room. “Don’t worry bambina, I’ll be there tomorrow night. Put on that Pucci dress I got for you, I miss seeing your curves in silk.” He was busy again, higher rank meant bigger responsibilities. But you felt his hunger through the phone. “I will, just—“ you hesitated for a moment on the line, he could feel your worry. “Be safe, I know I know it’s stupid. Just remember to um keep things at ease..” you didn’t know if you sounded stupid or anxious, either way he got your point. “Bambina, I wouldn’t even dare cross your words!” He assured you on the phone, chuckling at the end. Then you heard his sigh on the line, his voice came again,
“You have my word, don’t fret bambina. Tutt a post.”
Tutt a post. Everything is fine, he meant it. You hope it does. You wish he wasn’t a sweet talker, and you pray Don Giovanna would give Naples mercy.
Divider credit: By Saradika-graphics
TRANSLATION GLOSSARY:
Madonna: Refering to the Holy mother, a common Italian saying similar to omg (Oh my God). The realistic equivalent to Mamma Mia in everyday Italian.
Puttanella: whore. A harsher term for it, similar to putana which is the same meaning. Means more of a whorish girl.
Me faje impazzire: You drive me crazy. This saying is not in typical Italian(the one we typically hear and use), it’s in the Neapolitan dialect/language.
Amore d’a vita mia: My love, the love of my life. Uses Neapolitan dialect but same meaning in typical Italian.
Me dai na voce: Give me a Voice/Let me know. Neapolitan slang/saying, not in the Tuscan dialect (typical Italian).
Cuore: Heart.
Azz!: Neapolitan exclamation of surprise, taken from the word Cazzo (dick).
Tutt’ a post’: All good/ Everything is fine. Neapolitan dialect form, typical Italian would be Tutto a Posto.
Nun c’ pensá: Don’t think about it/worry about it. Neapolitan saying, the Nun is said to be trimmed to just N.
Ué!: Similar to oi! But Neapolitan style it seems.
Merda!: shit.
Bambina: My baby/my little girl.
Amorina: My love. More used in the south, a more feminine version of Amore.
Note: You can tell who’s my jojo fav. Also sorry if it’s not accurate in the translation leave me basta. Also might pull this up in A03 but idk man, anyways this fic so toxic I love. I had a vision where he’s so bad for us yes papi.
your newlywed husband begs you to stop using condoms
suggestive content! 🔞
who would’ve thought the strongest sorcerer would be begging on his knees for you?
“pleeeaseee…” satoru whines, on his knees before you. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at your husband who’s kneeling in front of you. his torso is bare, strong arms wrapped around your waist as he rests his chin on your knee.
“satoru, i said no. we can’t risk anything.” you scold him gently.
“but i just wanna try it! i’ll pull out if you want. please baby?” you have to admit, his begging is kind of convincing. the two of you had never gone raw before, and you couldn’t say you weren’t curious.
but good sense came first. he was always so busy with work and away for missions, and you have your own life that just can’t be interrupted by a baby right now.
“you won’t pull out, idiot.” you mutter, looking down at his big blue eyes and the pout on his lips. what a brat.
“i will! promise!” his voice cracks a little as he exclaims. you sigh, reaching a hand out to card through his fluffy white locks.
“and plus… so what if you get pregnant? we’re married now, and there’s nothing i want more in the whole world than to have a family with you.” he adds, voice dropping lower and more sincere.
you just blink at him a few times, before parting your lips to say something. he interrupts you.
“and i know i’m always busy, but i swear to you, i’ll cut back my hours. i’m serious, babe. you’re my wife now, and my priority. you always have been.”
it’s quiet for a few moments where you two just look into each others eyes.
“okay.” you finally mutter, a small smile forming on your lips. “let’s do it.”
satoru’s eyes brightened, and he leaned up to press his lips to yours in a passionate kiss.
“i love you.” he whispered against your lips.
and despite you being so unsure, and this whole thing being scary, you knew that after everything, you would always have him.
“i love you too.”
||a/n: sorry for the inactivity but the semester is finally over!! uni was kicking my butt the last few weeks but i’m hoping to get back into writing soon 💆♀️
synopsis . Getting cumdrunk on the king of curses and slapping him for more. content . afab!reader, breeding kink, trueform!sukuna, milking him dry, reader is feral, established relationship, slapping, slight use of his stomach mouth, breath play, biting, neediness, pet names, double pen, rough sex, nervous dom!reader, choking, he eventually submits to you, sukuna's a masochist, he whines & denies it every time, etc.
"More," You'd huffed, elated on your past few highs and desperately bouncing up and down one of your monstrous husband’s cocks—the other flaccid and left to rub in between the curve of your ass.
"There is no more, you insolent woman." Sukuna puffed right back, splayed out absolutely ruined beneath you. His gaze was as vexing as it were loving on you, having felt dazed by just how craving you seemed to be today. "You've already milked the both of my cocks dry. What 'more' do you desire from me?"
Technically, he wasn’t wrong.
Not in the slightest. There’s a goopy slather of cum sloshing in between where the two of you are currently connected, a slick white puddle created around the base of his thick cock, and his balls feel weak from how much you’ve drained them thus far.
Even so, your hips rock forward and the grasp he has on them gets tighter as you pout, "Wanna' give you an heir, 'Kuna."
Sukuna’s eyes roll elsewhere as you say that, a vein painting itself out across his jawline, "Don't tell me that."
"But I do," You whine immediately. His claw-like nails grind into your skin and he sucks in a sharp breath of air as you squeeze around his cock in needy moderation.
Looking down, Sukuna’s eyes soften ever so slightly at the filthy mess of semen pooling the outskirts of your puffy pussy lips. "I'm sure you will be pregnant after this-"
"S'Not enough," You gasp, lifting your frame up a few inches and forcing him to watch his own cum string between your skin and his.
He then grits teeth and shoots his eyes up to yours, "What has gotten into you, hm?"
"I dunno," You manage a smile, "I just want more. Won't you give me more, my lord?" Just as you purr those words out, your body is arching forward and the hands he had mindlessly toying with your nipples halt for a moment.
He groans deeply then. "More cannot even fit in here," Then all four of his hands travel to your waist to squeeze you, one slipping down just to swipe up a dribble of his seed, "It's already dripping out."
"So put more in." You manage to push down past his hold on you and your mouth soon latches onto his neck, sucking at his skin desperately while you lightly roll your hips forward, "Please?"
"I cannot-, ah." A short sound, one of which nearly misses your ears—seems to fall from his lips all lightly and delicately. "Did you just bite me, wife?"
Your teeth sink into the side of his neck a little harder and the cock you have stuffed inside you hardens back up immediately.
Then your tongue laps over the area you just bit him in and you pull back a little, "Mhm," You hum, rocking your hips forward again just for his hands to clasp onto you tighter—nails digging into your skin. "And did you just whine, 'Kuna?"
"I did no such thing." He denies.
"You did." You argue as your tongue slicks down along his neck before you begin kissing at his tensing skin, "You liked that, didn't you?"
"Perhaps," Sukuna mutters honestly.
How could he possibly lie to his precious wife when you’re like this?
Right then, you maneuver all the way upright and as he looks up, he’s reminded of why he married you in the first place. You’re a beautiful mess of his touches—imprints of his nails strung out across all areas of your body, skin slick in areas where he’d licked earlier, and marks of biting left in the most obscene of places.
As if to surprise him further and give him yet another reason to experience love in his heart for you, your hand greets his neck and you use whatever strength you have in you to force him further down against the silks below.
"Mmgh-, choking me now?" Sukuna husks, cock jolting inside you with a nasty twitch, his eyes going wide, and breath threatening to stutter in his lungs. Then he smiles wickedly, "Come now, wife. If you want more from me like you so claim, squeeze harder."
And squeeze harder you do, earning a sharp buck of his hips that even Sukuna himself wasn't expecting. His eyes flutter back a little and he grunts, sharp teeth flaring for a moment with the way his mouth opens all beast-like.
You can feel how erratically his dick is twitching inside you, aching to fuck something all the more sinful into you. All whilst his second cock is felt throbbing in between your asscheeks, silently pleading to enter you once more.
You’d already spent the past however many hours switching back ‘n forth between both of his lengths, draining each for all their worth, and even stuffing both into that greedy cunt of yours just to suck an impossible amount of his cum into you.
Sukuna’s massive body shifts a bit, as if to escape you for a moment so he can catch his breath, but your grip on his throat gets tighter and his brows furrow.
Noticing his attempt at escaping you, your head tilts and you scoff, “Give me an heir if you wish to breathe.”
The irony of your words—as if he hadn’t already stuffed you to the brim with his seed already—is almost enough to make him laugh.
“O-Oh,” Sukuna stammers for the first time—possibly in his life—his eyes fluttering further back into his skull as he finds himself so fully in awe of you. “Fuuck,” The curse flies out his throat as if pained but a big smile sprawls out across his kiss-swollen lips. “Take.. hahh… take the heir from me, wife. Fuck one out of me.”
Those magic words seem to do it for you as your hips return with momentum, rocking ‘n bouncing on his cock within the next few seconds as he relishes in the feel of you using him.
“Mnh! Sukuna,” You’re moaning again, the sound a sweet melody to his ears as his smile remains up until you add a pretty, “You feel s’good inside me.”
“Do not praise me, woman.” Sukuna’s brows scrunch up again and he groans. “I am still your king—“ The last word hardly falls from his tongue before he’s met with a sharp pain flying across his cheek, the feeling earning a feral thrust of his hips up into yours.
His brain sputters for a moment as he processes what the hell you just did. Never in all his years has a human ever had the audacity to hit him in such a way.
And fuck if it doesn’t drive him absolutely insane.
His head is slow to turn as he blinks, “…Did you just slap me?”
You’re visibly nervous, holding your hand near yourself as you gulp, “I-I’m sorry, I just..”
His hands lock onto your body to keep you in place and you merely blink once or twice before he’s moving. One of his other hands move down and he’s glaring at you whilst steadily adjusting his second—now fully erect—cock into you. The stretch of both his dicks inside you again has your body spasming forward as you shudder in pleasure.
Then his face twists up—cheeks pink with blush—and his jaw falls open to display his shock from prior as he huffs, “Again, wife. Hnngh-, please slap me again.”
Your head shakes, “Sukuna, I cannot—“
“I command it.” Your husband grits out all brat-like.
You hit him again, a little harder than the first time, and there’s yet another thiiiiick load of cum gushing out of his sweltering cockheads into your pussy. The sudden burst has his seed spurting out everywhere from where you’re stuffed—splashing up against his abdomen and leaking all down his twitching balls.
You finally feel as though that was enough to breed you like you’d wanted and Sukuna’s half lucid with how much he’d just emptied into you.
With a pleased grin on your face, you soon look down and let your brows shoot up in surprise as you catch the way his stomach mouth laps at a bit of his cum.
“Sukuna,” You snicker, “Are you tasting yourself?”
His eyes are shut now but he manages to frown, “Silence from you, woman.”
Your smile widens, “Does it taste good?”
“Keep-, hah… Keep talking and I’ll make you lick this entire mess clean.”
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your plug meets you at a college party, but not in the way that you were expecting.
fratboy!gojo x reader x plug!choso
when your friend made you come to a frat party, this is not how you anticipated it to play out.
shoko had texted you earlier before classes ended, that a party was happening tonight — at the biggest frat house on campus.
you agreed, unbeknownst to the events that would eventually ensue throughout the night ahead.
later that night…
somehow — some way, you had ended up on top of satoru gojo; the campuses biggest frat boy.
he was the average douche bag, snobby rich kid that took most things in his life for granted.
his hand was wrapped around your waist, the other, a red solo cup that he occasionally sipped from.
you were definitely intoxicated; having smoked a blunt that was being passed around and gojo had gotten you a coke with vodka.
shoko had ran off with some guy probably 30 minutes ago and you haven’t seen her since.
it was worrying you, so you tried getting up — satoru didn’t let that slide easily though.
“where you goin’ pretty thing?” he said, grabbing your waist and planting you back down on him. “m-my friend has been gone for a while, i- i need to find her.” you practically slurred out.
his hand slid up your thigh, ”cmon’ don’t be a buzzkill.”
your phone started buzzing, you expected it to be shoko, but it was choso? this made you sober up real quick.
you pushed gojo off making him scoff, “dumb bitch.” this resulted in you flipping him off as you walked away to a dense hallway as you answered choso’s call.
“what’s up cho?” your nickname always did numbers on him. “are you at that stupid party?”
“why? do you miss me already?” you managed to giggle out.
he smiled through the phone, you could always tell. “i was just checking to see how you were doing.”
“im just fine, thanks for asking.” you sighed out, leaning against the rough wall. “yeah you sure sound fine. you sound like you are tipsy, you sure you don’t need me to come get you? i don’t want you getting hurt or anything-“
“i said i’m fine cho. i don’t need you to come save me or something. goodbye.” you rushed out, hanging up the phone abruptly.
the truth was, you weren’t fine. part of it was how your life was going, the other part was him.
everything had been stressing you out recently, him included. you met choso in highschool and have always been strictly just friends.
well technically, he had been your plug as well; you would get weed from him sometimes. although you had always been just friends, the last couple weeks — that had changed.
two weeks ago, you called choso late at night and asked for the usual order. he came over and brought it, but one thing led to another, and well — you guys had sex. it wasn’t anything serious, just letting off steam.
but a week ago, it happened again; then three days ago, you guys did it again. and now, you had been avoiding him at all costs.
you really do like him, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to commit to a real relationship. at least, that’s what you had thought.
what snapped you back to reality was satoru walking up to you.
“im sorry for being a douche earlier.” he said scratching his neck looking down for a second, before looking back up at you.
“i think you are really hot, it’s just when you tried leaving i thought-“
from all the pent up feelings you had bottled up, you didn’t really care that he was being an asshole.
he was pretty handsome and he called you hot, so why not. it took your mind off of choso anyways.
your lips connected with his in seconds, making him stop blabbering nonsense that you didn’t care about.
his hand snaked around your waist, hoisting you up so he was holding you by your ass. your legs gripped around his core, as he dragged you back out into the main room. walking past everyone, heading into an empty bathroom.
he sat you down on the counter, planting a soft kiss to your lips. pulling back, he closed and locked the door.
turning around, his eyes were back onto you, grabbing him by the collar, you pulled him in.
satoru’s hand made it’s way in-between your thighs, next thing you know it was in your shorts.
you moaned against his mouth, your tongue fighting against his as he rubbed your sensitive nub. he pulled back slightly chuckling. “already so wet for me?”
your legs spread open wider confirming his question. as you whined out in response, he moved against your pussy faster.
out of nowhere, someone started banging on the bathroom door. you gripped his bicep making him pause his movements.
“open up! i know you are in there.” shit. it was choso’s voice.
you huffed throwing your head back, gojo almost started talking before you put your hands over his mouth. you mouthed “shut the fuck up.” which made him actually listen for once tonight.
choso started shaking the door knob profusely. there was a pause for a second, silence sliced the air — until choso spoke again. “shoko told me you were in here.” he said now in a calmer voice. “just come out, please. i just want to talk.”
you hesitated for a second, before he spoke again, this time even softer than before. “please baby. i just want to talk to you.”
gojo’s eyebrows slanted, and your eyes went wide for a split second. “just give me a minute.” your words were as bitter as a battery.
choso’s footsteps were apparent as they softly travelled away from outside of the door. “you have a fucking boyfriend? you weren’t going to mention that or?-“
“he is not my boyfriend.” you cut in immediately. “it’s complicated, you wouldn’t understand.”
his hand went up to caress your arm. “so make me understand.” his voice went soft, as his eyes stared right back into yours.
you grinned slightly, ”just stay here and ill be back. okay?”
“anything you say gorgeous.” he said crossing his arms, leaning against the counter.
smiling still, you unlocked the bathroom door and slipped out.
peering into the living room that was filled with everyone, your eyes locked onto choso. he was standing next to shoko and that guy she was talking to. where the hell had she been and why did she snitch?
“look who it is. where’s your frat boy at?” shoko snickered, nudging choso slighting in the elbow. “what’s she talking about?” choso responded almost immediately.
“nothing. what does it matter to you anyway-“ he gripped your hand with intense force.
choso dragged you out back, practically flinging you. “did you fuck some frat guy?”
you scoffed, “so what if i did? or if i didn’t. it doesn’t matter to you. we aren’t dating choso. we were just fucking. its just sex, nothing else. what do you think, that i’m your girlfriend or something?”
he went silence and huffed his chest out in anger. the way he went silent gave you your answer. “seriously?”
“do you think i’m just some joke? that just because i sell drugs, i don’t actually like you? or that i could genuinely have feelings for you?” his tone betrayed him, his voice going hoarse from the anger.
just past choso, you saw gojo’s silhouette approaching from the porches door.
“listen, i’m just an outside bystander but i think you should go easy on her man-“
“is this the dumb frat idiot you fucked?” choso cut him off almost immediately.
“i did not fuck him you asshole!” you yelled, your hands balling into fists as you almost did something you would regret, gojo grabbed you by the waist holding you back.
he settled you back down on the ground softly. “alright everyone just chill out, i think this was just a big misunderstanding-“
“oh my god you fucked him i knew it.” choso said with a crooked smile, as he shook his head back and forth.
satoru walked up to him. “we never fucked, i barely touched her. but you are acting like you own her or something dude lay off of her-“
the sound of a hard slap cut satoru’s voice off. your mouth went wide as you watched them in front of you.
gojo softly rubbed his cheek, facing back to choso. “seriously asshole?”
“can both of you just stop it?” you sternly yelled, grabbing their attention.
they both immediately moved their gazes towards you. your eyes began welling with tears, the whole situation making you so overwhelmed.
choso moved to you in seconds. “don’t cry baby.” he took his hands up to your face, wiping them away.
gojo slowly walked over, standing directly behind you, his hands moving to your tummy.
“listen, how about instead of fighting we can do something else?”
you looked between them both smiling as another tear fell, lips connecting to choso in an instance. you grabbed gojo by the crotch, making him grunt out.
next thing you knew, you were on a bed. choso was in between your legs; gojo’s cock was in your mouth.
choso licked and bit at your throbbing pussy like a lollipop. satoru’s hard dick was going in and out of your mouth hitting the sweet spot in your throat.
the sensation you were feeling was irreplaceable; no one has ever made you feel like this.
you gripped choso by the hair, making him dive deeper and harder into your cunt. satoru was moaning uncontrollably as your took him whole, slurping every last drop of his cum.
just as you drank all of gojo, your own high was soon to overcome you. “im gonn’ cum cho, holy shit!”
sprouting your obscenities only made him go faster. you threw your head back, satoru stroked your hair comfortingly as you rode out the ecstasy feeling.
you were shaking from the orgasm, choso pulled back still holding your thighs apart. springing up from the bed, you jumped into choso’s arms.
kissing up and down his neck, licking his ears down to his collarbone. you were devouring him, small sounds escaping his mouth as he held you by your waist.
gojo sat back on the bed pouting like the whimp he was. but then, he got up and came down to the floor with you both.
he sat facing you both, when suddenly he grabbed choso by the neck and kissed him. hard yet eagerly, he moved sloppily against him.
“you fucking dick.” you softly chuckled, running your fingers through his hair. choso put his hand onto satoru’s neck, deepening the kiss before pulling back.
Assorted HCs about the ever underrated Jean Pierre Polnareff...
Some are just about him in general, some are sfw x reader and some are nsfw x reader.
Absolutely no minors PLEASE ..
(x fem reader, sorry I, unfortunately, did just write this one for myself 😩)
I'll do anything to not end a sentence and I am sorry about that. 🫥
There's probably grammar and spelling mistakes in here it's 1 am and I am so stoned.
General
🗡️ He always includes his hair when he tells people how tall he is.
🗡️ IBS king, but regularly indulges in something that's gonna make his stomach churn all night.
🗡️ Multilingual - which we kind of can already imply, but his sociable nature makes it come naturally.
🗡️ He gets super blushy when he's drunk.
🗡️ Doodles on stuff when he gets bored or frustrated with conversation, his childhood dream of being a manga artist doesn't just go away, he retains his skill by drawing silly pictures of the crew, Silver Chariot or himself beating up particularly annoying stand users.
