The Art I KNEW I NEEDED ❤️‍🔥

meet you where the sky meets the earth

to love is to listen to your heart, not your brain. to dream whilst in love, is to make your brain listen to your heart.

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader; former teacher x former student [gojo is six yrs older than reader]; bittersweet fluff; you're so in love w satoru, it shd hurt- but it doesn't because you've grown numb to the ache; one-sided feelings [are they really?]; few mentions of food; gojo calls you 'cookie'; this is way too tender even for me, istg; 1.5k wc

▸ belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna! 😊

▸ the header is from pinterest, the dividers are by @benkeibear, the characters used here aren't mine. pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this. hope y'all enjoy reading this ❤️❤️

the first time you think of marrying gojo, you're only twenty years old.

hardly the age to be dreaming of wedding bells at, right?

yeah, right. that's very, very right— still, your heart is your heart, just how your brain is your brain, the former easily swaying the latter by a few skipped beats— and you find your cheeks growing warm, laughs stumbling past your lips as you place the box of cornflakes into your shopping cart.

gojo sputters from beside you, eyes comically wide behind his shades as they dart from you to the elderly woman before.

you take a second to compose yourself before answering the ask that created this mess in the first place, a polite smile lining your face, "oh, no– not at all, ma'am! we're not married. i'm just an old friend helping him with the groceries, haha."

"oh," that's the only thing the woman says in reaction, kind smile now a tiny frown before it reappears. and she apologises, "i'm sorry, dears. just thought you two to be newlyweds from how giddy and loving you seemed to each other... time i went for an eye check-up, yes?"

"hey, please don't be sorry..." you start to say, but before you can get any further, the woman has already walked away with her shoppping basket.

you fall silent.

the same way the man next to you too has grown quiet, an awkward silence taking up the foot between you both. until you break it with a strained chuckle.

"we were acting giddy and loving to each other, eh?"

"were we?" comes the contemplative question to your comment. you look up to find gojo looking at you, the blue of his eyes weirdly bright in the dim lights of the supermarket as he repeats, "were we, cookie?"

yes. no. you don't really know—

yes, 'cause you know you love him.

not since forever, no, but close enough to it: your once-fascination for the supposed mortal deity of the jujutsu world, the mitochondrion on which the cellular structure of the society banks to survive; that grew into something made of wonder, respect and fondness, as you slowly came to know not only the icon but also the man behind it; that grew into something so profound, nestling deep within your existence– so much so that you feel the earth shifting on its axis everytime he calls you or grins at you or just looks in your direction—

no, 'cause you know you aren't loved back.

not the way you wish to be... not that you blame gojo for that, though!

you know he is way too busy to be thinking of such topics– what with being the strongest sorcerer ever, the head of the one-man gojo clan, the teacher to the first-years at tokyo high, the legal guardian– but in fact, the father figure to the two kids, 'gumi and 'miki– or maybe, just maybe, he is busy, alright, but not too busy— gojo simply doesn't see you that way; he sees you to be nothing but his former student— one he knows he can rely on to help with his children, or the groceries, or a variety of other menial daily tasks he can just hire help for—

you don't know.

yeah... you really, really don't know– and by now, you think you don't even want to know anymore. it's easy, it's safe, it's nice to remain not knowing. the word 'yes' comes with too many dreams– the word 'no' serves the perfect haven to nightmares.

the three words "i don't know" bear no such burden on their back– an untroubled answer you decide to offer, decide to escape using for the time being— until a slight knock on the head interrupts you, followed by an entertained set of chortles.

you peer up to find gojo beaming down at you, his eyes crinkled and cheeks dimpled. something twists in the middle of your chest, but it isn't painful; it's grounding. pleasant, even.

"it's too easy to get you worried, y'know? you're unbelievably easy to manipulate, heh."

"oh, am i now?" you retort, eyes narrowing into a cross glare– only to be betrayed by the fond smile grazing your lips not even a beat later. the man hums, grin simmering down to a knowing smile.

"mmhm," he says with that musical sway to his tone that never fails to make your fingers tingle, "you should have seen your face when i asked you the question– so pale and stiff– almost as if i was asking you to leave then and there, hearing that granny's comments—"

"you would have asked me to, if they were true– wouldn't you?"

gojo's smile vanishes in the blink of an eye. and you think the hand he has stretched out to the shelves of biscuits might fall too– but it does not, and you see him take a packet of your favourite bourbon biscuits followed by a packet of the digestives you've been forcing him to eat, and place them into the cart.

he checks the shopping list in your hand before he looks back at you.

before he smiles back at you: so soft, so solemn, so un-satoru— you instantly regret interrupting him with such a question.

but you do know how it is, don't you? what with a thudding heart and a thinking brain...

the handle of the cart digs deep indents into your palm as you press the weight of your worries into the cool metal and lean towards your companion on this grocery run, the same way a moth flies towards a flame, towards its doom–

"don't you ever dream of falling in love, gojo-san?" you let your voice drop to a murmur, audible only to you and the object of your desires, the subject of your worries, "do you not dream of a happily ever after with your 'one'– do you, gojo-san?"

"no," the response to your words comes in the very same instant. the man's shades slip a touch down the bridge of his nose as he pins his sharp gaze on you– though it can do nothing to hide the mild tremor in his grin from you when he says, "and i don't plan on dreaming ever. dreaming is only for fools with too much time to spare– do i look like a fool with too much time to spare, cookie?"

no. not at all. you don't. you look the farthest from it, in fact— is what you know you should say, and just drop the matter. for now. forever—

but you don't... just don't.

retorting instead, still a murmur but with the faint lick of a fire now, "and what do you suggest should be done to those fools, gojo-san? punished severely for their grievous crime of dreaming, hm?"

"oh, don't be too harsh," he tuts with a breezy chuckle, "what people do is honestly their business; one i've got no interest in interfering in— but..." his grin twists into something wry, a change you find tough to tear your gaze away from, "i don't think i would give such folks the time of my day– it's simply not worth it to talk with those whose feet are not on the solid ground, floating around meaninglessly in air–"

"why are you talking with me then?"

interrupted, gojo blinks. once, and twice, then thrice.

you watch your face crumple in the dark tint of his shades, withering and cracking in the dull light and stale air of this stupid supermarket; but definitely not as stupid as you:

messing things up when they're perfectly fine and alright, only 'cause you do not, rather cannot, keep your mouth shut, no matter what– all your inhibitions let gone of as your heart gains control over your brain and your stupid damned mouth—

you feel a tiny knock on your forehead, the second time this evening, followed by strands of hair being gently brushed away; too careful for your breath to not get stuck in your chest. you peer up at the man in front, teeth lightly gnawing the inside of your lower lip.

gojo's features shift into something between fond and worried– you just hope you aren't misreading him right now– the man tucks those strands of hair behind the shell of your ear.

his fingers still right above your jaw, touching yet not really touching, features finally, finally, settling into a smile– "maybe because i enjoy talking with you, cookie, no matter how foolish you are."

some people say, marriage is a holy act, a sacred institution, in and of itself— connecting hearts, binding souls– cementing the promises of staying together forever... whilst few see marriage to be meaningless— paltry affair of papers and signatures and people, none bearing any significance, 'cause nothing can, not when it comes to the matters of the hearts, neither in proving nor in disproving them–

no matter what people think, you think you will be okay, irrespective of whether you marry gojo or not, irrespective of whether gojo loves you or not– provided– and this is a weird, still important 'provided'—

you and he end up shopping together in the supermarket, feeling and seeming so happy and comfortable with each other— others mistake you for a pair of newlyweds, blissfully deep in love.

tysm to my dearest andy [@andysdrafts], mimi [@avatarofstars] & dilay [@roseqzpd] for constantly motivating me while i was writing this. ilysm my darlings 😘😘😘

masterlist

I LOVE THIS SM 😩😭

has this been done yet

LOVESICK GOJO IS JUST 🥹🤌🏻 love him so much 😭😩

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

. ft. highschool! gojo

. content. fluffity fluff fluff.