🗡️ Ok I know we already saw it in Death 13, but yes, he always sleeps on his side and with the blanket pulled all the way up to chin, snug as a bug in a rug.
🗡️Even when he feels like shit, he'll do his best to make the hotel bed look at least kinda nice.
🗡️ Caffiene addiction for sure, gets a nasty headache if he can't find a cup of coffee or at the very least, tea.
🗡️ Not scared of bugs, generally leaves them be, he imagines their little bug life and bug routines, easily distracted by big anthills.
🗡️ He has no official birthday so I assign him…… December……. 16th. (Congrats if that's your birthday I just made it up on the spot, I don't believe in horoscopes or anything, this was completely by chance)
🗡️ Incredibly sentimental, keeps little souvenirs, tickets, receipts, anything given to him by someone he cares about, really. It's important to him to always have a piece of everyone he loves.
🗡️ He loves music, radio always on in the car, you know he sings along and messes up all the words, drumming on the steering wheel and freaking everyone out.
🗡️ Along with liking music, he loves to dance, it's never a bad time to bust a little move, he's insistent that there's no such thing as somebody who "can't dance".
💞Sfw relationship hcs 💞(x reader)
⚔️ Really likes when he's approached first, he could flirt with a million girls and not make anything of it. But it's very notable when someone is interested in him before he can sweet talk.
⚔️ Needs to be asked to do chores a few times but he will always do the hard stuff, carrying things, reaching anything too high, gross stuff he doesn't think someone as sweet as you needs to do.
⚔️ He gets emotional watching you sleep, especially if he wakes up before you, sometimes he can't believe you're there, right across from him, for real, in the flesh, warm and peaceful. He'd wished for you for so long..
⚔️ Playful! Soooo playful, light ribbing and teasing, play wrestling, dirty jokes, inside jokes, kicking eachother under the table, and other things that everyone prefers to the….
⚔️ hopeless romantic finally revelling in being romantic, he's so cheesy, it's incredibly charming. Hand kisses, flowers (bought on Joseph's credit card), surprise dates, sweet pet names, he's good once he catches of a groove of what you like. It's not all just to win you over - he does enjoy showering you in love.
⚔️ The Cuddling MVP - he's so enveloping, his grip is borderline possessive, those big, strong arms can hold you tight even through his sleep. He loves to be big spoon, keeping you protected. But, he'd be lying if he said he didn't like being the small spoon and getting lil kissies on his shoulders and back of his neck
⚔️ The fastest way to his heart really is his stomach, he loves being cooked for but he especially loves being baked for.
⚔️ Omfg he loves loves loves to love on you front of people, he knows everyone is staring, and loooves it. 'Yeah! Look at how hot we are, and we're all over eachother and you can have any of what we got! Ha!!'
⚔️ Always. Touching. Hand on knee, playing with your fingers, leg wrapped around yours, playing footsie, arm around you, your legs in lap, even just sitting thigh to thigh, he can't let go.
⚔️ God everyone thinks you're soooo annoyyyiinngg. He's already a yapper, and now there's two of you just gabbing and gabbing away and never paying any attention!! You always promise to do better but come 15 minutes later you're rubbing noses in the back seat again.
⚔️ Takes all of your trauma so seriously, whatever's happened to you will never happen again as long as he can do something about it. Really holds his position as your knight close to his heart and takes such a strong responsibility over your well-being.
⚔️ Holy fuck, talk about a good kisser. He's got a kiss locked and loaded for any situation, sweet silly kisses where he pinches your cheeks to squish your lips; long, meaningful kisses where you swear you can hear him say he loves you while he holds your face gently in his hand; steamy make out sessions, never too much tongue, always an intimate affair.
⚔️ He truly does feel that "red string of fate" he wanted so bad. And the closer he gets to you, the more tangled up in eachother you become, until you become fully stitched at the side.
🌹Nsfw relationship hcs🌹 (x reader)
🤍 Alright let's get to it, this is an ass man, this is an ass and legs man, he especially loves a thicker set of thighs and a nice plump ass to push into and knead on.
🤍 He's pretty easy to bed, your first time is probably either very early in the relationship or the very thing that sparks the relationship in the first place, either way, he's a whore 🩷
🤍 So dramatic and drawn out, lit candles, a bath run for when you're done (given the bathroom situation is up to standards, of course), rose petals, and the kind of foreplay that gets you so hot it starts to border painful. He's a fantastic tease, he likes watching you want him for as long as he can, but his impulsive side always gives in.
🤍 *COUGH* HUNG *COUGH COUGH COUGH* 🤩😍🫡🥳
🤍 Ohhhhh please ask him to do it in the car. He would fuckin love to hit a quickie while everyone is off doing something else. He'll sit and be a smug bastard thinking about it while he drives.
🤍 Shyer about you seeing him with his hair down than he is of you seeing him naked. You had to beg and plead to shower with him, or to at least to not lock you out of the bathroom until he's done his hair.
🤍 Totally loves getting his dick sucked, being serviced a little bit really stokes his ego, which in turns to a certain bravado to return the favor.
🤍 I know a munch when I see one. … Also eye contact.
🤍 Undresses you, don't worry about lifting a finger, it's truly his pleasure. He might keep a pair of particularly cute panties, though.
🤍 Unfortunately he's the exact type of man to be jealous of your toys. He needs to do better than some plastic…..
🤍 Chivalrous, you always cum first, he's no chump, he's not just thinking about himself… but it does give him a boost to watch you unravel.
🤍 Bricked up at any hour of the day, wakes up in the middle of the night for it. He gets needier and clingier the more he's craving your skin.
🤍 Honestly, not all that kinky, but that's not to say he's not a fantastic fuck. He doesn't like to be particularly rough, not into binding or pain or any of those things. He's not the kind of guy to use you as some sort of sex toy, he doesn't want to fuck you stupid by overloading you with pain… he does want to fuck you stupid with pure, blissful ecstasy; the kind that makes you feel like you're floating, like you're glowing.
🤍His dirty talk is absolutely downright naaaayyyaaasty and it rules… he' s fairly vocal in general, unless ☝️ the room shares a wall with a room the others are sleeping in…they'll give him shit about it all day..
🤍 And if you're being too loud, he'll shush you sweetly and press a thumb to your lips
🤍 No favorite position, he's just happy to be here,,,,,but he does kinda hope you'll let him hit from behind at least for a little bit..
Woah who said all that stuff 👆 that's craaazyy
OKAY I have to stop now or I never will.. I hope the 5 Polnareff fans enjoyed this one, rise up Polnareff Nation .
You entered the heavily crowded fraternity house. Swaying bodies grinding up against each other as the humid atmosphere made your skin start to prick with a thin layer of sweat. Silently thanking yourself for wearing your favorite mini skirt tonight.
You did find it odd that your normally timid and introverted boyfriend Gojo invited you to a frat party on a Saturday night. Usually those days were reserved for quiet date nights or his annual dnd meet ups.
You pushed past the bodies trying to get deeper into the house and hopefully find the stairs. The text Gojo sent you earlier telling you to head to the basement.
Seeing the bright light of sanctuary up ahead once you finally noticed the "no entry" sign plastered on the basement door. But as you went to grab the door knob, a tall broad chest covered in a tight white tee blocked your vision.
"That place is off limits sweetheart." Came the deep voice above you, your neck craning up to get a look at the human blockade. "Sorry but my boyfriend said I can go down there-" Your words cut off once you finally got a good look at the person in front of you.
"Gojo?" You said surprised, a hint of confusion in your tone as you looked at your boyfriend.
The man who looked exactly like him widened his eyes at your words. A cocky smirk overtaking his lips as he stared down at you, his eyes roaming your figure making you shiver, usually making you blush but this stare felt wrong.
"Hey babe! I didn't realize it was you." He smirked, leaning against the door as he spoke.
"Yeah me neither..." You trailed off taking in his attire. His usual scruffy hair that you loved running your fingers through was now cut short with low tapered sides, the top of his hair covered by a backwards cap. A lip piercing that was usually on his right now moved to his left, while his broader shoulders stretched his plain white tee.
Your eyes narrowing as you took him in. "What's with the new look?" You asked, trying to hide the suspicion in your voice.
The white haired man titling his head to the side, licking his lip. "You don't like?" He leaned down, his face closer but still a respectable distance away.
"Thought a change was needed." He glanced off to the side, the first recognizable trait that your boyfriend usually had. "What's with all the questions!" He stood straighter, grabbing your hand. "Why don't we get you a drink, loosen up those tense shoulders and join the party." He smirked freely, glancing back at you.
You slipped your hand out of his, "You know I don't drink babe." You narrowed your eyes.
"Oh yeah!" The frat boy in front of you faked remembrance. "Let's grab you a juice then. You know how fucked my memory gets when I drink." He tried to lead you into the frats kitchen, nodding every other step as people greeted him.
You silently followed, your mind going through all the possibilities of why and how your sweet nerdy boyfriend is now a popular frat dude.
Ick
"So Gojo, why'd you want to come to a party tonight." You questioned, watching as he handed you a sunny d from the back of the fridge.
The imposter gave you a suave smirk, something that'd made any girl swoon. Except you, holding in the physical recoil as you backed up a step. "Who doesn't love a good party, good music, strong drinks, and hosted by the number one frat here." He bragged, taking a sip from his cup.
Your tongue gave a sharp click, his final words putting the last nail in the coffin. "And what should we do now that we're here at this rager." You asked, hiding your suspicions behind the rim of your drink.
His whole demeanor somehow got cockier, the playboy attitude taking the front. "Im glad you asked baby, why don't we take this party upstairs." He hinted, his eyes holding something you couldn't figure out. His relax facade at the forefront but behind it was a sharp gaze that felt like your answer would set the rest of the party in stone.
You took a big step back, straightening up your face no longer hiding the look of disgust. "Fat chance." You turned, ready to make a break for the door.
"Where you going?!" The fake called after you. "Come back you know I was just joking!" Your body pushed past as you looked for the exit.
"Take a hike! And tell my boyfriend Gojo to call me when he gets here, because your fake gym bro ass obviously isn't him!" You shouted behind you, almost running straight into someone.
"There you are! I've been waiting for you down at the basement." The sweet delicate voice that you knew and loved came from above. Your eyes recognizing your sweet nerdy boyfriend clad in his Digimon tee and his scruffy hair you missed.
"Gojo!" You gasped, throwing your arms around him. HIs arms quickly wrapping around you in surprise. "Are you okay? What took you so long-" His voice trailed off as his eyes caught the sight of his twin brother standing a couple feet behind you.
"Toru?" Gojo's voice rang out in recognition. "I thought you were busy fixing the kegs." Your fake boyfriend now known as Toru, shook his head with a smile.
"Finished with that earlier little bro, I was just keeping your girlfriend company." He stated.
"Lies!" You objected, hands gripping your boyfriend's shirt. "That fake pretended to be you and hinted at taking me upstairs!" You shouted, throwing an accusatory finger in Toru's direction.
The older brother holding his hands up in mock surrender a low chuckle leaving his lips, not even defending himself from the truth.
Your boyfriend let out a deep sigh, giving his brother a tired look. "Really. I thought you were gonna stop doing this."
His brother gave him a sheepish look, "You know im just looking out for you bro." He reassured, "This ones the real deal, was cautious of me from the start." Toru smirked, a friendly less playboy tone ringing out as he spoke to his brother.
Gojo rolled his eyes, before tugging you along towards the basement. Your body making it through the door this time. "So that was the annoying Toru you've told me about." You broke the silence first, eyes taking in the calm and cozy room. It looked more like a movie and gaming lounge than a cheap basement.
"Yes, sadly you've just met my brother Toru. President of this frat and host of this party." Gojo sighed, flopping onto the couch and taking you down with him.
"You didn't think to at least mention that your annoying brother was your twin?" You smiled teasing him. Your boyfriends scratched his neck as he gave you a sheepish look. "It just never came up?"
18+, nsfw. hakari is genuinely so sexy i'm gonna die
KINJI HAKARI, who has two black decked out cars: a '67 chevy impala that he always drives on the way to his club, and a sweet jeep grand trackhawk with a sunroof for you to peek out of. and my god are they loud. everyone knows hakari's at the club when 'i wonder' by nardo wick is blasting out his vehicle's speakers, bass boosted to the max just to overdo it. custom plates writing "B1GEG0" and "UR2SLOW", convertibles bouncing up and down as you're in the passenger seat, his hand right on your thigh.
KINJI HAKARI who keeps you as his good luck charm when he gambles. people wear red; hell, some carry rabbit's feet, but hakari? he just needs his woman of a year and 5 months, sat on his lap with his hand on your ass as he effortlessly wins his way through another session.
KINJI HAKARI who gives you a wide grin, and your thighs clench because you know once you get home he's fucking you senseless; and that's because nothing skyrockets hakari's libido like manipulating everyone's fever in this club to get money in his bag. hell, sometimes you don't even make it to your house; if he's that hard, he'll park in an empty parking lot and reward you there.
"hah—", hakari stutters, his weight almost looming over you as he pounds you in the backseat. thank god your windows are tinted. "you did it again pretty girl, won another round. gonna spoil you rotten after i'm done fuckin' this—christtt, mama, g'na cum if you do that." he lets out a groan, slit eyebrows furrowing when he feels your walls clench around him the moment he mentions spending more of his money on you like he doesn't enough already. greedy.
his hips snap against you just a bit harder, earning a squeal from you.
"ah! kinjii!"
"what do we say?"
"t-thank you."
"for?"
"for—fuckfuckfuck, thank you for spoiling me."
"y'r welcome, baby."
KINJI HAKARI whose dick is so thick you two always have to do foreplay longer than the average person because if not, it's not gonna fit. he'd never complain about it, he knows he's big, and what man complains about getting to put his mouth where it belongs? your sweet cunt, that is, lapping at your juices for his own pleasures more than your own. he'll throw a finger or two, eager to have you cum all over his mouth so he can kiss you and have you taste yourself after.
KINJI HAKARI, the man with the dick that slightly burns upon entrance anyway, no matter how much prep you do. he has to take it in slow, hands intertwined with yours, peppering you with "i know, i know", "you got it ma", and "that's it" as you hiss, a mix of a hot stretch and aching pleasure being felt as each inch penetrated just as deep as the one before.
KINJI HAKARI who LOVES making you squirt. every time, and anywhere you fuck. he just wants his girl to get the best out of every moment you choose to make love to him. that, and he just loves watching that lip of yours tremble, legs twitch and your attempts to hide your face as you gush all over his fingers. you'll protest it's "too messy", but your man couldn't give less of a fuck, even ignoring how his painfully hard his dick is almost bursting outta his jeans. "give it to me, c'mon i know ya can," curling his fingers deeper into you on his couch till he reaches that spongy spot that makes your tits rise up and down faster and that face that's just a work of art.
and once you do, releasing such a sweet cry, he'll sport a victorious smile, your juices all over his large calloused hand and you can just hear the slot machine win sound in his head as he mutters a "jackpot" that makes you glare at him indefinitely.
KINJI HAKARI who is the perfect mix of sweet and mean in bed. the problem is, he just can't go slow. it's impossible for him, he's just so into it that he can't help but rut into you in such a gorgeous way that you squirm against him, trying to run away. you'd whine "kin, 's too much, you're being meannn", almost out of his grasps as his tip is just about to leave your hole, and all of a sudden there's a loud thump connecting the headboard to the wall, as hakari's hips knock into you with force, and you make the loudest moan he's probably ever heard from you. all it does is make him laugh: "baby, where you goin'? run away 'n i'll just give you more, shit, y'know that." he lifts your ankle and places a kiss to it before placing it on his shoulder to give him better access. "just take it, m'kay?"
KINJI HAKARI that lives for the danger that comes with public sex, especially in serious situations. he loves to play these games with you, placing a vibrator in you or fingering you under a table just to see how well you can cough to mask your moans and bounce your leg to shield its trembling as you’re bordering an orgasm. he'll practically jump for joy if you offer him a hand/blowjob while he's on the road.
KINJI HAKARI who likes to have music while he fucks you, however, his playlist mainly consists of artists like asap rocky, kendrick and carti, and god forbid you'd ever let him fuck you to that. he doesn't get why, since apparently m.A.A.d city is "hella fuckable" in his eyes (madman btw).
"oh my god we're not fucking to carti, hakari."
"what?? is it the voice? i can put on one with his real voice—"
"drying up as we speak."
"okay but you can't say no to a$ap."
"would rather go with his girl."
"..fine "
In which Toji uses his superhuman strength to get his hands on you
“I won’t ask again, doll. Unlock the door and let me in.”
“No!”
He pounds on the bathroom door. The whole house shakes, so does your skeleton. “Not in the mood for games, woman. You got my dick hard; you’re going to take responsibility, like a big girl.”
What were you thinking spamming him nudes whilst he’s at work? No, the better question is, what was he thinking taking you seriously enough to speed home? Can’t a girl have fun without consequences?
“I was gonna,” you start, practically shaking in the tub as you hold a shampoo bottle, a foolish delusion of protection, “but then you came home early! You weren’t supposed to come home so soon. Ugh, you ruined everything. You know I need at least an hour prep to be in my most seductive mood, Toji!”
You can almost visualise the disbelieving scoff that’d reveal his sharp teeth and make that delectable scar stretch when he bangs on the door again. He’s probably leaning against it, imagining all the ways he could have you bent and pumped full of cum. The thought makes your thighs squeeze tightly even as a nervous, almost manic laugh escapes you.
The rattling of the walls stops. Silence rings out.
“...You laughing at me?”
Oh fuck.
You’re done for. That much is clear when he punches a hole in the door barely a second later with a thunderous bang. Huddling on all fours, you brace yourself with a scream as the wood splinters onto the floor. Your poor pussy’s going to feel just like that door when he’s done with you, you’re sure.
You peek up. Toji’s hands grip the wood, ripping a bigger hole in the weak thing. His glinting eyes meet yours. He growls, “Oh, good. You’re already in the right position.”
Screaming bloody murder, you throw the bottle at him, and another and another. They all bounce off his chest as though they weigh nothing. “Fuck off! I take it back. I take it all back!”
“Too fucking late. Shouldn’t play games you’re not ready to lose,” he lectures. In no time at all, he steps through and casts a shadow over your body. The veins on his beefy arms pop, his thighs flex, and his lips curl up — yet, all you’re looking at is the monstrous cock in his pants, painfully hard and somehow bigger than you remember, weighing him down.
“I hate you, you big brute!” you shriek, when he throws you over his shoulder.
He snorts. “Yeah, sure. Pretend you’re not creaming your fucking panties.”
Busted.
“I’m sorry?” you try, a last ditch effort to get your way. “I won’t do it again?”
He throws you on the bed and watches you bounce, licking his lips. “Try again when I’m feeling nice. Maybe I’ll buy your bullshit apologies then.”
Sniffling, you grumble, “And when’s that going to be?”
“Dunno.” Toji lifts one shoulder lazily as his hands grip your knees and shoves your legs apart. “Let’s get to orgasm number eight and go from there.”
I imagined that scene from The Shining lol but much less scary, and more ngh!
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Summary: A WISE operative is assigned to infiltrate Yuri Briar under the guise of a harmless relationship.
Warnings: Obsessive and controlling behavior (This is Yuri, what else is new), implied imprisonment, handcuffs, mission gone wrong.
Author’s Notes: I was astonished to find out how little yandere fic there is about him.
Yuri Briar.
The name had already circulated through WISE channels. Yuri wasn't just a cog in the Ostanian bureaucracy; he was a wolf in civil servant's clothing, a high-ranking SSS officer masking his teeth behind a desk at the Foreign Ministry.
That was where your assignment began; you didn't like it.
Not the mission—you were no stranger to grim work; you'd done far colder things for far less reason. But this was different. You were being asked to step willingly into the orbit of a man described, with zero hyperbole, as a loose cannon.
"Yuri Briar is... emotionally driven," Loid Forger—known to the agency as Twilight—had noted during the briefing. "Highly loyal and intensely reactive when it comes to personal attachments."
A quieter addition, almost as an afterthought:
"He's sharp."
In the photographs, a man with crimson red eyes caught mid-expression in most of them. There was something restless in the way he held himself, like tension coiled just beneath the surface, waiting for a reason.
A man so dedicated to his cover that his own sister never suspected the SSS badge in his pocket. That was your target. To catch him, you couldn't just be a face in the crowd or a passing neighbor; those were threads he could easily snip. You had to become something permanent that he couldn't simply cut ties with when the wind changed.
"Your task is to insert yourself into his life as a romantic interest," Twilight had instructed, his voice devoid of sentiment. "If he keeps sniffing around me, every one of our active operations is at risk."
"And the secondary objective?"
"Information," he said simply. "His clearance within the SSS is a goldmine. Siphon whatever data you can, but do it quietly."
Of course.
It was never about a direct hit.
Your real past—the one where you grew up in the cold, grey shadows of the Berlint underworld—was now buried under layers of a sunny, slightly clumsy newcomer to his neighborhood and the unassuming archives job.
_
You found him exactly where the file said you would.
It was almost disappointing.
The scene around him was perfectly, boringly normal—the evening sun casting long shadows over a street of unhurried people and idle chatter.
His posture was plain, his clothing forgettable, just like any other face in the Berlint rush hour. Looking at Yuri Briar then, it was terrifyingly easy to believe the lie, that he was nothing more than the unremarkable bureaucrat he pretended to be.
You watched him for a moment, cataloguing the details you'd been told to expect and the ones you hadn't. Then, you approached anyway; hesitation had never once saved anyone in your line of work.
"Excuse me," you said.
His reaction was instantaneous—a pivot that was far too alert for a simple clerk:
"Yes?" he replied.
You forced a small, practiced smile to your lips. "I'm sorry, but you look so familiar. Have we met?"
It was a clumsy hook, one you'd usually be embarrassed to use, but it served its purpose as a non-threatening entry point.
"I doubt it." Yuri didn't bite it, already shifting his attention away.
"I'm sorry, that was incredibly awkward," you said, offering a look that was both sheepish and sincere.
"...Do you do this often?" he asked.
"...Not usually," you said, which was technically true in a way that didn't matter.
He seemed to accept that, if only because it wasn't worth pressing.
"I'm in a hurry," he stated flatly. "If you have business, be direct."
And then, with a slight nod that was more dismissal than courtesy. He moved to brush past you, but you weren't ready to let the thread snap yet.
"Wait—"
"Would you like to go out with me?"
The words slipped out, jarring against the mood. Yuri halted mid-stride. When he turned around, the professional facade had faded, giving way to a sharp gaze filled with suspicion.
"...Absolutely not," he said.
You stared at him, feeling a jolt of pure, unadulterated panic that you were failing. Again. Twilight would have shared a witty story about Ostanian politics, while you're going to get a restraining order.
"Okay, that's fair." You nodded slowly, shifting your weight, then immediately shifted it back, realizing too late that you were fidgeting like a guilty toddler. No wonder they stuck me at this 'low-risk' desk, you thought bitterly. It's obvious WISE sent you on this mission because they were short on staff.
So you decided to double down on the disaster:
"I could just start over, pretend none of that happened."
There was a tiny crease between his eyebrows now. He wasn't even angry yet; he just looked deeply concerned for your mental well-being.
"...It already happened." Yuri blinked; it was a very judgmental blink.
"Yes," you said, with a small, strained smile. "I'm aware. I just meant—we could both agree to ignore it."
"No."
The 'no' hit like a brick, your professional dignity fraying at the edges, seconds away from a total meltdown. But retreat wasn't an option in the WISE handbook—especially not when Yuri was already pivoting to leave.
If he walked now, this disaster of an opening would be all you'd ever have.
"...I think you're interesting," you said.
Yuri stopped dead in his tracks. He didn't respond yet, waiting—perhaps—for whatever strange behavior would come next
"Interesting?" he repeated, his tone flat. "Based on what, exactly?"
"Based on the way you handled that stray cat by the entrance this morning," you said. Since you couldn't pass as a master spy, you leaned hard into the role of a very nosy, very bored neighbor.
"You've been watching me?" His eyes narrowed just slightly.
"I live in 4B," you said. "I moved in last week. My kitchen window overlooks the main entrance, and since the radiator in my unit makes a sound like a dying bird, I spend a lot of time standing by that window and saw you... well, very efficiently negotiating with a tabby for hallway access. It was the most disciplined interaction I've seen all week."
"...That's a strange thing to notice."
"I notice strange things."
Another pause.
He didn't smile, but the predatory edge in his eyes flickered, replaced by a glint of genuine, bewildered intrigue. He'd spent his career dealing with two types of people: terrified suspects and scripted diplomats. You were neither. It was so absurd it was disarming.
"Disciplined," he echoed, a small, huffing sound escaping him that was close to a laugh. "4B, you said? The radiator in 4B has been broken for years; the landlord is a cheapskate. You have to hit the pipe twice with a heavy object to settle the valve."
"Oh, thank you, I'll try that method later," you blinked, letting a look of genuine surprise wash over your face. "I'll go back to my whistling radiator now. Sorry for being the 'weird neighbor' on day seven."
You started to turn away, but you felt the air change. He hadn't moved to leave yet.
"Wait," Yuri said. It was a command, not a request. "If you're going back to that building anyway... it's on my way."
"Oh... right. Yeah, sure," you stammered, your voice higher than usual. "I'd like that. I mean, it would be weird if we both walked in the same direction exactly ten paces apart like two strangers stalking each other, wouldn't it?"
You immediately wanted to swallow your tongue. Stalking? Why on earth did you use the word "stalking" in front of a counter-intelligence officer?!
You fell into step beside him, your heart was drumming against your ribs so hard you were certain Yuri, with his SSS hound-dog ears, could hear it echoing off the surrounding buildings. And you knew deep in your gut that this ten-minute walk was going to be the longest ten minutes of your entire (unimpressive and currently crashing) career at WISE.
"You never answered my question," he said.
You glanced at him. "Which one?"
"Do you do this often?"
"...No," you said again. "Just today."
That, too, was true.
_
Your relationship was nothing more than a series of carefully timed "accidental" run-ins.
You made sure to cross paths with him in the dim hallway or at the front entrance at least once a day. At first, it was just a quick, polite nod as you pretended to be distracted by a heavy bag of groceries or a stack of mail. Slowly, those nods turned into small, clumsy acknowledgments. You'd drop your keys right as he walked by, or offer a shy, tired smile after a long shift at the archives. So he began to return the gestures—a stiff, professional tip of the head or a brief "Good evening."
Then the turning point came when you snapped the valve on your radiator on purpose. Yuri spent the next hour on your floor, sleeves rolled to his elbows, attacking the plumbing. When he finally finished, you handed him a towel and told him he was "the most reliable man in the building," he flushed a deep, embarrassed red.
It's the first time the SSS mask slips.
After the radiator incident, you started small, placing a Tupperware container of cookies left at his door. Then, "running into him" at the local market and asking for his professional opinion on which brand of canned soup.
It wasn't as if he lacked options. Objectively, Yuri Briar was the epitome of Ostanian beauty—sharp, aristocratic features paired with a youthful glow that suggested he still believed in the inherent goodness of the State. He was the kind of man mothers pointed out in the street. At the Ministry, younger female clerks often swooned when he walked by, and you’d seen more than one woman on the street coyly drop a handkerchief in his path.
But there was a reason Yuri Briar was still single.
The girls would stay for the face, but they fled for the personality. By the first day, she would be charmed by his looks. By the second, she’d realize that behind those handsome features sat a man whose only true hobby was a borderline-religious devotion to his sister. By the third, he would inevitably say something so socially tone-deaf or subtly menacing that she’d leave a "it’s not you, it’s me" note and change her phone number.
And if you were being honest, if WISE hadn't been paying your rent and the peace of the East wasn't hanging in the balance, you would have been the first one out the door.
But where every other woman saw a collection of red flags, you had to see an opportunity. So you forced yourself to listen to his hour-long rants about Yor’s cooking as if it were the most fascinating topic in the world, and noted when he mentioned his brother-in-law, Loid, his jaw clenched so hard you feared for his teeth. By absorbing the personality traits that drove everyone else away, you became the only one "cool" enough to handle the real him.
And Yuri, starved for a connection that didn't require him to hide his intensity, fell for the lie hook, line, and sinker.
But he never tell you about his actual job, the most he would say was that his work at the Ministry was "exhausting but noble." He'd lean back on your sofa and vent about how annoying the office paperwork was while you rubbed his shoulders. You feel the tension in his muscles—tension from a man who spent his afternoon in a soundproof room at SSS HQ—but you just hum and tell him how he is working so hard for his country.
The best information never came when Yuri was careful.
Instead of asking about troop movements, you asked about his stressful job. He'd complain about his coworkers being sent on a "long trip to the countryside," and by that night, you'd be sending the location of a secret military exercise back to WISE.
Other times, you'd purposefully spill water near his open briefcase. While you both rushed to clean up the mess, your trained eyes would quickly memorize the logos on his papers or the coded names on his desk calendar, documenting every move he made.
Once a week, you meet Loid in the back of a crowded grocery store or a dim park. You hand him scraps of paper while pretending to check the price of eggs.
"SSS is shifting focus to the eastern docks," you whisper.
Loid's expression remains neutral, but you can tell the Intel is high-grade.
_
Until it started over a bowl of onion soup.
Yuri was sitting across from you, his jacket draped over the chair, looking every bit the weary but happy civil servant. He was in the middle of a rhapsodic praise of your cooking when you let it slip.
"The neighbor in 3C again," you muttered, stirring your bowl. "He cornered me in the hallway this morning. Apparently, my trash bag leaked a drop on the linoleum, and he spent ten minutes screaming at me, threatened to have me evicted by the end of the week."
You watched Yuri over the rim of your spoon. For a fraction of a second, the light in his eyes turned into a void that made hardened criminals weep in SSS interrogation rooms.
Then, the mask snapped back into place. He beamed at you, his expression softening into a look of pure concern. "Oh, how terrible for you!" he exclaimed, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. "Don't worry yourself. I'm sure the authorities will realize he's just a confused, bitter old man."
The next morning, there was no radio blaring from 3C.
When you left for your "job," you saw two men in nondescript grey overcoats carrying boxes out of the apartment. An official seal had been slapped across the door frame.
"Routine background check," one of the men barked when he saw you lingering. "Inconsistencies in his citizenship filings potentially tie to Westalis. He's been taken in for clarification."
That evening, Yuri arrived with a box of expensive chocolates and a bouquet of lilies. He looked refreshed, almost glowing, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
"I heard about your neighbor," he said immediately, stepping inside before you could fully register his expression. "That must've been very stressful for you."
He sat at your table, watching you with adoring eyes while you served tea. His hands were pristine—nails trimmed, skin scrubbed clean of the ink and sweat of the office. He looked so appealing, so warm, a perfect picture of Ostanian youth.
"But isn't it wonderful? The neighborhood is finally as peaceful as you deserve," he whispered, his voice dripping with a terrifying, earnest sweetness. "You're the most important thing in the world to me, second only to my sister. I won't let anything disrupt your happiness."
You smiled back, your clumsy neighbor mask perfectly in place, while internally you were already drafting the update to Loid: Target is beginning to use SSS assets to 'sanitize' the Reader's social environment. Subject shows signs of extreme possessiveness.
_
Yuri's clinginess had taken on a feverish quality. He didn't just want to spend time with you; he seemed to want to consume your time. During dinner, he was the picture of appealing warmth, pining for your attention like a puppy, begging for praise just like he did with Yor.
But if you stayed late at your job, he was waiting on your doorstep with a look of pure, unbridled distress, convinced you've been kidnapped or, worse, that you've grown bored of him.
"I was worried," he'd say, his voice soft but his eyes searching your face for the slightest tremor of a lie. "The streets aren't safe these days. I almost called in a... a few favors to come looking for you."
He began to insist on walking you everywhere; he'd hold your hand tightly like he never wants to let go. Every time you laughed at a joke from a male coworker or waved to a stranger, you could feel Yuri's sharp gaze that made the hairs on your neck stand up.
Those times like that, you would curse WISE under your breath.
Nothing—nothing in the training manuals—had prepared you for the absolute, unhinged psychological warfare of Yuri Briar's affection, which was enough to give a seasoned spy whiplash. You cursed the handlers who had handed you this file with a casual "he's a bit intense," and you especially cursed Twilight for that understated "emotionally driven" warning.
The nightmare finally arrived on a Friday evening.
"I told her!" Yuri exclaimed, seizing your shoulders. His grip pinned you in place like a steel shackle. "Sister is overjoyed. She wants to host us for dinner at the Forger apartment this weekend."
Your heart felt like it stopped entirely. The Forger house. The home of Loid Forger—your superior—and his fake family.
"Yuri, isn't it a bit... soon?" you stammered, forcing the awkward smile. "I'm terrified of disappointing her."
"Disappointing her?" Yuri's voice dropped an octave, suddenly low and hauntingly serious. He trailed a hand up to caress your cheek—a gesture meant to be tender. "You are the greatest thing to happen to me after my sister. I want her to finally stop worrying about me."
He tilted his head, his gaze darkening. "Unless... you have a reason for not wanting to meet my family?"
"Of course not," you rushed to say, feeling the cold sweat prickle your skin. "I'm just... nervous."
Yuri instantly brightened, pulling you into a crushing hug. He buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your hair with a terrifying intensity. "Don't be. I'll be right there. I'll protect you from that smug husband of hers. I just want the three of us—you, me, and sister—to be happy like this forever."
That night, you sent an emergency coded burst to Loid: "Target requesting family introduction. Direct collision at the Forger residence imminent. Subject exhibiting extreme instability and possessive behavior. Requesting contingency plan."
The air in the Forger apartment was so thick with lies it felt like it might explode.
Loid—or rather, Twilight—stepped forward with a perfectly practiced, friendly smile. Yuri's eyes immediately locked onto him with his usual pure hatred.
"A pleasure to finally meet you," Loid said, extending a hand. "Yuri hasn't stopped talking about his new neighbor."
"Likewise, Dr. Forger," you replied calmly. Your hand touched his for just a second—a quick, professional greeting. Here were two WISE agents shaking hands right in the middle of the enemy's domestic fantasy. No one would have guessed that forty-eight hours ago, you had exchanged coded SSS troop movements in a grocery store.
"Oh, I'm so glad you could come!" Yor chirped, hurrying from the kitchen with a tray. She looked genuinely thrilled, her innocence acting as the only thing keeping the room from feeling like an interrogation cell. "Yuri is so sensitive, I was worried he'd never find someone as kind as you."
"S-SISTER! Don't say such things! Although... kind? Yes! She's very kind!" Yuri interjected, his voice rising with that manic edge. He pulled you closer, his knuckles brushing against your side. "I'm very lucky I found you before someone else did. I'd hate to think of you being 'kind' to anyone but me."
You felt Loid's gaze flicker to you—reading the tension in your shoulders, the way you were leaning slightly away from Yuri's overbearing heat. He saw the "clinginess" you had reported, and for a moment, you saw a flash of genuine concern in his eyes before the doting husband mask locked back into place.
Then, there was Anya, his adopted child.
She was sitting at the table, her fork frozen halfway to her mouth. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates, darting between you and Loid.
"Anya? Is something wrong?" Yor asked, tilting her head.
"I... I want more cocoa," Anya squeaked, her voice trembling.
"So," Yuri said, his voice dropping into that appealing but dangerous tone as he looked at Loid. "How exactly is the hospital, Loid? Pretending to be busy while my sister does all the heavy lifting at home?"
"I assure you, Yuri, my work is quite demanding. It's a different kind of service to the state."
"Service? Please!" Yuri scoffed, leaning over the table, his face inches from Loid's. "You're a leech, Loid Forger! A leech on my sister's kindness!"
As Yuri continued his frantic, illogical rant—veering from Loid being a loser to the way he cut his steak—you finally understood why Twilight was so desperate for you to join this mission.
The dinner proceeded like a high-stakes chess match. Every time Yuri fed you a bite of food or whispered how much he loved you, you could feel Loid judging you in silence. But then, in a rare quiet moment while Yor was busy getting dessert in the kitchen, the atmosphere shifted abruptly.
"There's one thing that's quite interesting," Yuri said, his voice low and steady, a tone that made Anya drop her spoon onto the floor. "I noticed that you always pause for a beat before answering personal questions."
Your heart seemed to stop. Opposite you, Loid was raising his wine glass to his lips, but you could clearly see his fingers tightening until his veins stood out. It was an elementary mistake—that tiny delay when your brain has to sift through a pile of fake memories to find the right lie.
"When I asked about your hometown, or your mother's old habits..." Yuri tilted his head, his eyes narrowing inquisitively. "That silence lasted about 0.5 seconds. It was as if you were..."
Loid gently set his glass down, preparing for the worst-case scenario. He shot you a cold, warning look.
"Oh, Yuri, I'm sorry," you said, your voice trembling slightly—a genuine tremor you didn't even have to fake. "It's just... sometimes those memories are painful. I told you I don't like talking about my old family, right? It feels like I'm just hurting myself all over again."
You lowered your head, your shoulders shaking slightly. For a moment, Yuri's inner detective fought with his heart, but his obsession won out.
"I'm sorry," Yuri said, immediately becoming frantic as he grabbed your hand, his cold attitude disappearing instantly. "I shouldn't have pushed you like that. It's just... I want to know everything about you, every tiny detail. I don't want there to be any gaps between us."
Anya, who had been holding her breath the entire time, suddenly blurted out: "I... I need to go to the bathroom!" before bolting away.
Loid finally let out an incredibly discreet sigh of relief. The mission was working; Yuri was blissfully unaware of the carefully hidden truths swirling around. But when you spotted the "Secret Police" badge discreetly tucked within the lining of Yuri's coat, you realized exactly how high the stakes had become.
As the dinner ended, Yuri insisted on walking you the tiny distance back to your own door. Your mind raced with questions, each more daunting than the last.
What might happen if Yuri ever found out the truth?
If he discovered that the one person he allowed into his heart—the person who held his secrets and rubbed his shoulders—was the very thing he spent his life hunting. Would your artificial bond withstand such a revelation, or would it shatter completely?
You looked at him out of the corner of your eye as he hummed a tune, seemingly at peace. You knew the SSS dossiers by heart. You knew that Yuri Briar didn't do moderate emotions. In his world, there was no middle ground between total devotion and total destruction. You’d seen how he treated Loid for the mere suspicion of making Yor unhappy. You were certain that when he found out you were a vermin from the West, his reaction wouldn't be just a typical heartbreak. No, it would be a violent outburst, like a loose cannon, and he wouldn't hesitate to break every bone in your hands—the hands that touched his dear sister’s dinner plate.
The air tonight was thick and static. Somewhere a few streets over, a dog barked twice and went silent.
_
It's 11 PM. You were sitting in a shadowed corner of the kitchen, the only light emanating from the tiny screen of a signal decoder. A signal from WISE headquarters was scrolling: "SSS Squad 4 is on the move... Need target confirmation..."
Right then, a faint click echoes from the lock. Your heart stopped. Only one person has a spare key (which he "borrowed" to make a copy, fearing you might have an emergency).
Click.
"Honey? Are you still awake?" Yuri's voice rang out.
In less than a second, your brain kicked into high gear. You can't turn the device off in time because it's in the middle of an automatic data wipe. You scrambled to grab the diary on the table, slamming it down over the decoder, and slumped your head over it as if you'd drifted off from exhaustion.
"Up late again?" he walked in, placing a hand on your shoulder. His hand lingers there, and you can feel your survival instincts screaming as he glances at the pile of items on the table. "What are you writing?"
He reached out, intending to lift the diary. Your heart beats so hard you think it might rattle the wooden table. Right beneath that notebook, the decoder is still emitting tiny beeps—all it would take is for Yuri to lean his ear a few centimeters closer...
So you let out a soft groan, feigning a slow wake-up, and turned to wrap your arms around his waist, pinning the diary firmly under your arm.
"Yuri... you startled me," you said, your voice thick with sleep (and genuine terror). You buried your head against his stomach, physically blocking his view of the table. "I was just trying to plan the next dinner with Yor. I want everything to be perfect..."