. note. he’s such an idiot i love him. tried my best lol.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who is known as the cocky boy who also doesn’t know how to hold his tongue, but when he sees you for the first time— his façade comes crumbling down along with the ounces that are known as his communication skills.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who thinks he has a chance with you because according to him, he’s very much likable and you must be insane if you were to turn him down.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who follows you around school like a sad little puppy that has been abandoned in a dark alley. and you can practically see his tail wagging when you two share small interactions, even though most of them consist of him trying lame pick up lines which results in him almost getting knocked behind the head.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who you convince yourself of that you dislike, despite all the times you spend together. either during classes, lunch, hangouts with shoko and suguru or missions you’re both assigned to. he’s like a solar pannel that has been installed, slowly but rapidly sucking the remaining energy out of you as if you’re the sun.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who likes to make snarky remarks and tease you, not knowing he’s slightly being ignorant towards you as a person and your feelings. so you try to create the most distance possible, leaving him in desperation for your presence.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who embarrassingly begs shoko and suguru to talk to you. he suggests nothing but all ridiculous plans to have you finally come talk to him— and surprisingly it worked. having them to panically call you over and your worried expression quickly turned into one of disappointment. seeing satoru laying on the floor with a hand placed above his heart, whining how bad you’ve hurt him. you can’t deny that you found his dramatics amusing.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who you tell about the way you’ve been feeling regards of the way he acted towards you. his eyebrows raise in realization and he stumbles on his endless words of apologies. if you hadn’t stopped him, he basically would’ve bowed down at your feet for mercy.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who loves being able to touch you; either a lanky arm thrown around you, knees touching when he insisted on taking the seat next to you on the train or his favorite, hugging you. even though it’s only when you seek comfort, he can’t help but be selfish and enjoy these acts of services once in a while.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who is so obvious with his feelings towards you, that it makes you notice the subtle ticklish feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach whenever you hear a simple thing such as the mention of his name. you’ve tried multiple times to push those feelings down, but they seem to rise higher and higher as time goes by.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who has been quiet for a while now, leaving you wondering in concern. you tried to figure it out, but it wasn’t possible when he was avoiding you in all the ways possible. he hasn’t even gossiped with you about the latest celebrity drama, something that formed like a habit between the both of you.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who runs up to you— panting and out of breath while he has his hands placed on his knees. between rushed breaths and a few coughs, he manages to tell you why he has been avoiding you and you laugh at the reason. for someone with a big ego, he sure is a coward when it comes to confessing.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who fails to hide the excitement in his teary blue eyes when you reciprocate your feelings and deciding to give him a chance. but you soon feel a pinch of regret when he ends up telling his friends and even yaga that the two of you are dating. he hasn’t even taken you out on a date yet. but that’s something for you to worry about later when he returns.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who is now the man you’re married to and who hasn’t fully grown out of his idiotic characteristics. but you have come to terms with that fact the moment you decided to give him your all in 2006. trusting his promise back then and till now, when he said that he’d take care of the most precious thing in the world. your heart.

tags ! :: @white-poppie

©𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐀. please refrain from stealing my works !

I WAS SHOCKED, STUNNED, GAGGED BY THIS REVELATION, THIS PLOT TWIST 😩 it was pookie this whole time 🫣 bit sad by gojo ending but the twist was 😳 THIS IS GOING TO MY HOLY GRAIL FICS TF🥹

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 56.5 || The Alternate End

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, angst, & a tinge of fluff.

[ { A/N } ] ➤ This is also the last chapter. Also, please note that you can't read this ending without the official one as they go together. (Here)

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——ANOTHER TWO MONTHS OF peace is what you experience after the burning of the journal. When you went home that day, you found yourself having this bittersweet emotion in your heart for Gojo.

Sure, you’d miss him in some weird twisted way but, at least you were both happy going your separate ways. Truly happy. Seeing as you went out of your way to ask Geto to keep you updated on Gojo’s mental health every now and then, the man didn’t lie when he told you he was happy because, well, he was.

Geto told you how Gojo walks around like a thousand tons of weight have been lifted off of his shoulders and you were beyond relieved to hear that.

As for you, well, you were ecstatic every day because you had a boyfriend who constantly put your mind at ease and a smile on your face. Just as you surprise him from time to time, he reciprocates with gifts every now and then— oftentimes he would purchase roses for you, always purple and always beautifully arranged for you.

He was the best boyfriend you could’ve ever asked for and you can’t imagine yourself ever wishing for anything or anyone more. Nothing could ruin your peace with Choso Kamo.

Or so you thought…

At the end of the day, why would you have feared anything when all the threats to your relationship were gone? Choso knew you’d slept with Sukuna, he knew you’d seen multiple other guys, and he knew you’d fallen for another man at one point so, how could things have come to… this?