Mentioning Yor is always the best way to paralyze Yuri's analytical mind.
"Goodness, you really are..." Yuri exhaled, his suspicion replaced by a touched smile. He strokes your hair, completely oblivious to the decoder finishing its wipe cycle right beneath your elbow. "You don't need to put so much pressure on yourself. She already loves you."
He pulled you onto his lap on the sofa, wrapping you in a crushing, familiar embrace. You could feel his heart thrumming against your back and the sharp, metallic scent of gunpowder on his coat—a smell he always lied and said was "old Ministry paperwork."
"What did you do today?" Yuri whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "I missed you. All day, I could only think about coming back here, back to you."
You offered a practiced, mindless answer about household chores. The diary is lying slightly askew across the table. You felt a surge of pride; you had played him perfectly. The mission was almost done, and Yuri was completely blinded by his own heart.
"I used to wonder why someone like you appeared in my life at exactly the right moment," he said while burying his face in the crook of your neck, his voice low and rich with emotion. "It felt like a miracle. Or like a perfectly calculated plan."
Your heart missed a beat, then you felt something cold and heavy snap shut around your wrists from behind.
You were already handcuffed.
"Don't be so tense," Yuri murmured with a soft, airy chuckle.
He reached the coffee table nearby, slowly and deliberately pulling out the WISE decoder underneath the diary. He set it aside, glancing at it as if it were a harmless toy, before turning his gaze back to you.
"I have to admit. Of all the things I expected to find when I started digging into your life, Westalis was the most… disappointing. I thought you were just keeping secrets, maybe a past lover or a debt. But a Westalian? One of them?"
He turned your face toward him, forcing you to meet his crimson eyes. You braced yourself for his supposed furious outburst, expecting him to scream at you, to call you a traitor, acting out the "reactive" personality Twilight had warned you about and you were aware of. But Yuri was perfectly composed. He didn't even look angry. To your astonishment, you even sensed a hint of tenderness in his eyes, which felt even more unsettling.
"It actually hurt, for a second." He places his hands on your shoulders, his grip firm enough to keep you seated. "The idea that every word you spoke was scripted by some handler at WISE. That the person I was falling for was just a ghost conjured up by the West to weaken me. I’m disappointed in you for being so cliché—and I'm disappointed in myself for being so blind to the stench of the West on your skin."
"A joke? Yuri, this... this isn't funny," you said, forcing a nervous, high-pitched laugh that sounded thin even to your own ears. You twisted your wrists slightly, letting the metal rattle against your skin. "Is this some kind of roleplay? Because it's a little too realistic."
You tried to keep your expression wide and confused, the picture of a bewildered girlfriend. You even managed a tiny, playful pout, leaning back against his chest.
"This is just an old radio part I found at the market... for the radiator! You know how it screeches." You looked at him with watery eyes, praying that if you just acted innocent enough, his obsession would override his training one last time. "Come on, Yuri. Take them off. It's hurting me, and we still have to finish planning your sister's dessert, remember?"
"The radiator," he repeated softly, and he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "You really are committed to the bit, aren't you? It's almost a shame. I was starting to hope you'd be honest with me, just once, before I have to take you into the office."
You stopped struggling. The rattling of the handcuffs died away, leaving only the sound of the ticking clock on the wall. You let out a long, shaky breath and leaned your forehead against his, closing your eyes.
"Fine," you whispered, feigning a cracking voice. "You caught me. It was a mission. It was all a calculation from the very start."
You felt his hand pause in your hair, but he didn't pull away. You opened your eyes, looking directly into that crimson gaze, and forced a false tear to slip down your cheek.
"But Yuri... the radiator? The tea? The way I wait by the window, not for the 'cats,' but because I'm terrified you won't come home from one of those night shifts? WISE didn't teach me how to feel that. I was supposed to trap you, but I'm the one who ended up caught. I love you. Please, if you're going to take me in, just... stay like this for one more minute."
For a second, the mask of the SSS officer seemed to crumble completely.
Yuri's breath hitched, and his eyes softened with a look of pure, agonizing relief. He pulled you into a desperate, bone-crushing hug, burying his face in your shoulder.
"I knew it," he now looked like the man who fixed your radiator—the man who loved his sister, the man who was lonely. "Don't cry. Please, don't cry. You were just doing what you were told, weren't you? I've already imagined this a thousand times—finding out who you really are and finding a way to keep you anyway. The way you looked at me... it couldn't have been part of the job. It was real. You’re real. Thank God, you’re real."
He leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead in what felt like a forgiving kiss.
"Hold still," he murmurs. His tone is the same one he used when fixing your radiator.
The chain between the cuffs shifts with a soft clink as he turns your hands slightly, inspecting the angle. His fingers brush over the reddened skin where the metal has already begun to chafe.
"…They’re too tight," he said quietly, more like to himself than to you. "You always did have small wrists. I noticed it the first time I saw you—how fragile you looked. I should have accounted for that in the hardware."
"Please, Yuri, you don’t have to do this," you breathed.
Yuri ignored your plea. He adjusted the position so the edge no longer ground against bone. Air returned to your wrists in a slow, aching rush. “That's better, I don’t like seeing you in pain,”
"Yuri, look at me," you pressed, hoping to touch upon his soft side. "If you ever cared about the time we spent together... just let me go."
He looked up then, his gaze unreadable. His hand brushed past the ring of keys, and for one heartbeat of pure, blinding hope, you thought you'd won.
Then, his hand dropped back into his pocket.
In one smooth, practiced motion, he clicked the device into a port on a small, black recorder he'd been hiding under his coat. He spoke into it with a flat, robotic voice:
For a second I really had hope he would release us😭 How can someone be so obsessed but so work determined at the same time. He could be planning a whole wedding while she is literally in prison and call it love
Content: As a kid, all Sukuna ever really wanted was to be around you. He did just that for 10 years, only to spend the next 7 years wondering why you just stopped picking up the phone one day [tw: MDNI, angst/comfort/smuț, porņ with plot, friends to enemies(?) to lovers, uncle!sukuna, mentions of depression and low self esteem, sukuna's tongue is pierced, so is his 🍆, nıpple sucking, humpıng, óral (f receiving), fıngering, squırtıng, dacryphılia, matıng press] word count: 15k
Sukuna isn’t the type to hold on to promises, especially one made in elementary school. But, he never would’ve thought that you’d break it like that.
The promise? That you’d be each other's best friends until the day you died. Looking back, it might be a little dramatic, but you were eight years old— all eight year olds are dramatic.
Exactly how did you break said promise?
You ghosted him.
You fucking ghosted him.
You were friends for over a decade and the moment you went off to college, poof— gone! You stopped calling, stopped texting, deleted all your socials. It was as if you had never even existed and that you were just a figment of the man’s imagination.
Now that’s dramatic.
He’s texted and called you multiple times, no response. He’s asked mutual friends, they never got a response either. It got to a point where he had finally had it and texted your mother. You could only imagine how hurt he was when she told him you were doing just fine, and not that you were missing or in a coma.
He’d never admit it, though.
The years came and went. The hurt he once felt inevitably dulled. Yet, you always managed to linger around in the back of his mind, like a little ghost haunting him.
To this day, he still has no idea what he did wrong. You may have ghosted everybody, but he wasn’t just anybody. If anyone deserved an explanation, it was him.
He still cares for you, sorta, but it’s been so long, he’s not sure if he’d even want to reconnect with you. Not with how you just dropped him like that.
. . . . . .
“Are you excited?”
“No,” you respond a little too flatly for Ieiri, who shoots you the look right after. “Ugh, I’m sorry. It’s just been forever since I’ve seen everyone.”
She sighs, redirecting her attention back on the road— there’s not much to look at. Most people stay home on gloomy Sunday afternoons.
The GPS says you’re nine minutes away from your destination, making you remind yourself once more to relax. Though, you really wish you could be one of those people staying in right now. Cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie.
Ieiri taps her finger on the steering wheel. “It’s like what I said—”
What didn’t she say?
She held you hostage on the phone for over an hour last weekend, threatening and bribing, and then threatening you again if you didn’t go with her to Kento’s surprise birthday party.
You thought you had a good argument at the time.
“Do you realize how annoying that sounds? Kento doesn’t even like surprises, could you imagine how irritated he’d be if I just randomly popped up, too?”
“If you were Satoru? Yes. You? Doubt it. If anything, he’d probably like the distraction from it.”
“Yeah– probably,” you murmured.
“Can you please get out of your fucking head for once?” she scoffed. “Yeah, it’s been years since you’ve seen everyone, but it’s not like it’s because of a falling out. I don’t know where you got this weird idea that they hate you now because of it. It was them who told me to bring you!”
“Who’s them?” you stubbornly responded.
“Suguru, Satoru, Yuki, Choso— even Toji said something about bringing Megumi so you could see him.”
As much as you’d love to meet his kid, it would also be another reminder of all the years that’ve passed— how everyone moved on with their lives. Getting married, buying homes, having children, starting families.
The most you’ve done is get the job. You’d include the condo if you actually got to enjoy it, but it’s been a year since you bought it and you haven’t even bothered furnishing the place despite all the money you've saved up for it. The last thing you want to do after work is look at a screen and make more decisions. Deciding between color palettes and aesthetics, deciding on what decor and accents you want— it all sounded exhausting. Hiring an interior designer was an option. Except, you barely want to talk to a stranger, let alone work with one.
It’s too many decisions to be made for someone that didn’t want to make them. You often wonder if you’ve simply just become someone that couldn’t make them.
You’re well aware of the things that are wrong with you, but it didn’t make it any less surprising. You, paralyzed by choices and options?
The people who knew you professionally would laugh. Hard. Any sense of certainty that could be felt in the air almost always emanated from you. You were decisive. Sharp as hell— honed to perfection. Someone that was more than capable of a task as menial as filling a space full of items they liked.
You know what you like, don’t you?
No, not really.
You are sharp, there’s no doubt about it. It’s what your boss favors you for, and sure, one could say you’re valuable to the company, too. It’s a nice feeling for a while.
Then you realize there is quite literally nothing more subjective than the value of something.
Luckily, you are very useful. It was simply a fact, and every single one of your quarterly reviews solidified it. A coworker, or god forbid a client, could spend an entire hour talking shit about you, and they’d eventually reach the point where they’d have to backtrack with a little ‘well’ or ‘however’, before giving credit where it was due.
The devil works hard and you stole his pitchfork. Ripped it right out of his hands, because apparently, you needed it more than him to become the youngest portfolio manager the company’s ever seen.
Who cares about the value of something when you need it? Mr. Yaga claims to hate black tea, but leave him out in the desert long enough and he’d easily drink gallons of it.
Having you at the company isn’t a matter of life or death, there’s thousands of others out there that are more than qualified for your role. More than half probably had resumes twice as long as yours, too.
But for Yaga, there is no guarantee that day to day operations would run this smoothly, ever again.
You may be a little blunt. At times, impatient. But in a world full of sexual harassment allegations and sleezy managers abusing their power, not once has there ever been a formal complaint made against you. You’re not always like that either, you’re great with the clients and stakeholders.
It’s a talent, really— remembering all the personal details people tell you, like childhood stories, the places they’ve vacationed to, a spouse's birthday month that was briefly mentioned months ago. It makes people feel special.
It was very handy, too. Especially in the case where the company might deal with someone that isn’t likely to give them their hard-earned money or signature. Your job was to either sweet talk or gaslight. No arguing needed.
Yaga may have not preferred you at first. You were essentially a kid compared to the people that applied for the position.
The plan was to let you down easily, tell you to keep working hard and you’ll eventually get there. You were already lucky enough to have your foot in the door as an employee.
Yaga had a list of goals he wanted to reach before his retirement, though. Any of the other candidates would’ve helped with that, but none would've given him the opportunity to make a second list and cross that off as well.
The decision took months.
In that time, he realized a few things.
One, he spent his entire adult life playing it safe, which is an obvious sign of fearing growth. You’re not sure who taught him that, but at least he realized it was okay to start over and try something new. It was like a rebrand for him and he embraced that the “new” him craved more profit and welcomed different approaches.
The different approaches being, finding more aggressive people because they bring in the money quicker.
He never saw you as aggressive, though. He never saw you at all, actually. It wasn’t personal, those under 30 usually come and go, so he didn’t see much of a point in remembering names. What he did see, when he finally opened his eyes, was efficiency.
You were straight forward in a way that saved time, had an air about you that screamed “don’t ask me how my day’s going or what I have planned for after work”, yet approachable enough for work related questions. Stellar reports, received every quarterly and year-end bonus. Sharp.
Making you one of the managers meant he could wield you like a weapon, now you are the one he uses the most. You had the salary to prove it, yet no time or energy to enjoy it.
You’re respected. The young interns, the girls in particular, look up to you more often than not. Eyes bright and filled with ambition. Romanticizing everything, from how much coffee you drink, all the way to your style that they labeled as “effortless”. They’re not wrong, it is effortless— always some variant of trousers, a t-shirt, heels, and a long coat. They’re never planned, yet they somehow always manage to work thanks to the lack of color in your wardrobe.
You overheard your lack of jewelry and unpainted nails being appreciated once for how “clean” you look. All you could think of was the girl that used to do her hair and paint her own nails at one point. Except for the ones on her right hand. She saved that job for her best friend who surprisingly had a steady hand, despite complaints flying out of his mouth the entire time. Even on the days he gave in and painted his own nails black, he’d find something to be grumpy and complain about.
It was always you choosing whose house to hang out at, which movies to watch, what places to grab food from. He was a big brat whose favorite answer to most questions was an inaudible ‘I dunno’ from the way he’d mumble it. So, you always led the way.
Now it’s you mumbling that same exact ‘I dunno’ when you’re all alone.
You’re tired. Worn out. If you were a blade, you end each day dull and chipped. Nobody sees it, not even those young girls with all the time they’ve spent studying you, blinded by their own dreams and aspirations to be just as important, not knowing the difference between being valuable and useful.
Maybe it’s better off that way.
Who were you to try to burst their bubbles when you never had dreams or aspirations to begin with? Your eyes were never as bright as theirs— not as a student, not as an intern, and definitely not as a new hire.
You never had a spark to begin with, what makes you think they’d eventually lose theirs?
Maybe you were the unlucky one here.
You were the one whose head went under water after one bad semester, after all. Even now, years later, it still feels like you’re stuck in the deep end while everyone else has moved on.
Toji chose to get married and have a kid.
You can’t even choose yourself on most days.
“You have arrived at your destination.”
Fuck. You have a hard time believing the GPS was that loud when it was telling Ieiri which exit to take and where to turn.
Her lips thin into a reassuring smile as she makes the final turn into the apartment building’s parking garage, and you fail to return it as you take a deep breath. Ieiri doesn’t say anything this time, figuring you’ll probably just have to see everyone's excitement for yourself to realize this wasn’t a pity invite. It’ll settle half of your nerves.
The other half should settle itself with time and a drink. Several drinks, honestly. She did the best she could with telling everyone that what you pulled during your second year of college was 100% a you thing and to not talk about it unless you brought it up. Which you probably won’t— everyone will understand. No one wants to talk about being in a dark place when they haven’t fully left it.
One moment, you’re sitting in the passenger seat with your seat belt still buckled. Next, your chest is tightening as you watch her open the door to Satoru’s apartment. There’s already chattering, which stops once she announces your guys’ arrival.
You barely get the chance to look around before Suguru’s peaking his head out of the kitchen to see if you really did show up and lets out a laugh once he sees that you did. It was light and airy, the kind that’s accompanied by the warm feeling that you should get in your chest when seeing an old friend.
He’s obviously changed, it’s been 7 years. Yet, he never lost that quality that managed to make people a little more comfortable.
“Hey stranger.”
Your lips thin into a shy smile, “Hey.”
“Well?” Suguru asks, holding his arms out. “I know it’s been ages but there’s no need to be shy.”
“Sorry,” you murmur, stepping forward and accepting the hug.
He lets out another laugh. “Don’t be— it’s nice to see you.”
“Where’s mine?!”
You easily recognize the offended, slightly childish tone. You slowly turn your head around to see a slightly less lanky Satoru. Aside from getting some much needed meat on his bones, he doesn’t seem to have changed much. He’s still as unserious as ever, still wears sunglasses indoors like an asshole.
Ieiri stood back the entire time, sipping on a drink she had already managed to make, patting herself on the back as she watched her little plan run smoothly: Show up early and let you build some confidence from awkwardly greeting the old friends you shared together one by one.
It’s funny, you told her that they’d eventually move on to talking to the friends they made after you, but they all seemed more interested in circling back to you, whether it be handing you a shot or introducing you to a new face.
If there was one burden she wishes she could take from you, it’d be the burden that has you walking through the world as if you were everyone’s last choice.
Today should be enough to prove that.
“Yeah, no— at this point, fuck Nanami and his birthday. This is a better surprise.” Satoru throws an arm over you, slightly swaying from the shots he’s already taken. “Pfft– he doesn’t even like his birthday. I’m sure he’d be happier to see her, too—”
“He’s coming up the elevator,” Suguru cuts him off.
“SHIT! EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP AND HIDE,” Satoru suddenly yells, as if he weren’t just talking shit just seconds ago.
No one would be surprised if Kento heard him yelling at everyone like that, and given how hesitant of a knock there was at the door. The blonde probably already knows there’s something up.
Suguru goes to open the door, and the moment he opens his mouth to greet him, there’s a loud wave of people yelling ‘SURPRISE’ behind him, with Satoru saying it a split second sooner than anyone else did.
Kento’s eye slightly twitches. Half surprised, half irritated. He fucking hates surprises and knows that’s the only reason why Satoru decided to throw him one. Before a complaint can leave his mouth, Ieiri hands him an old fashion. He tries to speak again, but gets interrupted once more when she tells him who’s here.
At first he scoffs, already having enough of people of fucking with him today.
“No, I’m serious!” she swears, looking around trying to see where you were at, eventually catching a glimpse of your head in the kitchen. “There she is— come say hi.”
Ieiri grabs his wrist and pulls him through the living room and into the kitchen, where you, Yuki, and Choso were talking. She turns back to look at Kento, who’s already surprised by her rare display of excitement, as she gestures towards you.
“See? Surprise!”
“Yeah, surprise!!” Yuki says right after.
“Holy shit.” Kento rarely curses, but finds himself unable to come up with better words. “It’s been ages!”
“I know!” You try to sound more apologetic, but ultimately fail from the nice buzz you had going on. “Happy birthday!”
And for once, he’s a little less uptight about it when he gives you a hug and says his thanks. It was a nice surprise, he had to admit. If only Satoru didn’t have to ruin the moment with the way he barged into the kitchen with some stupid, frilly party hat in hand, begging Kento to put it on.
“I said no!”
“C’mon, Nanamin!” Satoru whines, taking a step forward each time the blonde takes a step back. “You’re not getting any younger.”
“I don’t want to get any younger— I’m a grown man, and so are you. Maybe you should start acting like one.”
“I do! I’m just fun,” he continues to pester him, ignoring everything Kento mumbles under his breath.
You end up excusing yourself to use the restroom, somewhat bummed you couldn’t stick around longer to watch them bicker some more. You’re sure it went on for a while, though, unaware of how it was cut short when Shoko grabs Satoru by the arm.
He hisses at how tight of a grip she has on him, fingers digging into his skin as she pulls him aside.
“What is your problem?!” he asks through a clenched jaw.
“Sukuna’s here?!”
“Yeah?” He tries and fails to free himself from her grip as he answers. “I thought it’d be a nice surprise!”
She looks at him like he’s stupid, nails continuing to dig into his flesh. “A nice surprise? He fucking hates her. I wouldn’t have brought her here if I knew he was coming!”
“Ow ow ow— No he doesn’t?! Do you actually believe that?!” he groans in between each sentence.
“Yes! He says it every time someone brings her up!”
“Ow ffuck! You know how dramatic he can be sometimes— fuck, Shoko, please, you’re breaking skin.”
“You deserve it!” she responds in a clipped tone, despite finally letting go.