With your back quite literally up against the wall, eyes angled fairly upward at a man who’s just told you such incriminating information you’ll never know what to do with, you’ve never been more scared in your life.

Should you have seen this coming? Was there any way for you to prevent this?

This ruins everything. Everything that was once confusing no longer clouded your mind as the words recently spoken to you hung heavily in the air.

Why now? Why is it that you have to experience this now?

You didn’t need to know this. Maybe Gojo was right all along— perhaps it was better you stay in the dark because you don’t want to face this reality.

This meant so much. Everything was a lie. Or, almost everything was a lie? Too many questions would come to you and it felt like you had so little time to find answers because all the answers were there— the dots were all connecting and everything, unfortunately, made sense.

Damn you Gojo Satoru. He truly is the bane of your existence, the headache you could never get rid of and the heartache you didn’t fucking ask for. 

You were happy. You and Choso were happy but now that can’t continue, can it? Not with the information you just received, no.

That bullshit happy ending you thought you earned had crumbled right before your very eyes— all because of one little conversation and one simple sentence.

Damnit Choso, of all gas stations he could’ve stopped at, it had to be here. Here where you run into someone whom you’d rather walk on legos than speak to…

It could go so bad, so very bad. Because why does he know? Why does he choose to tease you about dating Choso? Shit could get ugly all too quickly, all he’d have to do is walk out the door and approach your boyfriend.

But then again, all of this chaos was unexpected. One should probably start from the beginning.

Well, not the actual beginning, that’ll be received another time. Instead, the beginning of this cursed interaction.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

It was summertime-, the month of June to be specific. You and Choso have been dating for a total of four lovely months.

The moment summer kicked off, you and Choso were with each other twenty-four-seven, a completely inseparable pair.

And it’s with this boyfriend of yours that you planned to go on a little road trip with for roughly a week. It was supposed to be this cute thing that you guys did to start your summer off.

He’d saved up some money and so had you, especially after you’d long since finally gotten that paid internship of yours-, which was heavenly by the way. The pay was better than the average job and all you had to do was be this cute campus therapist.

In all honesty, you got lucky since you knew a decent amount of professors who helped you land this internship. But, all that aside, the plan now was to spend the first week of summer with your boyfriend on the road.

And the start of said trip was wonderful, you two had driven to the next state over so, of course, you weren’t expecting anything to occur the way it did…

He stopped at a gas station to fill up, y’know, nothing unusual. It was hot and you wanted to grab snacks for the road, more than you already had— a decision you’d come to later regret as you truly had more than enough snacks in the car.

But, your greediness got the better of you and you were telling Choso you’d be right back with a small wave to him before skipping your way inside the station.

You had on some shorts and yet another one of Choso’s sweatshirts, a relaxed expression plastered over your features as you entered the store. There were quite a few people inside but you paid no mind to most of them, simply wanting to grab your desired snacks and head back to your boyfriend as soon as possible.

There was some song stuck in your head so you were humming that to yourself as you dipped down one of the isles, the gas station being rather large and the selection of food items being more than you were expecting.

Your eyes lit up as you spotted something yummy and leaned down to grab it, the buzz of your phone making you halt as you redirected your focus to that. Choso had texted you and told you to grab him some chips, to which you liked his message, and went back to your selection.

There was so much to choose from but you had half a mind to just get everything, especially since Choso gave you his card and never really cared how much you spent on it.

He was such a hard worker and you adored him for it. Ever since the whole thing where he realized his competition was rather wealthy Choso has been working like crazy to be able to spoil you as he once said he wished he could.

Hell, around your wrist right now was the bracelet he’d gotten you the day he asked you if he could be your boyfriend— the item turning out to be rather pricey as it's adorned in pretty expensive jewels.

You told the man that money isn’t the way into your heart and that you’d love him even if he didn’t buy a bunch of stuff for you but, he doesn’t really listen and spoils you anyways. However, when you remind him that he needs a certain financial standpoint in order to one day win custody over Yuji, he does relax on his spending.

So, as you stand here wondering what snacks you want, you do come to the conclusion of just swiping up everything you want. 

Happily humming to yourself, you grab item after item before you receive yet another text. Sighing, you shove most of the items under your arm in an awkward hold to check your phone and it’s just another text from your boyfriend. This time he asked you to get him something to drink.