“Jesus Christ— you can’t just assault people like that,” he pouts, rubbing his arm. “It’ll be fine! It’s been years, he can’t hold a grudge that long.”
. . . . . .
Sukuna can absolutely hold a grudge that long.
Except, he was staring at said grudge like some fucking loser, and had to remind himself that it was still alive and well.
At first he thought you were just one of Satoru’s new friends as you walked through the living room, shyly making your way around everyone, but then you just so conveniently looked up in his direction.
His eyes nearly widened.
And yours actually did, looking as guilty as you should be.
The longer you two stood there, looking at each other from across the room in shock, the guilt you had in your eyes started to fade. He was sure everyone else welcomed you back with open arms, and in turn got irritated because you probably thought he’d do the same. So before you could even think to take a step in his direction, he wiped the shock off his face and replaced it with a look that’s able to make even grown men turn around and walk the other way.
Which is exactly what you did, stomach slowly twisting into a tight knot as you immediately began to replay the death glare he gave you over and over in your head.
Sukuna didn’t stay long and left shortly after. Not without pretending like he didn’t know you when he said goodbye to everyone, including Kento, who he never even got the chance to say hi to in the first place.
Shoko didn’t think that was enough to have a complete 180 in your mood. She then realized you were already quiet before that. You also decided to stay in the kitchen, where there was a wall in between you and him.
So yeah, she blames Sukuna.
“Are you sure he didn’t say anything to you?” Ieiri asked one last time as she pulled up to your apartment building.
“Nah— my stomach just started to hurt. I don’t drink alcohol that much.”
She still didn’t believe you, not with how big of an asshole Sukuna can be, which is why a certain someone got an earful over the phone the moment you got out of the car. He barely got a word out while she threw nothing but insults and threats so specific his way, that he had begun to believe them.
Of course Satoru felt bad! He didn’t want you to disappear again for another seven years and have it be all of his fault. So, he gives Sukuna a call, continuing the cycle of abuse started by Shoko.
The phone rings three times. Sukuna never finishes saying hello before Satoru tries to grill him. “Alright, what did you say to her?”
“Who the fuck are you even talking about right now?”
Sukuna knows exactly who he’s talking about, Satoru can just see his face crinkling in fake disgust over the accusation because he’s just a bullshiter at the end of the day.
“Shoko thinks you said something to her— she said she was acting all weird and shit when she came back from the bathroom.”
“She’s already fuckin’ weird,” Sukuna scoffs.
“So you did see her before you walked into the kitchen to say bye?”
“Yeah, I saw her. Doesn’t mean I said anything to her though, you fuckin’ moron.”
Satoru sighs and rubs his temple, knowing he probably looked at you like he wanted to skin you alive.
“What? Is looking at her a crime now?”
“With the way you look at people? It should be.” It’s clearly not the first time Sukuna’s managed to simply offend someone his face with the way it comes out as a complaint on Satoru’s end.
“Why do you even care?”
“Don’t turn this back around on me?!”
“Then quit trying to grill me over the way I look at people. Seriously— she comes back and you all are fuckin’ babying her like she’s some victim. It’s not that serious.”
“Well Shoko—”
“Shoko can fuck off.” Sukuna cuts him off. “Don’t bother me about something stupid like this again. If she can’t handle someone looking at her in a way that she doesn’t like, maybe she should stay home and lock herself in her fuckin’ room.”
“I– she already did!” he tries to come to your defense. “Shoko won’t tell me much, but she was going through it for years. She probably still is! She doesn’t go out at all. I tried telling you before and you wouldn’t listen.”
There’s a long pause before a disappointed sigh could be heard. Satoru could tell it was directed towards himself instead of you. “She was going through it, so she locked herself in a room for years?”
“Not literally,” he scoffs. “Look, all I know is she was dealing with depression and now she’s all anti-social because of it.”
“She should’ve fuckin’ said something then.”
“Well, she fuckin’ didn’t.”
“That’s–”
“If that’s an opinion, it doesn’t matter,” he cuts the man off, starting to grow impatient. Satoru has adhd— the severe, annoying kind. There’s only so much he could handle before getting the violent urge to scream out random noises. “I’m just gonna give you her number so you can talk to her if you want. Who knows, she might even open up to you more since you were the one closest to her.”
“I don’t want her n—”
“YES YOU DO.” Satoru yells, leaving Sukuna more appalled than annoyed. “I just sent it. BYE.”
click.
Sukuna glares at his phone for a moment as if it were an extension of Satoru, convinced he was dropped as a child or something and just doesn’t know it. He knows he definitely wouldn’t tell his kid if he dropped them as a baby.
He relaxes his tensed brows and shakes his head as he pulls up the number Satoru sent. For some reason, he expected it to be your old number that he still somehow knew by heart.
He hates that he remembers it.
He also hates that the actual reason why you disappeared isn’t as dumb and selfish as he wanted it to be.
. . . . . .
In the three weeks he’s had your number, he hasn’t tried reaching out. He also hasn’t accepted any invitations to hang out with anyone as a group, despite being told that you were okay with him showing up. Part of it was spite, the rest being him genuinely tired from work.
His old man’s been taking more time off under the guise of letting him ‘take over for the day’. He acts so gracious with it, too, as if Sukuna should be thankful for the opportunity, when really, Wasuke should just fucking retire already so he can hire someone else to take his place as site manager. He’s essentially working two jobs now and when he asked for a raise, that old piece of shit laughed so hard that he damn near coughed up fifty years worth of cigarette tar.
You’d think watching his father nearly hack up an entire lung would be enough to make him quit smoking himself, but that shit pissed him off so bad that he smoked three cigarettes in a row just to calm down before going back to work. It still pisses him off. He doesn’t regret taking $50 out of that old man's wallet on his way out to cover his gas for the day. He honestly should’ve taken more.
It’s been months since he’s gotten home at a decent time. Tonight was probably the worst thus far.
He drags his feet into his apartment and kicks off his boots, heavy eyes landing on the clock that’s two minutes away from 10:00 pm.
The next ten minutes are spent shoveling leftovers into his mouth, followed by a hot shower that was mainly spent just standing there, zoning out as the hot water hit his back. It’s been days since he’s jacked off, realizing it doesn’t even give him the urge, his sex drives plummeted all the way down to hell. He just wants to sleep at this point.
Except when his head hits the pillow, he’s wide awake. It doesn’t help that he ends up scrolling through instagram— there was hardly a point for someone that barely followed anyone to begin with.
There’s not much to scroll through. The most interesting thing being a recent post of Suguru’s night. He absentmindedly looks through them, then pauses at the 4th photo of you and Shoko with your little drinks in hand.
You were barely smiling.
Your lips curved just enough for the camera— nothing like the photos of you from before, grinning and laughing. That’s how he’s always remembered you.
Would it have even made a difference if he told you not to move so far away for school? It’s not like he could’ve known, you never said anything. He thought you were doing just fine and you deleted everything one day and changed your number.
He taps the photo to see who’s tagged. Just Shoko. You still haven’t gotten back on social media, no profile to see what you’ve been up to. All he knows about you is that you moved back to the area after graduation and scored a cozy finance job without telling anyone. The only reason why you got in touch with Shoko again was because she ran into you at some bakery and made you give her your number.
It didn’t even matter if you did have a new phone with no contacts by the time you moved back. You didn’t need to text him or call him, you could’ve just shown up. Sure, he might’ve been annoyed at first, but he wouldn’t have turned you away.
You’ve known each other since 8 years old, you disappeared at 19. That’s his whole childhood right there. You played together, ate lunch together, walked to school together until he got a car, ditched school together. You had your own shampoo and toothbrush at his and would just use his clothes if you didn’t have a spare set with you.
It’s just dumb.
Still thinking about it, that is. It’s been years. It may have been fine to still be thinking about it at 21 or 22, but now it’s just ridiculous.
. . . . . .
You aren’t expecting Sukuna to warm up any time soon. At all, really. You couldn’t blame him for the reaction he had seeing you at Kento’s birthday. If there was one person that deserved an explanation, it was him, and you’re just about seven years too late for that.
He wasn’t the same person you knew. You couldn’t just go up to him expecting that you’d get to have a conversation. A civil one, at least.
It’s been years.
And honesty, it might not even be about being several years too late. He’s a grown man, why would he care about a childhood friend that just up and left?
All there’s left to do now is to stay out of his way. You’re sure his temper’s the same and the last thing you want is to bug him. Hopefully being at a kids birthday party shields you from it in the case that you accidentally do. From what you heard, he seems close enough with Toji to know not to fuck with his sons special day.
It’s not all bad. Toji couldn’t come to Kento’s birthday since his wife and son woke up sick that day, so you were more excited than nervous for today since you’d get to meet them.
This time it was you that picked up Ieiri. You felt a little guilty for being the one that constantly got rides, despite having a running car of your own. Once you two got to the little park in their neighborhood, everyone was already there, including Sukuna, who was stuck having to watch his nephew that you’ve heard about through Choso.
The biggest plot twist of all was probably learning that Jin is now technically Choso’s stepfather. You knew Choso had a teen mom, you didn’t know she was that young, though. You also had no idea how much of a milf hunter Jin was, either.
Jin apparently didn’t know that was Choso’s mother. No one believes him, especially not Sukuna, who still looks at two like they’re a couple of fucking sickos for making him Choso’s step-uncle.
The kid’s name is Yuji, and he looks just like Jin and Sukuna when they were kids. He’s the same age as Toji’s son, who’s turning 3 today. Yuji acts nothing like his father or his uncle. Jin was always quiet and sensitive. Sukuna was sensitive, too, but he was always very vocal about the things that annoyed him. The toddler was more like Gojo, hopped up on sugar and bouncing off the walls.
Sukuna calls out to him like an angry mother at a grocery store, gritting his teeth as he tells the kid to, “get your ass over here, NOW,” all while Yuji pretends not to hear or see him…. up until Sukuna gets up from the bench, which is when the little boy decides to run back to him, whining about how he’s sorry and how he didn’t know.
Megumi’s more quiet and follows Yuji around. He even ran back to Sukuna with the boy, worried that his friend's uncle was going to leave him at the park too, even though his father was at the grill just a few feet away.
Watching the two boys play is adorable, but you try not to look too much in an attempt to avoid making eye contact with the grumpy uncle, which ends up becoming more difficult than you’d imagined. The kid eventually wore him out to the point where he managed to slip out his view.
Yuji didn't go very far.
“...es’cuse me?”
You feel a little tug at your shorts and look down to find an incredibly worried Yuji, who should’ve gone to an adult he knew, but here he was after quickly deciding you were the trusted adult for whatever problem he had.
“What’s wrong?” You crouch down, getting at eye level. “Are you okay?”
“No,” he shakes his head, pointing to his feet. “I donno how to tie my shoes.”
“You don’t?” you ask, sounding just as concerned. “Do you want me to tie them for you?”
He pouts. “Yes, please.”
Your heart melts at his little voice. “Aw, okay.”
Like any other kid, Yuji’s amazed at how fast adults can tie shoelaces, unable to keep up with the strings crossing and looping around each other to create the little bow at the end.
“Yay!” He claps his hands, jumping in excitement. “We can play again, Gumi!”
Megumi thinks to celebrate with his friend, but closes his mouth right after opening it.
Then you’re startled by a scoff made directly behind you. “You make a stranger tie your shoes and you can’t even say thank you?”
The last to freeze is Yuji, who side-eyes him, rather than turning to face him. “Um.. ya I did..”
“No you didn’t?!” The toddler's ability to lie over something so simple amazes and offends the man at the same time. Does Yuji seriously think he’s that stupid? “I watched you lie about not knowing how to tie your shoes and then I watched you try to run off with even thanking her.”
“I donno how to tie my shoe!” Yuji stomps a foot on the ground to prove whatever point he thought he was making.
“Yes, you do— now thank her, before I take your shoes away.”
“Oh no, not my shoes!”
“Yeah. Bye bye, shoes.” Sukuna snorts, clearly enjoying this. “You’re a big boy now, remember? You don’t need them.”
“Yes, I do!” Yuji whines.
“Then have some manners and say thank you.” Sukuna continues to glare at the kid while pointing at you.
“Thank you for tying my shoe,” Yuji tightly grabs the bottom of his t-shirt with both hands and bows at you, then turns to his uncle and starts whimpering. “Don’t eat my shoes, Unkakuna! I need them!”
Sukuna’s even more annoyed now at how specific that was. “Who said I was gonna eat them?!”
“I dunno! You eat everything!” Yuji claims, bottom lip quivering and all, making his uncle's eye twitch in disbelief. “It’s all stuck in your big belly.”
Sukuna’s face drops, as if he didn’t see a 6-pack in the mirror this morning with his own eyes.
“I don't have a goddamn belly,” he scolds him through a clenched jaw, then lowers his tone as he begins to crouch down. “Do you want me to hit your Papa Jin?”
“No!!!”
“Then quit acting like I eat everything in sight, you little shit.”
Yuji scratches the back of his head as he continues to whine, trying to force a couple tears out. Eventually he turns to you. “He’s gonna hit my papa with his big belly.”
“Uh-oh. That's not nice,” you begin to laugh, all while Sukuna grumbles something about Jin being the one with love handles.
“Papa gonna cry,” he claims, continuing to act distraught over the news, trying to get all the sympathy he can from you. “My poor papa.”
You giggle. “I don’t think he’ll hit your papa, though.”
“He’s gonna EAT my papa!” Yuji stretches his arms out, emphasizing how big of a meal that would be for Sukuna. As if it couldn't get any worse, Yuji finds a random basketball and tries to stuff it under his shirt. “Then his belly will be big like THIS.”
“Stop it,” Sukuna snaps, pointing off into the distance behind the kid. “Get out of here before I barbecue you on that grill Mr. Toji’s using.”
“Hey!” Yuji gasps. “You can’t do that!”
“You can barbecue anything when you have barbecue sauce, Yuji.” he informs the kid, then notices a mortified Megumi standing off to the side. “You’re next.”
“DAAAADDDDYYYYYYYY.”
The boys run to Toji at full speed. Yuji thinks it’s a game, but Megumi’s genuinely scared, sobbing as his father picks him. His dad’s obviously confused as to why his son’s crying like someone threatened to kill him. Once Megumi’s able to actually get a full sentence out as he points right as Sukuna.
If Megumi thought he was going to receive any sort of comfort from his father, he was dead wrong. Toji bursts out laughing and doesn’t stop, even when Megumi starts screaming and hitting him for not being more concerned over something so dire.
“Megumi says you’re not allowed to have any cake,” Toji yells out.
“I’m taking Yuji home if I don’t get a slice.”
Sukuna’s response has the two boys whining in the distance.
“NO barbecue me.” Megumi glares as he tries to strike a deal with the most difficult person he’s encountered so far in his short, yet stressful life.
“Give me three slices and I won’t barbecue you.”
“But Unkukuna, you’re belly!” Yuji rounds his arms out in front of him, emphasizing how detrimental those extra calories would be for his physique.
Everyone grows quiet as Sukuna stares him down, wondering who the fuck even taught him that. Whoever it was better pray to god that he doesn’t find out.
“I’m not gonna be your uncle anymore if you keep talking about my belly.”
Yuji reaches out in despair as he screams, “NOOO.”
“No? You don’t want that?” he asks, fighting back a smile.
Yuji throws his back dramatically, shaking his head. “NO.”
“That’s what I thought,” he barks, not bothering to hide how proud breaking Yuji down with a singular sentence made him. “Now ZIP IT.”
“KAY’.”
Yuji looks away for a moment to take a deep breath, trying to calm down, all while sneaking little peeks at Sukuna.
He quickly looks away after seeing that his uncle’s staring at him, then peeks again. It happens several times, yet his uncle hasn’t moved a muscle once as he continues to just look at the boy like he’s better than him.
What kind of a sick game is this?
Naturally, he grows irritated knowing Sukuna is winning whatever game this is, which isn’t fair since he’s already going to have three slices of cake later. Even one slice was pushing it, to tell you the truth. He was too young to put into words why it pissed him off. All he knows is watching Sukuna enjoy good things, that are meant for good people, will never sit right with his spirit.
By the time Sukuna decided to stop staring at the kid as a form of psychological warfare, you had already been awkwardly standing there for quite some time, unsure if you should leave or not. It was either look rude or look too comfortable, neither of which you wanted to come off as.
Sukuna wasn’t mad at you anymore. At least not since Gojo called and told him you were and still are dealing with some mental health stuff.
He wasn’t planning on talking to you today, either, purely because he didn’t believe he should have to apologize for giving someone a harmless look. But then he caught Yuji trying to get your attention and figured it would’ve been fine since 2 minutes with him would make anyone want to choose peace for the next hour.
You couldn’t tell what he was thinking when your eyes finally met his, but at least he wasn’t giving you that same disgusted look you got at Nanami’s birthday.
You weren’t the best at starting conversations outside of work, though, and quickly embarrassed yourself with how bad you stuttered while trying to find something to say, which ended up being an apology for tying the kids' shoe.
In turn, Sukuna looked at you like you were a fucking weirdo.
“What? No, it’s— that’s fine,” he waves a hand, still thrown off by the apology. “He just goes around annoying anybody he can.”
“Oh– don’t worry, he didn’t annoy me. He's adorable.”
You suppress a laugh as he shoots you a look saying he’s anything but that.
“He’s a pain in the ass,” he grumbles, already rubbing his eyes from how tired he is. “We passed around a baseball for an hour before coming here and he’s still running around trying to convince people that I’m a fatass.”
He has to be at least 200 pounds of pure muscle and has the ass of a baseball player, so you neither confirm nor deny the words out of fear that you’d make yourself look stupid again. “He probably just likes your attention.”
“That’s the problem— he’s probably taken 10 years off my life already because of it,” he smiles a little, obviously more fond of the kid that he lets on.
You avert your gaze as you find yourself smiling as well. “His poor parents.”
“They have good life insurance, he’ll be set.”
“Oh, I'm sure,” you laugh with him until it dies down into another awkward silence. You’ve barely looked at him and try not to think too much about it after the realization. Having a conversation with him was surprising enough. Difficult on your end, too, but you pushed yourself. “How’ve your dad and Jin been?”
“Jin’s been good, he’s—” he huffs out a laugh, “you know he went and made Choso his fuckin’ stepson right?” He openly points at Choso, not very worried about getting caught.
“Yeah,” you nod, just as surprised by it, more so by the fact that Choso and Yuji and brothers.
“Well. He’s still going strong with Kaori. Just bought a house,” he struggles to list things worth sharing— aside from the mommy kink, his brother’s pretty boring. Sukuna quickly moves on to Wasuke, who he has no issue talking about. “Old man’s driving me nuts. Says he wants to retire, instead he just takes a bunch of days off and pretends he’s doing me a favor by letting me play boss while he’s gone, so now I’m doing my job and his.”
“You’re working for the company?”
He sighs deeply. “Yeah.”
It pains him to say, remembering all that talk about him wanting ‘something of his own’ when he was younger. Now here he is, set to take over daddy’s company.
“I mean… it’s already there,” you try to offer some words of reassurance, being the one that heard most of the said talk. “All you have to do is maintain it once it’s yours.”
“Exactly,” his tone changes, less ashamed of pulling the nepo baby card. “I’m not tryna work any harder than I should at this point.”
“Does he pay you extra on the days he’s off, at least?”
“Fuck no.” He laughs, even though there is nothing funny about being exploited at his grown age. “Yeah— nope— he works me like a fuckin’ dog.”
Hence why he’s been helping himself to whatever cash is in the old man’s wallet and whatever food he has in his pantry when he visits. He makes good money to begin with, so it’s not like he can’t afford any of it, it’s just the principal.
He’ll take Wasuke’s toilet paper, too.
That old man has one year to either give him a raise or retire completely before couches and T.V.s start to go missing.
“Old man’s been good, though… still kickin’,” he mutters, then stops himself before saying something really fucked up, “What’ve you been up to?”
You shrug as you let out an indecisive hum, knowing you didn’t have much to share. “Nothing really— work usually has me pretty busy.”
He’s well aware of how boring of a life you have, but still tries to push for more details. “Yeah? Suguru says you’re in finance now.”
“Mhm,” you nod, growing shy, “portfolio manager.”
“You spend the day telling people what to do now?” he asks as if he were almost impressed.
“Not really,” you laugh. “A lot of it’s research, reporting, meeting with clients, I— yeah, I mainly just take care of more of the sensitive stuff. If my manager hat’s on, it’s usually just collecting reports from the other managers or figuring out what’s going on with their teams if they’re not performing the way they need to.”
He nearly barks out a laugh.
You look at him with confusion. “What?”
“So instead of managing a bunch of people, you just terrorize their managers?”
“I don’t terrorize them,” you murmur, shifting in place. “It’s their job to make sure that their teams are performing well and if they aren’t—”
“You ask them why they aren’t doing their jobs,” he finishes your sentence with an amused grin. “Then they sit there for the next hour, trying to come up with an answer for that.”
You pause for a moment, wondering if he has to do the same. “Well— kind of.”
You don’t have time to sit there and listen for an hour, nor do you want to. The longest one went just over twenty minutes before you had to stop her.
“Listen, Linda— I,” you stopped to think twice about what you were going to say, “I’m just asking why there’s been a dip in the performance, I really don’t need an entire life story for that. Why don’t we take a few steps back— how has your team been?”
“Well… uhm… well… they…” You nodded, thinking it’d encourage her, and it did, but 5 minutes later she went off course to talk about her failing marriage, again. “And then Dave, he—”
“Is Dave a new hire?”
Her eyes dried right up. “No… Dave is my husband.”
You knew damn well who Dave was, but she was starting to get on your nerves.
“Okay, let’s talk about your team right now… this is about work— Dave doesn’t work here.” You tried your best to be patient with her, but it was like teaching a kindergartener how to self regulate. “I wanna know things like how everyone’s been mentally— are they eating, are they getting enough sleep, are they taking their breaks? Are they having to work through them?”
She didn’t know. She just wanted to give you a sob story so you’d let her off the hook. So, when she mentioned Dave a third time:
“This isn’t working,” you murmur to yourself as you turn to your computer and start typing. “I’m going to make a little worksheet for everyone, including you. Think of it as a peer review. You’ll have one for each team member and each team member will have one for you. I think that’ll be an easier way to get to the bottom of things.”
Instead of excusing herself, she stares at you like a deer in headlights.
“There’s no need to wait on me by the way, I’ll have them emailed out to everyone within the next hour.”
On the rare occasion that you do have to ask performance related questions, you send them the same exact worksheet so they have an idea of what you wanted to talk about— which is the only part you mention to Sukuna. He’d probably accuse you of terrorizing Linda when you know you could’ve been ten times worse.
You’re just glad he didn’t ask about any of the other stuff you had to do.
Sometimes you wished you spent your days in Linda’s professional shoes— god forbid you ever had to deal with a man like Dave. Her job was less demanding than yours. More human. Working with others and collaborating with them must be great in terms of keeping you grounded— normal people, that is.
You wouldn’t consider any of the people you answer to now as normal. The stakeholders, clients, the higher ups, Yaga— they’re all fucking crazy. You couldn’t just pretend like they were normal, you had to match their energy and in some cases, you had to be worse to finish whatever job you were tasked to do, which drove you closer to their territory with each day that passed.
“Do you like it there?” Sukuna looks at you and asks, tone fond and filled with warmth, as if he were proud of you.
In the same moment you realize that you were only fooling yourself earlier when you tried to believe that he hated you.
You wish you could turn back time by just a few seconds to change the subject. You didn’t want to answer a question that he clearly wanted a yes to— you’re sure it’d make him feel better about knowing you chose to spend all those years alone, when you had someone would’ve easily stayed by your side.
You grew stiff, eyes glossing at the question because you hated the real answer to it.
“Not really,” you murmur, almost ashamed to admit it. “That’s kinda how I feel about most things, though.”
It was true. You don’t even know why you’re wishing for a job like Linda’s, you always came off as cold and hardly spoke to others before the big promotion.
He didn’t know what to say to that, he wasn’t even sure if there were any words you could give to someone as apathetic as you sounded when answering. It’s not like he was the type to offer anything encouraging to begin with. Instead, he stayed quiet, comfortable in the silence as he let his own mind run free for a bit.
Just as you were starting to think you made him uncomfortable—
“Did anyone have to drag you here today?” he asks.
“No.”
“So you chose to come to soot sprites' birthday?” he asks, as judgmental as ever.
You smile. “I did.”
He gently rests his hand on top of your head, leaving you with a familiar sense of comfort as he leaned in. “You’re not doing too bad then.”
“Uncle-Kunaaaaaaa!” The man looks up to see his nephew sprinting towards him. “My tummy growling!!”
“This kid’s always coming up with the most extra ways to say things,” he mutters under his breath as he pulls away. “So you’re hungry?”
Yuji slows down the closer he gets, until he’s skipping towards the man. “Yeah. Mr. Toji says he make chicken sticks.”
Sukuna looks at Yuji the way he always does whenever the kid decides to rename something. “You mean skewers?”
“Yeah, chicken sticks,” Yuji nods, confidently repeating himself, because Sukuna was obviously wrong, even though Toji said skewers, too. Both men obviously don’t know what they’re talking about.
The man actually looked to you for help, and given how it’s an issue between a 3 year old rage baiter and a grown man that will make time to argue with a child, you decide to stay out of it.
“That sounds yummy,” you say to Yuji, and you could feel Sukuna glaring at you for not even bothering to call them skewers, too. “You guys should probably grab some before Suguru arrives, he loves chicken and leftovers.”
Sukuna lets out a mixture of a scoff and a laugh since it’s true, but if anyone’s taking those skewers home, it’s him.
Which is why he lets Yuji start to pull him away to get some.
. . .
Getting to talk to you more, after being pulled away from Yuji, hardly counted since it was with groups of other people.
Luckily for Sukuna, your car’s parked right next to his and you’re leaving at the same time he’s trying to get the little brat in his car seat. He’s half asleep and won’t let go— each time he physically tries to pry Yuji off of him, he does this weird muted scream.
He’s about 2.5 seconds away from wrestling this kid when he hears someone.
“Bye.”
It comes off as a little unnatural, but it’s in more of an awkward ‘I don’t know if I should say goodbye to you right now’ way.
Sukuna turns around. “Oh, wait—”
His hand slides into his pocket, only to find it empty, then realizes it’s in the pocket of his jacket. The side where Yuji’s on and won’t leave. You stay in the place the whole time, wondering if he’s aware of how funny he looks grumbling to himself as he checks all his other pockets.
He eventually finds his business card, then rolls his eyes after realizing he’s about to give you a business card, because he’d rather not tell you he already has your number. To add salt to injury, he didn’t even need to pull his phone out, because the goal was to give you his number.
“Here.” He hands the semi-decent card over for you to take, surprised it’s not more broken down since he’s always leaving them in his pockets, even when he’s throwing his clothes in the washer. “You don’t have to of course, but feel free to reach out if you’re interested in catching up sometime over lunch or something.”
“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You look at the card, flipping it over a couple times. “Um… I don’t actually… need this, though.”
He stares at you for a moment, wondering if it was just some pathetic, last minute excuse to turn him down.
“I already have it,” you shyly admit, handing the card back to him as if it were better off going to someone else. “Satoru gave it to me a couple weeks ago. I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear from me.”
“Fair enough.” He shrugs, reluctant to say more— he might be down to catch up, but he’s still not apologizing for his face. “Shoot me a text sometime, then. I wouldn’t mind.”
“Yeah, I will.” You smile a little, trying to hide a bit of the excitement that was starting to bubble up. “Alright, well— it was nice seeing you.”
“Yeah, you too.”
. . . . . .
‘You’re not doing too bad.’
It took around 3 months after the words left Sukuna’s mouth to actually start believing them.
It’s not like your life was crazy interesting now. It just slowly started to fill up with things you looked forward to over time. Whether it be hanging out with others or simply sitting in your living room with a latte you took your time making. Your apartment started to feel more like a home with each new addition you added to it. You were nowhere near done, but you found yourself enjoying the process of casually looking through items and randomly falling in love with different ones.
The newest addition was a painting you saw a year ago and decided not to buy, despite how much you loved it. You stood in that gallery for over an hour, convincing yourself that it would never get that much attention from you again once you took it home. You were convinced that it’d find a way to collect dust in a space that felt as sterile as yours, and left it for someone that had a home where it wouldn’t.
You found it again in a consignment store with a big coffee stain on the side of the canvas. The person who ended up buying it probably got rid of the moment it spilled. They didn’t even bother hanging it up, and most likely had it on some counter before the accident happened. By the time you got to it, it was collecting dust with dozens of other paintings leaned against the wall since they weren’t good enough to be hung up.
You paid less than a quarter of it was originally worth, but a part of you thinks you would’ve purchased it for its original price if it meant you got to take it home. You’ve thought about it nearly everyday since you stepped out of that pristine gallery, after all.
Sukuna stared at it for a while before hanging it up. You can’t remember how the conversation started, but he came over and put it up for you after finding out you were going to do it yourself, claiming you didn’t have the right tools. You probably don’t.
It wasn’t until the canvas was up on the wall when he finally asked the question you had been expecting to get after you caught him looking at it funny.
“That brown stuff on the bottom corner is a part of the whole thing, right?”
“Nope.”
He just stood there and continued staring at the damn thing with you, waiting silently for an explanation that he soon realized he’d never get on his own.
“Are coffee stains some new trend I don’t know about?”
He was dead serious. It was almost funny how he couldn’t believe that you’d just buy something that was stained like that.
“Nope, not a trend.”
He continued to stare at you, so utterly confused as to why you want that thing hung up on your wall when you could just walk into one of those art shops and buy a new one. It’s not like you couldn’t afford it, he’s seen some of the shit you own and you’re clearly not bothered by commas on a price tag.
You eventually told him the story. He probably still didn’t get it, but that didn’t really matter.
“How cute,” he says rather boredly, wondering why you couldn’t just tell him that in the first place. “You didn’t buy it for more than 50% of its price, right?”
You shoot him an annoyed look. “I spent almost an entire year sulking over it, do you seriously think the price of it matters at this point? I wanted it.”
“You probably ended up cursing the damn thing so no one else could have it. People don’t usually spill coffee on paintings.” he says, starting to laugh the longer he thought about it.
You don’t laugh with him, but he does catch the proud look on your face as you walk away, just happy to have it. He walks after you with another question in mind, hoping now was an okay time since he always forgets.
“Mind me asking why you’re just now starting to furnish the place?”
You shrug. “I was just always too tired to get out of bed. If it wasn’t for work, I wasn’t getting up,” you remind him. “Too many choices to make, too. I’d get overwhelmed and stop looking for stuff.”
“Yeah, there’s a lotta shit out there,” he murmurs, helping himself to one of the white claws in your fridge.
The can cracks open and he takes a sip, looking over your living room that’s become a bit more filled in since the first time he came over to help you put your couch together. The place was so empty that he automatically assumed you had recently moved in.
He’s been helpful since Megumi’s birthday— at least he tries to be.
It never feels forced, most of the time it’s just him asking if you wanna come along to a place he was already going to, just to get you out of the house.
He also asks how you’re actually doing, a lot— figuring you were just someone that needed some extra support, given how one lonely, difficult semester made you isolate yourself to the point where you started to believe you weren’t worth missing.
Once, he almost asked how you could’ve ever put him into that category. He loved you, both platonically and not platonically. But he never asked, the past is the past and that’s probably just how it is when someone’s spirit’s in the dumps.
He’s far from a therapist and never has any advice to give, but he was surprisingly good at getting you out of your head— pull you back to reality, without the reality check. You’ve obviously had more than enough of them. It’s why he doesn’t bother being harsh with you, at all. Even during the times he’s come off as more straightforward, you don’t feel any judgement or malice behind his words. The last thing he wanted was to say or do something that made you think you couldn’t give him a call.
It’s probably why you’re so comfortable with having him come over and why you don’t mind telling him certain things, like the fact that you spent most of your free time sleeping at one point. He never bats an eye. He just wants to be around you, like he’s always had.
“Summers’ coming up. Getting anything for the balcony?” he asks, nodding in the direction of its doors.
You turn your head, looking over at the empty space. “What would I even get?”
He’s mid-sip when you ask, but hums in acknowledgment. “Some seating, a little table, maybe a fire pit if you’re feeling extra crazy.”
You fight back a smile, “Oh? Thanks, asshole.”
“You might be a grandma, but I never said there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“I’m trying not to be, okay.” You give him the finger as you walk to the fridge, hoping he didn’t take the last seltzer. Seconds later you’re cracking one open yourself.
He chuckles at the little pout you get on your face when you’re offended. “I’m just fuckin’ with you— you’re fine.”
“I guess,” you murmur, leaving him in the kitchen to go take a seat on the couch.
He trails behind you, leaving enough space between the two of you as he takes a seat on the couch he nearly lost his mind trying to put together. The instructions were in a language so uncommon that most people go about their lives without knowing about it.
“What do you mean you guess?”
“I don’t know,” you murmur. “Kinda feel guilty for all the years I lost, I wish I could get them back.”
“I bet,” he leans back in his seat. “You ever considered making more time for yourself, now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Taking some time off. Could be a week, could be a couple months. You could even try working part time for a little. You have a savings, I’m sure you could get away with taking a break.”
“Oh— yeah, I have actually. The company has really good benefits, though. It’s kinda why I haven’t even tried to leave,” you turn towards him, leaning against the arm rest as you hug your knees. “I’ve been considering asking for a demotion, though.”
You’re not quite sure how Yaga would handle that. You’ve been coming up with different ideas all month— a hybrid schedule, switching to a 4 day work week, maybe leaving early some days, a demotion. You’re sure taking on another role would have its own difficulties, but it’d be easy to handle compared to all you do now. The workload you have really should be split between two people, maybe even three.
“That’d definitely be a lot less work,” he remarks, still shocked at all the shit he has you do.
“A lot less— I’m hoping Yaga agrees to one of them. If not, I might just find some place else. I could probably take a few months off then. Free time does sound nice.”
“Yeah you could sleep in, hang out with anyone who’s free, find a hobby, go on a date—“
His last suggestion gets shut down with a laugh. “Yeah, right.”
“What?” he smirks.
“I suck at dating,” you inform him. “I don’t even know how to anymore.”
He snorts. “That’s a little dramatic, no?”
“It’s true— last time I went on one was three years ago.”
He raises his brows, then flatly asks, “Three?”
“Don’t judge me,” you grumble.
“M’not. It’s just— 3 years of completely nothing?”
“God— obviously.” You hide your face in embarrassment. “You are judging me right now.”
“I’m not,” he laughs, taking another sip. “Just a long time to go without having someone take care of you.”
"Well I slept through most of it anyway so I'm fine,” you roll your eyes, annoyed at how he’d even make a joke like that when he knows you can support yourself just fine without anyone’s help.
“You’re awake right now, though.”
“So?” you scoff.
“I can take care of you, if you want,” he offers.
“Not funny,” you murmur, just about ready to kick his ass out.
At first, he’s confused as to why his little offer had you that offended. Then after a minute, it clicks. Since you refuse to look at him, you miss the amused grin on his face after realizing you two are thinking about two entirely separate things in terms of ‘being taken care of’.
You only finally look at him when he gets up from where he’s sitting and there’s a shit eating smirk on his face, making you think he’s just being a dick and leaving.
Then he takes a seat right next to you, leg just barely brushing against yours.
“What are you d—”
“I think you’re a little confused here,” he says a little too calmly, throwing his arm over the backrest and leaning in way too close.
“Listen, I looked forward to hanging up that painting of yours all day, same goes for all the other stuff I’ve helped you out with.” You feel your cheeks start to warm as a result of the low, honeyed tone he’s using on you. “I really like helping you. It makes you a little happier, and with all the assholes I have to deal with everyday, it makes my day a lot better. So, why not just let me do a little more?”
“I don’t— what are you even talking about right now?” Your words come out all nervous and jumbled, failing to stay calm from how close this guy is.
“I’m talking about all the times I’ve caught you looking at my dick print.”
Your eyes widen in horror and he laughs.
“Yeah, you’re not slick,” he tucks some hair behind your ear and leans in closer. “C’mon— you’re not even at work right now and your mind’s still all over the place trying to find stuff to be stressed about. Aren’t you tired?”
Your heart pounds against your chest as you hesitate to answer. “I mean— yeah.”
“Let me fuck you then,” he murmurs, tracing the backs of his fingers down your arm. “You won’t have to think about anything, won’t have to do anything— just gotta take it. Super easy. Sounds fun, huh?”
“I… I don’t know,” you just barely whisper, shifting in your seat from all the nerves, looking like a deer in headlights.
“I think you do know.” He continues to toy with you as he waits for you to say anything else. Surprise: you never do.
“I’ll stop if you tell me to.”
You look like you’re about to have a panic attack and it’s adorable. “Stop what?”
“This.” He smiles, pressing a soft kiss right under your ear, humming against your skin, not missing the way it makes your breath hitch. Then he presses another one on your jaw, then another, getting closer to your lips and pulling back right before he does, meeting your glazed over, half lidded eyes.
He snakes a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you in, making your lips meet his. The first kiss is slow and gentle, letting you warm up to it. You put your legs down trying to get closer, not expecting for it to grow more heated, too.
An arm wraps around your waist and you're being pulled in to straddle his lap. His big hands roam around your hips and ass as you start to full on make out, grinding you down against something long and hard until you’re desperately panting against each other.
He gives your ass one last squeeze before finding the bottom of your shirt and pulling it up over your head, rushing to unclip your bra and tossing it in whichever direction the shirt went. A soft gasp slips through your lips once you feel the wet heat of his pierced tongue drag a slow stripe over your nipple, not thinking much about the way Sukuna smiled at you afterwards.
You should’ve braced yourself for the level of greed you were about to experience.
Many minutes later, your tits are covered in spit and you’re failing to bite back moans out of self preservation.
And it’s fucking hard.
Sukuna’s groaning and dragging a heavy tongue over each nipple 1, 2, 3, 4 times before wrapping his lips around them and starts sucking. He goes back and forth between each, pulling away with a wet, lewd pop before moving on to the next. At first, he’d replace his mouth with his fingers— rubbing, rolling, and pinching on the sensitive bud so it’s not completely neglected while he works on the other one.
They’re now firmly planted on your hips, because apparently he needs the extra friction. So now your shorts are soaked through and you’re trying not to cum as he continues to push you down back and forth against his cock.
Your fingers are digging into his shoulders, the moans you’re struggling to bite back come out as whines and the one thing that actually pulls one out of you is when Sukuna’s palm cracks down on your ass.
“Come here.”
He pulls you in by the back of your neck and swallows all the little sounds you try not to make with a kiss messier than the last.
The air's hot and heavy once he breaks it. A small string of saliva hangs on and then breaks as you pull away, already looking like a mess while trying to catch your breath.
“Bed?”
“Yeah,” you nod, sounding more desperate.
“Thought so,” he stifles out a laugh as he suddenly gets up, easily taking you with him as he makes the short walk to your bedroom.
He sets you down on the mattress before pulling his shirt over his head. The buckle of his belt lightly clinks as he undoes it to take his pants off, leaving just his boxers on that leave little room for imagination. He leans forward, hooking his fingers over the waistband of your soaked fucking shorts, taking them off along with your panties in one go.
You don’t even get the opportunity to be shy around Sukuna because he's immediately grabbing the backs of your thighs and letting out a low whistle while pulling them apart to get a good look at how wet you already are.
“Shit— look at you,” he groans.
Without warning, he dips his head down in between your thighs, and he licks a long, fat stripe up your slit, not missing the extra friction from the metal ball on his tongue. There’s a shit eating smirk on his face when his head comes up, teasing you as he pushes you back further up the bed to make more room for himself.
“Told you this was fun.”
“Shut up.” You giggle as you watch him get settled back in between your thighs, only for it to die out once he dips his head back down.
He draws a long sigh out of you once he starts to slowly lap at your sensitive clit. He goes at an unhurried pace, just barely using any pressure and you’re sure he’s just doing it to fuck with you. With the way you are right now, the lazily licks are fucking torture, making you squirm around while you clench around nothing.
The more you move, the tighter his grip around the back of your thighs gets, until you find yourself pinned in place as he finally starts to pick up the pace, adding more pressure until that metal ball starts swiping across your clit like you need it to. You focus on it, until it gets ripped away once you finally feel his tongue press flat against your hole and begins dragging heavy stripes up to your clit.
Your breathing grows sharp and uneven, hand moving down to his head, locking strands of hair in between your fingers as drawn out moans start spilling past your lips. He goes from pressing his tongue against your entrance to pushing past it, dipping further and further until deciding to just stay there and fuck you with it.
The shallow thrusts have you squeezing and clenching, back arching off the bed, desperate for more. You nearly let out a pathetic cry when he pulls away, but then he fills the empty space right back up with not one, but two of his fingers. They’re long and thick, and he’s curling them in. The pads of his fingers rub right up against that spot inside that has you seeing stars.
Through half-lidded eyes, you watch as he starts to pump them in and out faster, until a light squelch can be heard. “Oh fuuuck.”
“You like my fingers?” he asks with a low, amused hum.
You nod. “Feels so good— oh my god.”
“I bet— look at how fuckin’ soaked they are from you.” He pulls them all the way out for you to see, then stuffs them back in. He starts curling faster, thumb pressing your clit and rubbing little circles until you’re clenching and whining. “Yeahh— that’s it, show me how good that feels.”
He keeps hitting your sweet spot until something in you shifts, making you close your legs out of instinct, only for him to keep them open so he can keep going.
“Oh my god— fuck— wait!” you cry out.
“What’s wrong, baby? Gonna cum?” Instead of letting up, he goes faster, letting the room continue to fill up with the filthy sounds of his fingers scissoring into your cunt, pushing you over the edge until you give him what he wants.
And he gets it quick. You let out a sharp cry as you gush around him, finally cumming after holding it in from earlier.
“Fuuck yeah, there you go,” he rasps, fingers slowing down as he works you through it.
He waits for you to catch your breath before leaning forward and kissing you a couple times, humming with each one.
“Tired or you wanna keep goin’?” he asks.
You’re still trying to catch your breath as you answer. “Yeah, keep going.”
“Atta girl.”
He pushes himself off the bed to take the boxers off and your eyes widen at his cock that’s bigger than you originally thought it’d be. It springs out of his boxers with multiple piercings and precum smeared all over his darkened red tip.
And of course, you stare for longer than you should.
“You alright?” he asks, sounding cocky as hell, and actually having the right to be.
Taking your eyes off feels impossible— 3 rows of barbells on the underside of his shaft right below his tip, and another one on the underside of his tip. It almost feels wrong, he’s already long and thick.
“Yeah— I just— holy shit.”
“I know.” He says with full confidence as he gets back on the bed and situating himself in between your legs. “Gonna be fun watching you take it.”
He grabs the backs of your knees and spreads your legs further apart, getting a better look at how wet you still are, fighting back a smile knowing it’s from him.
He gives his cock a couple pumps, then looks at you, not sure whether you’re excited or nervous. “You ready?”
You look at him, then back down to the absolute monster he has in his hand, then back up at him.
“Mhm.”
He stares at you for a few seconds, then casually shrugs. “Alright.”
You’ll get used to it.
He runs the head of his cock through your slick folds, tapping it over your clit a couple times, making you a bit more nervous after feeling the cold metal ball from his piercing nudging at your entrance.
He pushes in, and you both have the same reaction to how easy it slides in despite how tight of a fit it was. You take in a sharp breath as he starts to sink in, inch by inch, with no resistance, all while feeling an immediate stretch and the added friction from each piercing.
Once he’s halfway through, he slowly starts to rock his hips back and forth and you find yourself having to bite back on a moan, realizing those piercings were also rubbing back and forth against your walls.
“You doin’ okay?” he raises a brow, clearly enjoying the sight.
“You’re so fucking big,” it almost sounds like a complaint.
“I am,” he hums, leaning down and caging you in with his arms. “I’m gonna push the rest in.”
“How much is there left?”
“You’ll be fine.”
He thrusts right in and you're letting out a shattered gasp. At the same time, he’s humming in satisfaction since he got to watch the whole thing.
“Fuckin’ tight,” he murmurs, giving you a moment to get used to how stuffed you are, stealing a few kisses while he’s at it since he’s not entirely an asshole. “Remember what I said, all you gotta do is take it.”
You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s pulling out all the way and sliding back in, working up a pace as he stuffs you over and over again, dragging those small metal balls right over the spot that made your toes curl.
It still took you a little bit of time getting used to him though, all words dying at your throat once he started to actually fuck you like it was nothing. Feeling betrayed by your body for letting him stretch you so easily like this.
Each drive of his cock has you moaning and gasping, making you cover your mouth trying to hold them in— something he did not like since he pushed your hand away.
Then without warning, he shoves two fingers in your mouth.
“Mmmh— you look good with my fingers shoved in your mouth like this. Now suck.”
You do as he says, swirling your tongue around his digit a few times before he presses them down it, making you softly moan as you sucked on them. He pulls them out with a wet pop and starts muttering in your ear.
“Don’t cover that pretty little mouth again, alright?”
Thrust.
“Fuck— okay,” you whine back.
“Good girl.” He gives you another rough thrust, pulling another choked noise out of you. “Don’t try to hold out on me thinkin’ snot and tears are gonna turn me off, cry on it if you have to. I like it ugly.”
At first you wanted to cry from how fucking mean that was, only to realize that urge to cry may have just been from that one spot he wouldn’t stop hitting, which eventually stopped being overwhelming once you finally get used to him.
“See? That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” he asks, though it was more of a condescending remark rather than a question. “Bet this feels good now, huh?”
“It’s been a while,” you say in an attempt to defend yourself.
“Yeah, no kidding— pussy’s fuckin’ tight,” he says all smug, getting harder at just the thought. “Feels good like this.”
He brings your legs together and throws them over his broad shoulders. Moans start to spill out of your mouth the moment he starts hitting at an angle that manages to hit your clit too. His hips crack against your ass as he picks up the pace, slick spreading past your thighs as he pounds down deeper, bed steadily rocking from all the force behind each thrust.
“Shit— look at how much of a mess you made,” he groans once the wet squelch between you becomes unavoidably louder. “Did you squirt or somethin’? You’re fuckin’ soaked.”
“No. I don’t— nghh— who cares, just keep going.”
He looks at you in amusement, keeping the same pace as he pushes further back against your legs to go deeper, making you nearly squeal. “Is this what’s got you lying about squirting?”
“I didn’t squirt,” you say with an airy laugh. “Fuuck— just feels good.”
“Right,” he mutters slowly as he pushes back against you even more, slowing down until he’s just grinding against you. “What about this?”
It’s a full blown mating press at this point.
“Mhm— yeahh.” Your lips curl into a small smile. “Better, actually.”
“Good,” he hums.
He leans down to press his lips against yours while slowly picking up the pace again, soaking up all the sighs and soft moans he pulls out of you from the deep strokes of his cock, letting the base of it rub against your clit while his tip mushes against that special little spot inside.
The slow, lazy kisses go on for as long as they can, and for you, it’s when your teeth threaten to clash against each other each time his hips snap against you. By then, Sukuna’s going harder. He pulls all the way back, then drives back in— the force behind each thrust growing greater than the last.
“F-fuck— Kuna, that’s—”
“What? Too much?”
“No, no— keep going,” you damn near start pleading with him, feeling a little bit of pressure start build. “Don’t stop— please, I think I’m gonna—“
Your cunt stretches helplessly around him, feeling every inch and vein he stuffs into you over and over again as he fucks you with reckless abandon. The sight’s nothing but obscene as he fills the room with the sounds of him pounding you senseless.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, honeyed and condescending. “Can’t take it?”
“I don’t– fuck– I don’t know.” Your words are cut off by sharp sudden gasps, feeling something unfamiliar build up. It’s not until he gives you one particularly rough thrust when tears start streaming down your cheeks.
“You poor thing.” If you hadn’t known any better, he sounded quite pleased with himself. He leans down to lick a fresh tear streaming down your cheek before going back to business. “Look at you, getting fucked so good that it’s making you cry. You’re probably close, aren’t ya?”
You take in a sharp breath, wondering how bad it would be if you did. You already thought you came. Instead, Sukuna’s right and he’s letting one of your legs back down, leaning in close and cradling your head while he continues to absolutely ruin you.
“Cum for me,” he murmurs. His fingers trail down to your clit and starts rubbing over it with just the perfect amount of pressure, making clenching like fucking crazy. “Thaaat’s it— c’mon. Give it to me.”
He drags his heavy cock all the way out with a wet schlick, then slams back in— again and again and again— pushing you over the edge until your nails are digging into his back and you’re breaking out into a cry.
You’re gushing around his cock and he keeps drilling into you like he’s trying to work as much as he can out of you— just powering through it. This is the hardest you’ve ever cum in your life, you’re fucking sobbing and he’s just encouraging it with the way he licks a stripe up your cheek, groaning about how fucking hot you look crying on his cock.
“Oh my g-god— I-I can’t— ffuck it’s too much—” your nails start to claw down his back as he drives you into overstimulation.
“I know— I’m so fuckin’ close,” he husks out, and you can tell he’s not entirely all here anymore. “Shhiittt almost there— keep squeezing me like that, baby— yeahh just like that,” his hips desperately slam into you, deep groans start to rumble out of his chest as he chases his own relief. “Fuck— ffuuck.”
He lets out the most drawn out guttural groan once it hits him. He slams in, burying his cock deep inside of you and flooding your walls with so much cum that it starts to spill out while he grinds every last drop of it out.
He pulls out but keeps you caged in underneath you, pressing lazy kisses against your lips with short uneven breaths in between, skin damp and glistening from sweat. It takes a moment to come back to reality, and for someone that doesn’t even know where to start, you’re surprisingly comfortable with the silence between you.
It eventually ends, though. You’re the first to break it.
“Did you still want me to go out on those dates you were talking about?”
Immediately he lets out a breathy laugh. “If you don’t mind me trying to fight them, then sure.”
. . . . . .
Six Months Later
You walk step inside Sukuna’s office, giddier than usual with the small pink cake you bought after handing in your resignation letter to Yaga. His feet are kicked up on the cherry oak wood desk and you doubt he’s doing anything work related. But he’s the boss, who’s going to yell at him? He does sit up straight once he sees you, though, ready to hear the news.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to hear it right away since you just had to look at the wall shelves and catch sight of something that wiped the smile off your face.
“Why is Yuji’s face crossed off in that photo?”
He rolls his eyes, “don’t worry, it’s whiteboard marker.”
“But why would you do that?” you continue to interrogate Sukuna, because unlucky for him, you two are the best of friends now.
Jin visited him earlier today and brought Yuji along. He started off the visit strong by pointing to Sukuna and asking his father ‘Does Uncle have a reezding hairline, too?’ and eventually took a look at the protein snacks he had in the corner, which made him look Sukuna up and down, and go “you eat too much.”
Sukuna rubs his temple as he grows annoyed again. “He called me fat and bald, so I told him we weren’t family anymore and crossed his face out to prove it.”
Despite the words that come out of Yuji’s mouth, the kid loves him in all of his grumpiness.
“So you made him cry?”
Yuji cried so hard that started dry heaving and nearly threw up. “No,” he grimaces. “He just pouted and said sorry.”
You look at him rather suspiciously as you grab a couple forks from his little snack station in the corner, but let it go this time.
He takes your silence as an opportunity to change the subject completely. “How’d your boss take the news?”
“Oh my god, he was distraught,” you reveal, still surprised over how panicked he looked when you turned in your resignation letter.
He waves a dismissive hand, believing it’s the least he deserved for not trying to meet you halfway when trying to cut some of your hours down and refusing to demote you.
“You’ll forget all about it after sleeping in tomorrow,” he reassures you before taking his first bite of cake.
“Yeah— I,” you give a nervous laugh, “okay, so about that.”
He stops chewing and just stares at you.
“I’m gonna stay with them.”
“What?” he almost snaps. “We’re going on vacation in a few weeks. I— what the fuck? What did you get a fuckin’ cake for then?!”
“We’re still going! He’s giving me that time off.”
“How charitable of him.” He snorts out a bitter laugh, then goes back to be mad. “I thought you hated that fuckin’ place?!”
“I did! But he offered to shorten my hours and said I could work from home.”
That piece of information does nothing for Sukuna, who is grumbling profanities under his breath, acting like he’s the one being forced to stay there. His words start going in one ear and out the other after telling yourself he’ll get it eventually, and take a bite out of the victory cake since you also got a small raise, despite the decrease in hours.
“Are you listening?”
“What?” you look up and ask, still chewing on the food.
“Tch– nothing.” Sukuna takes his aggression out on the cake by stabbing the damn thing when getting more. “He shoulda’ given you all that before you tried to quit if you were that important. Hell— he shouldn’t have dumped all that work on you in the first place.”
“He’s a greedy old man that’s hungry for money,” you remind him. “What else would you expect from him?”
Sukuna’s delusional and does this thing where he just assumes the world sees you the same way he does, and then when it doesn’t, he gets offended. Last week at the grocery store, someone reached for the produce in front of you and he snapped at them for not saying excuse me. Then he snapped at them again for not having any patience, given how you would’ve eventually moved.
“Whatever,” he gets up from his seat to grab a water from the mini-fridge and takes a sip, but before sitting back down, he stops next to you and gets at eye level. “If Mr. Crabs calls you while we’re gone, I’m ripping that phone out of your hand and cussing him the fuck out, you hear me?”
You suppress a laugh. “Loud and clear.”
“Good,” he says, stealing a quick kiss from you. “Proud of you.”
The sincerity in his tone pulls a smile out of you. “Thanks.”
He glances at the door, notices it’s locked, then places a hand on your thigh when the sudden realization that there was no one that could fire him hits him.
He gives it a squeeze. You already know what he’s thinking.
when plug!choso starts crushing on his only customer that only uses it medicinally.
tags: modern/college au, plug!choso, nerdy!reader, fem!reader, mention of weed consumption (duh), readers marajuana use is medicinal (for sleep), def a bit ooc my bad chat, i did my best to implement the info i got last in part one but please lmk if its still off :>, jealous!choso... heh..., the instagram dm layout is ASS so forgive that, i messed up the header for the last few imessage dms, not proofread, sowwy...
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a/n: im sobbing at the way the last one blew up, THANK YOU GUYS!!! i pushed off part 3 of my longer form written series so p3 of that is coming out next friday, if you guys enjoy my writing pls check that out, its my little passion project between drabbles and stuff, im pretty proud of it even if it hasnt blown up :) but again you guys thank you SO MUCH for all the support, attention, and advice!! ily all, mwah xoxo
also, a little extra shoutout to tsireyaaaaa for being the first person who ever asked to be tagged in my work, and mischivana for the first person ever on my perm tag list!! thank you both so much its an honour <3
'Their bond was greater than anything there ever was. And slowly you were casted aside and left to rot, like a fallen leaf in the autumn air.'
｡°‧ tw: heavy angst/no comfort, suggested child abuse, eating disorders, suicidal themes, reader is in severe depression.
—In which you'll never be forgotten again.
Satoru glances out the window, lost in thought.
The sky is almost too blue today, there’s something oddly gentle about it. Why does everything feel so calm?
Across from him, Suguru sits just as he always does: back straight, composed, quietly flipping through a book as if nothing in the world could ever hurry him.
“what chu’ doin’?”
Suguru can’t help but roll his eyes, pointing towards his book. “Clearly reading dumbass.”
“HEY! don’t bully me..”
Suguru deadpans. “stop screaming”
He snorts. “You’re so boring”
Satoru leans back further, tilting his head just enough to scan the room from behind his glasses.
Everyone’s here. Being normal like they’ve always been. So why does it feel like something’s missing? His gaze flickers towards an empty chair near the window. It doesn’t mean anything. It's just a chair. But still, he frowns.
“…Was someone sitting there before?” he asks, almost absentmindedly.
Suguru doesn’t even look up. “People sit everywhere.”
“Yeah, but…” Satoru stops himself, clicking his tongue. “Never mind.”
It’s stupid. Across the room, Shoko exhales a slow stream of smoke with her gaze drifting. She looks…off. He would even describe it as sad.
“You look like you didn’t sleep.” he calls lazily.
Shoko shrugs. “Do I ever?”
“Fair.”
There’s another pause. God, it’s quiet. He taps his fingers against the desk, once, twice, then stops when the sound doesn’t help.
“…Man, today’s boring,” he mutters.
But it’s not. That’s the problem. It’s too nice.
It feels like this is a day that he’ll remember forever. The breeze grazes his skin softly due to the open window. The wind oddly smells quite..good? His eyes drift back again to that same spot near that same window. The chair is still empty. For a split second, something tugs at him. He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.
“Whatever” he says, louder this time, like he’s brushing something off his shoulder. “I’m starving. Let’s ditch.”
Suguru finally closes his book, now looking at him.
“…Already?”
“Yeah. This place feels weird today.”
He clicks his tongue, but stands anyway.
“Alright.”
He doesn’t ask what Satoru means. That’s simply how he is. As they step out into the sunlight, it hits them violently. The rays of the warm sun were almost blinding. It was perfect. Too perfect. Satoru tilts his head back, staring up at the sky again.
“…Seriously” he mutters, quieter now, “what’s with today?”
The wind brushes past them, soft and fleeting. For a second, it feels like something passes between them. Something familiar. But it’s gone before it can settle.
Satoru pauses mid-step, he frowns, then keeps walking. He doesn’t turn around, he doesn’t realize that there’s no one trailing just a step behind them anymore.
But actually, against all odds, he does.
“Oh—shit.”
The words leaves him in a breath that’s almost a laugh, like he’s just remembered something that is the least of his worries. His hand comes up to the back of his head, his fingers tangling loosely in his hair.
“I forgot.” he chuckled, lighter than it should be. “Shoko, have you seen [name]?”
He says it so easy. Like you’re just around the corner, like he didn’t forget for months that you exist.
The hallway’s warm and there's sun on the floor. It’s the kind of day you’d skip class on. The kind of day you’d drag him to the vending machines. But Shoko stops, her eyes slightly bigger. The cigarette between her fingers burns quietly, a thin line of smoke curling upward, untouched.
Her eyes land on him. “Wait…” she scoffed. “You guys didn’t know?”
Behind him, Suguru shifts. He steps a bit closer, placing a hand on Satoru’s shoulder. A crease between his brows forms.
“What do you mean ?” he asks.
Shoko looks at them both in silent disbelief.
“She killed herself two days ago.”
Suguru blinks. “…What?”
It isn’t really a question, more of a reflex. A fragile sound that slips out before he can stop it, already chipping at the edges.
He doesn’t move. His eyes stay fixed on Shoko’s, searching for the smallest cracks in her expression. Maybe a hesitation, a sign she misspoke.
“Yeah.” she says quietly, like the words themselves are heavy in her mouth. “She overdosed… They found her in the water.”
He waits for the correction that should follow. For her to shake her head, to sigh, to say she got it wrong, that it was just a really bad joke. But the silence stretches, thin and unbearable.
But the thought that maybe she wasn’t joking doesn’t come slowly. No. It seeps in, cold and invasive, filling the space inside his chest. He feels it press against his ribs, heavy and suffocating.
Only his eyes give him away, they’re widening just slightly. Like they’re waiting for you.
Across from him, Satoru thinks he didn’t hear her right. He replays it in his head like a shattered song. But it doesn’t form anything real, he can’t find an answer. Because you can’t be dead.
The hallway is still there, but it feels distant now, like it’s been pushed far away. The light is too bright, too warm. The world hasn’t changed, and that feels wrong—devestating even.
“You—” he gasps, spikes tearing his throat. “You’re kidding, right?”
Satoru doesn’t stutter. He never has. But he’s stuttering now.
There’s a smile on his face and he doesn’t really know why. Some stupid part of his brain is still trying to make it a joke. Like if he smiles, she’ll roll her eyes and call him an stupid dude like she always does.
But amongst all the pain in his heart, he can’t help but wonder why it’s hurting this much.
Shoko just looks at the two wrecked boys in front of her.
For a second disbelief flashes across her face. At the cruelty of it. At how perfectly it proves everything you ever thought. It brings a taste in her mouth even stronger than the tobacco sitting in her lungs. The rotting taste of irony.
“You should really go to her room.” She breathes.
Her gaze shifts between them, lingering just a fraction longer than usual.
“There’s a note for both of you.”
The cigarette between her fingers has burned low now, the ash threatening to fall. She glances at it briefly, like she forgot it was even there.
“…I’ve already read mine.”
No one says anything after that. Because there’s nothing left to say. The silence isn’t empty. It’s full of you.
It’s too late. It’s been too late.
And the sky is still fucking blue.
The walk to the dormitories is quiet. A silence so stuffy, it fills their lungs like wet cotton. It’s a silence filled with unspoken words and heavy feelings. The sun hangs high, shameless and gold, spilling across the hallway.
The shadow of your closed door stretches long across the floor, a dark tongue swallowing the light. Suguru’s hand hovers at the knob. His breath frays, his head keeps shouting at him to turn back. But he pushes through. The door gives without protest, a strangeled creak echoing.
The air itself feels wrong. It’s sour and heavy, like the windows haven’t been opened in days, or maybe even longer. Dust hangs suspended in the air, sadness infiltrates through the cracks in the floor. It coats the walls in a thick film, it clings to the ceiling fan. Then settles into the grooves of the floorboards until the wood rots. The scent is truly horrible, he can’t help but cringe. It smells of misery and copper, desperately braided into something that lives in the back of the throat.
Like the windows haven’t been opened in days—or maybe longer. A gag wrenches out of Satoru's mouth. The mirror lies gutted on the floor, a constellation of violence. Blood darkens the shards, and dust has already claimed them as its own. Alcohol bottles—glass, plastic, anything that once promised numbness and calm are strewn across the floor in a glum manner . Some still stand, sentinels of empty vigils. Others are broken open, their bitter liquor oozing across the floorboards in sticky, amber rivers. There are too many to count. The floor has disappeared beneath the debris of trying not to feel.
Suguru’s sharp inhale cuts the air, his throat feels on fire. How can someone live like that?
On your bed, the blankets are a shipwreck. Twisted, half on the floor, maroon dried into the fabric where red used to be. The smell is metallic, old, like pennies. It climbs into Suguru’s sinuses and stays lodged. Pills scatter across the floor like maggots. Tissues, crumpled and used, dot the room like failed prayers. Every surface is a testament to hours that folded in on themselves.
The room doesn’t look lived in. It’s abandoned, nothing is where it should be. As if every object was used, then dropped the moment it stopped serving a purpose. grime has settled over everything in uneven layers. It clings to the desk, the shelves, the edges of the bedframe.
Even the light feels tired. It seeps through half-closed curtains in weak, uneven strips, catching in the dust and turning the air into something visible. Something you can touch.
With an intake of breath, Suguru starts searching for the note. Fortunately for him, it isn’t hard to miss. An envelope sits on your desk, untouched by the soot of the world.
Suguru’s body moves before his mind agrees to it, drawn to that terrible piece of paper. His hand shakes with the restraint of someone who is scared to learn more. Each tremor in his fingers is an apology he’s choking on. The ventilator hums in the wall, a sinister lullaby keeping time with his pulse.
Seeing his friend moving, Satoru takes one step too. It’s reluctant, like the floor might open if he really commits to it. Something catches his eye on the envelope. There’s two kittens, drawn in precise lines. But it’s not the skill of the drawing that makes his belly curl in an uncomfortable manner. It’s their colors.
One white.
One black.
A rendered drawing of them in graphite from whatever was left of you.
The ache behind Satoru’s eyes is physical now, a tide pressing outward, and it takes every muscle in his face, every year of being the strongest, not to let it break. His jaw locks. His hands curl until nails bite crescent moons into his palms.
A pounding ache blooms and spreads, rooting down his spine. The ventilator keeps humming. Suguru picks up the note simply because someone has to. The paper is the only thing in this mess that really feels like you. He opens it carefully, as if it might bruise.
His body immediately starts trembling at the sight of your handwriting. His hand shakes, the hum of the ventilator resonates in his ears like a sinister lullaby. His eyes are wide in fear. Behind him, Satoru finally breaks. A sob gurgles from deep in his heart.
With a shaky exhale, he starts reading. Immediately, the first words written shatter the base of his skull like a meteor. His hand claps against his mouth and he starts to tremble.
For the first time, he too cries.
My dear Satoru and Suguru.
There’s too much to say.. And somehow, none of it ever comes out right. I keep rewriting this over and over.. I feel like an idiot because I can't even write a proper goodbye.
I was going to say that I’ve felt useless lately, but really that would be a lie. It hasn’t been lately. I don’t think I’ve ever really been happy. I mean, can you blame me? I never had love in my life. My whole family loathed me because I wasn’t strong. Pretty stupid reason to beat a child if you ask me though..
I didn’t really know what love was supposed to feel like, not until I met you. Very corny I know.
But really, out of everything my life could have given me, it chose you two. The loudest, brightest, most impossible people to stand beside. And yes, as cliché as it sounds, I stupidly fell in love with both of you.
I don’t even think you noticed. I mean, why would you? I was just the girl who arrived halfway through the year. Just someone weak and forgettable.
But even then… we had something. At least, I think we did? Even if it was small, I really held onto it like it was everything.
I still remember things I probably shouldn’t.
Like...Nanami trying to help me with math one time and I couldn’t focus at all, because I kept staring at his hair and thinking how ridiculous it looked under the light.
Or being dragged into playing wingman for Haibara and his hopeless crush… I was standing outside that little café for hours, trying to gather information on her like a secret spy.
I remember Shoko laughing, like, really laughing, after blowing smoke right into my face. I remember how I choked on it while she just kept giggling like it was the funniest thing in the world.
I remember you, Satoru… buying me sweets that one time I failed a mission. It probably was nothing to you. But for a second, I thought maybe you saw me.
And Suguru… skipping class with you, sitting side by side in the library, not speaking, just turning pages in the same silence. It felt… peaceful. Like I was allowed to exist for a little while.
Those moments were so small, so ordinary. But to me, they were everything. I think that’s why it hurts so much now. Because I don’t even know if any of it was real to you.
Unfortunately, I think I started disappearing long before anyone noticed. Like I was being erased from the edges of everyone’s minds, piece by piece, little by little, until there was nothing left worth remembering. And the worst part is that I knew. I knew, and I still stayed. I still waited for someone to look at me like I was real. It makes me feel so stupid now, writing this. Like I was asking for something I was never meant to have.
I think, deep down, I always understood that I was never meant to be important. Not in the way you both are. Not in the way the world bends itself around you. But I wanted it anyway. I wanted kindness. Just once. And I hate that I have to admit this, even now, but you—Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto… you made me feel so small.
You made me feel small because of everything you didn’t see.
I think that’s when it finally sank in. That I really didn’t belong. At first, I didn’t realize how far in the sea I was.. How deep I was in it. I just kept going. I purposefully took on missions that were too much. Missions that possibly could kill me.
Because if I died out there…At least I would be remembered as someone brave. Not as the girl who loved far too much and received too little.
I really thought I could outrun that version of me. But she always came back. She came back every time with alcohol bottles and bloodied tissues. And in the end…I couldn’t fight her anymore.
Because obviously if you are reading this, it means I didn’t go down fighting. I took the cowardly way out.
I’ve been thinking about death for longer than I want to admit. It's like a thought that kept coming back, until it stopped feeling like a question and started feeling like an answer. I kept wondering what it would be like to disappear completely. To leave without leaving anything behind. And every time doubt tried to creep in, that maybe I shouldn’t do it. I reminded myself of the same thing: There really isn’t a future for me here.
Because nobody cares.
And I know how cruel that sounds, but it’s true. It’s true in the quietest, most undeniable way.
And you noticed.. Of course you did. Everyone did. Not enough to understand what was going on, but enough to see that something was wrong.
Shoko noticed when I started asking her for cigarettes, even though I used to whine about how bad it was for her. And you, Gojo… You noticed how I kept excusing myself after meals and how I looked less like myself each time.
You saw it. Both of you did. And that’s how I knew nobody cared. Because if you had cared… you would have said something. You would have asked. It wouldn’t have taken much, a simple “Are you okay?”
If even one of you had stopped me, if you had asked why I was still wearing my winter uniform in the middle of summer, maybe I would still be here. Maybe I wouldn’t have sunk so far.
Because I wasn’t trying to disappear at first. I was trying to be found.
But I got tired of waiting. And eventually, the waiting turned into something else.
Something colder, like standing in the ocean, letting the water rise inch by inch, convincing yourself you can still breathe. Until you can’t.
I was so desperate for something gentle, something kind, that when it didn’t come…I accepted it.
One day, when life will be even more beautiful now that I’m gone, when the sun feels warm against your skin and your toes curl into the hot grains of sand.
I hope, just for a second, you think of me.
When the waves crash a little too loudly against the shore. Or when the wind flips through the pages of a book you weren’t done reading. i’ll be there. In small ways.
I never really was seen when I was alive. But maybe like this I will be.
At the start I was so happy that satoru finally remembered her and then shoko dropped the bomb. I’m kind of mad at everyone who just ignored or dismissed the small changes.
I’m sad that it had to end like this but I hope the afterlife treats her better than everyone ever could
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Hi I love you because there are not a lot of people who write for Far Cry❤️❤️❤️so I wanted to request what the kinks of Vass, Pagan and the seed family be.
(If I’m correct you wanted to start doing NSFW but if I’m wrong you can just ignore this🫶)
𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗙𝗮𝗿 𝗖𝗿𝘆 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀…
⤷ Pagan Min, Vaas Montenegro, Joseph Seed, John Seed, Jacob Seed, Faith Seed.
warnings: These headcanons contain very explicit, dark, and intense adult sexual content but all consensual. Reader discretion is strongly advised. These are dark, unhinged, and very explicit kink headcanons. If any of the above topics are triggering for you, please skip or stop reading.
notes: thank you anon for this request, I did want to get into nsfw stuff!
Pagan Min
He adores dressing you up in expensive silk and gold before ruining it, tearing designer lingerie off your body while whispering how perfect you look when you’re ruined for anyone else.
Power play is everything. He’ll make you kneel in his throne room, crown on his head, forcing you to call him 'my king' while he fucks your throat and strokes your hair like a treasured pet.
Pain mixed with praise: sharp bites on your inner thighs, nails dragging down your back, then soft kisses over the marks while he tells you how beautifully you bleed for him.
Exhibitionism. He loves fucking you on the balcony overlooking his compound, knowing his guards can hear every moan but never see you, because you’re only for his eyes.
Aftercare is lavish and possessive: bubble baths, feeding you by hand, and making you sleep with his cock still inside you so you never forget who you belong to.
Vaas Montenegro
Primal, rough, and unhinged. He’ll chase you through the jungle at night, tackle you into the dirt, and fuck you like an animal while growling “You’re fucking crazy for running from me, baby.”
Knife play is a favorite. He traces the flat of his blade along your skin, never cutting deep but leaving pretty red lines he licks afterward while laughing that low, manic laugh.
Choking and breath play until your vision blurs, then he’ll slap your face lightly and demand you look at him while he ruins you.
Degradation mixed with twisted affection: “You’re my little puta, my crazy bitch, only wet for me, right?” while pounding you against a tree.
He gets off on marking you visibly—bites on your neck, bruises on your hips—so everyone on the island knows exactly who you belong to.
Joseph Seed
Total control and worship kink. He wants you on your knees in the church, naked and praying to him while he recites scripture and slides his cock between your lips.
Breeding obsession. He’ll keep you full of his cum for days, hand on your belly, whispering how you’ll carry his children and help build Eden.
Sensory deprivation and teasing. Blindfolds, ropes, edging you for hours until you’re crying and begging for the Father’s 'blessing.'
Religious dirty talk: calling you his 'holy vessel,' his 'sinful lamb,' while he fucks you slow and deep on the altar.
After intense sessions he becomes incredibly tender, bathing you, feeding you, and holding you while murmuring how pure you are when you submit.
John Seed
Branding and marking kink. He wants his name or “YES” tattooed/carved on your skin and kisses it every time he fucks you.
Bondage and restraint. Silk ties, leather cuffs, or his own belt, anything that leaves you completely helpless while he edges you until you’re sobbing.
Orgasm control. He decides when you come, sometimes making you count out loud or beg in specific ways. “Say you’re mine, say it like you mean it”.
Mirror sex. He forces you to watch yourself get fucked, gripping your jaw and making you describe how you look when you fall apart for him.
Possessive aftercare: tracing his marks on your body, whispering “No one else will ever have you like this. You’re mine. Say it.”
Jacob Seed
Predator/prey and strength kink. He loves hunting you down, pinning you with one arm, and using his size to completely overpower you.
CNC (consensual non-consent) and rough manhandling. Growling “Fight me, little wolf” while he fucks you into the dirt or against a cabin wall.
Collar and leash. He’ll put a sturdy leather collar on you during 'training' sessions and tug you exactly where he wants you.
Primal marking: deep bites, handprints on your ass, cum dripping down your thighs so you smell like him for days.
Quiet, intense dominance. He doesn’t talk much, just commands with actions—hair pulling, throat holding, making you ride him until your legs shake.
Faith Seed
Sensual, drugged bliss kink. She’ll have you high on Bliss while she teases you for hours with her mouth and fingers, making everything feel like floating pleasure.
Body worship and strap-on play. She loves making you worship her body before fucking you senseless with a pretty pink strap, cooing about how pretty you look taking her.
Light bondage with silk ribbons and flower crowns, tying you spread open in the fields while she rides your face.
Praise and corruption. Constant soft praise—“Such a good girl for me,” “Look how wet you get for your Faith”—while she pushes your limits.
Intimate overstimulation. She’ll keep making you come until you’re shaking and crying, then cuddle you in her lap, stroking your hair and feeding you fruit while you float in subspace.
(reader is eren’s sister (yes i said what i said) frat!satoru and nerd!gojo doing what they do best—being insufferable brothers, jealousy, tension, and questionable choices)
You can’t avoid him—not when he’s everywhere. In your space… on your couch… and even in your mind.
Your ex—Satoru—plus your brother’s friend.
Their friendship stayed after your breakup for some reason you don’t understand why.
So you could only grumble when your brother dragged you to one of the frat parties, saying you needed to loosen up and get your head out of your books.
“Eren, you know I’ve my midterm—”
Eren just rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, smiling like he already won the argument.
“Come on, sis… you never complain before. Why… is it because of—”
“Don’t you dare—”
You pinched his arm quickly.
He chuckled, raising both hands in surrender.
“Okay, okay, I’ll shut up. But seriously, you need to stop hating him so much. I’m worried you might crack his head open the moment you see him.”
You looked away, feeling that familiar ache tighten in your chest.
“Stop hating him? After everything he did and said to me?”
Eren pressed his lips together. He knows something you don’t—but he doesn’t say it. Instead, he just pats your shoulder, gentler this time, before pulling you along with him.
“Enough about him… tonight is about enjoying yourself, hmm? And I don’t want my baby sister sulking on her own—I won’t allow it.”
You smiled a little.
But it didn’t quite reach your eyes.
𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃
You stepped in with your brother. The party inside was loud, music vibrating through your whole body.
“You gonna be alright?” Eren asked, like the protective brother he is.
“Of course.”
You smiled at him as he ruffled your hair.
“Stop it, you’re messing with my curls,” you shot him a glare, which only made Eren laugh harder in return.
“Okay, okay. Have fun,” he said over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.
Shoko’s eyes lit up the moment she saw you.
“Oh my God, look who’s here… are we dreaming?”
She pulled you into a tight, squeezing hug.
You chuckled.
“Shoko—” you laughed softly, returning her hug.
Nobara followed right after.
“Good to see you getting out of your turtle shell… and look, you’re glowing.”
She eyed your outfit—black skirt paired with a tank top with lace detailing underneath.
Your cheeks flushed slightly.
“Someone’s gonna regret… dumping you,” she added under her breath, looking in the opposite direction across the room.
“What? I’m just stating facts. That arsehole doesn’t deserve her.”
Nobara said it in a non-apologetic tone, sipping her drink from a red cup.
Shoko just chuckled and handed you a drink.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough. We’re here to enjoy the party… let’s dance, shall we?”
The four of you navigated through the crowd, drawn to the pulsating energy of the dance floor, where bodies moved in sync.
Shoko and Nobara were already immersed in their groove, completely absorbed in the moment.
You made the mistake of glancing beside your brother, only to find blue eyes locked onto yours – your breath caught in your throat as you took a moment to admire Satoru, who leaned casually against the wall, sipping his drink like he owned the room. His white top clung to his lean physique, jeans hanging low to reveal the contours of his defined torso and the waistband of his boxers – and that ridiculous red cap perched like a crown atop his fluffy white hair, the very same you remember running your fingers through – your stomach fluttered at the memory.
Just then, Mei Mei appeared out of nowhere and pressed her red lips against his cheek, causing you to quickly look away—there's no point in dwelling on what has already slipped away. You raised your cup to your lips, only to find it empty—you definitely need a drink now.
𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃
You make your way into the kitchen, barely paying attention—until you collide straight into someone.
“—oh my god, I’m so sorry—”
The apology slips out quickly as you look up—
And freeze.
For a second, your brain refuses to catch up with what you’re seeing.
Satoru.
No—
not Satoru.
His twin brother.
Gojo.
“It’s okay… I was the one too lost in my book.”
His voice is calm, almost absent-minded—but the smile he gives you is anything but.
It’s soft. Easy.
And for a second, it makes him look a little too much like—
No.
You force the thought away. Get a grip.
You manage a small smile back, straightening up as you smooth down your hair.
“Drink?” he asks.
“Huh—oh. Yes. Yeah, a drink.”
He nods and hands you one without hesitation.
His fingers brush yours—brief, but noticeable.
Then he takes a slow sip of his own, watching you over the rim of the glass.
“Sooo… what are you doing here?” you asked, munching on the chips in front of you. “Reading a book at a place like this?.I thought you hated parties.”
“Well… gotta keep my eyes on my brother.”
You frowned slightly, giving him a confused look—as if Satoru wasn’t more than capable of taking care of himself.
“Why do you need to?” you couldn’t help but ask.
Gojo just smirked faintly. “Let’s just say… he gives me plenty of reasons to keep an eye on him.”
You wanted to ask further, but you held yourself back—for now.
Gojo’s gaze flicked past you, then he smirked when he spotted Satoru heading toward the kitchen.
Before you could process it, his hand slid to your waist, pulling you in as his lips crashed against yours.
Your whole body froze, eyes widening in shock. You tried to pull back, but his grip only tightened, holding you firmly against him.
"Gojo—what—mm—are you—”
Your fingers grip the front of his shirt, trying to steady yourself.
“He’s watching,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear. “And don’t you want help getting your revenge back at my brother?”
Your eyes squeeze shut.
Maybe he’s right.
One part of you whispers that you’ll regret this.
The other… the other is louder.
Just kiss him back.
And you listen to that voice.
Your arms slide around Gojo’s neck as you pull him closer, kissing him back without hesitation.
You feel it then—
the faint curve of his lips.
He’s smiling into the kiss.
Satoru watched from the kitchen doorway, his jaw clenched, the red cup gripped tightly in his hand, crumpled under his grip.
His eyes met his brother’s.
Gojo smirked at Satoru… a silent brotherly rivalry passing between them.
With one glance at you, Satoru turned around and left silently.
Something toppled over as he walked out—a sharp sound cutting through the quiet.
He didn’t even bother to turn around and check.
𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃
To be continued....
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
AN: i genuinely don’t know what’s going to happen next… my brain just threw this at me and said “write it” 😭 but enjoy—i’ll figure it out somehow.
YESSS GURLLL get your revenge! I don’t know how or why Satoru broke up with us, but I know it was bad. Tbh a bit mad Eren is still so good with Satoru even though Satoru seriously hurt us. Not cool big bro
Gojo is so sweet for helping us, he sure knows that his brother messed up. Omg I love jealous Satoru so much😩 I just love brother rivalry😏