Then, he followed that text by offering his help, to which you told him you got it. Later, you’d grow thankful for such a decision.

Somewhere through your shopping, you swipe up a basket, surprised there even were any as you dump all your items inside. The last few things you needed to grab were the drinks so you headed to the back of the gas station where all the cold stuff was located.

Choso had requested something rather specific but you skimmed over it so, you had to pull your phone back out to see what exactly he said again. With the device in one hand and the basket in the other, your eyes were downward as you walked and a light yelp left your lips when you walked right into someone.

Your forehead bumped into someone’s back and fuck was their physique rock solid. It was okay that you ran into them at first but then, your body went rigid before you even looked up. This scent just flooded your nose, a scent that was accompanied with memories— the sudden thoughts bringing fear to your heart as you looked up. This person’s cologne reminded you of Sukuna…

But, when you laid eyes on black hair, you realized you had nothing to worry about. Sighing in relief, “Sorry,” You hum sweetly.

A chuckle. A sickening familiar chuckle hits your ears and that’s when you bat your eyelashes, recognizing the familiar markings that decorate the lower half of his neck, leading down to other parts of his body you’d once explored.

Oh. It seems your assumption wasn’t wrong at all. This is, in fact, the man you thought it was as he begins to turn to you and frighteningly familiar maroon-shaded eyes snap down to your smaller frame.

Your breathing picked up and you nearly dropped the basket in your hands in pure shock. It was like something out of a fucking movie the way Sukuna stood before you, a terrifyingly attractive smile spreading across his face as he’d recognized you by the sound of your voice before laying eyes on you.

“Well,” He begins, his voice putting you in an immediate daze as you recall so many regretful moments with this man, “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart-,”

“Don’t fucking call me that,”  You spat immediately, sucking in a deep some of air into your lungs and attempting to stand your ground.

Sukuna arches a brow and your eyes shift up slightly to study how he’s dyed his hair black and how it’s grown out a bit more in certain places. Damn the way he’s still painfully attractive, not that you were checking him out of course, but still.

A scoff leaves his lips, the same ones you regret ever placing your own upon, “Oh, she’s feisty now?” He snickers, “To what do I owe the pleasure of you being so upset with me for? Hm?”

Sukuna turns to face you and tips his upper half closer to you, the action making you stumble back a bit.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you scowl, “Don’t act all confused and innocent you abusive piece of shit,” You snap, a mix of disgust and anger vexed onto your once calm expression.

Sukuna seems taken aback by your words, eyebrows raising and shock taking over his expression. Certainly, he hadn’t heard you correctly just now? It takes him a long moment to process what the fuck you just said to him. 

His eye twitches as he gathers all the necessary information in his head, “I see,” Sukuna hums lowly, “So he told you, huh?”

“Obviously,” You huff before moving to step past him, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have no reason to be speaking with you right now-“

His bulky arm extends outward to his side, blocking you from walking past him and forcing you to come to an abrupt halt in your steps. “I wonder… Did you tell him?” Sukuna questions vaguely.

With an annoyed groan, you turn your head to him, “Tell him what?”

“That you’re a whore who’s fucked his brother,” Sukuna clarifies, voice dropping lower and his words coming off harsher.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes, “Yeah, he knows, I told him.”

You weren’t even surprised Sukuna knew you were dating Choso— hell, by now, nearly everyone knew. After all, despite Choso being rather shy, he’s more well-known than he cares to admit.

“Hah,” Sukuna scoffs, “And he’s still with you?”

“Of course he is,” You reply, tone cold, “Now, if you’re done bothering me with such a meaningless conversation, I’d like to leave.”

“See, that’s the thing, sweetheart,” Sukuna voices out slowly before leaning to your ear, “I’m not done.”

You’re repulsed by his sudden closeness, “What else is there for us to talk about? Okay we had sex one time, that’s in the past and I’m dating your step-brother now, literally what else is there for you to say to me-“

“Y’know, you’re so much more entertaining than I initially thought you’d be,” He claims suddenly, smirking a bit, “If only you’d agreed to be my weekly fuck— life would be sooo fun right now.”

You blink in confusion, “What the hell are you talking about, Sukuna?”

“I mean,” He leans away from you suddenly and lets out that wicked laugh of his, “Don’t get me wrong, the list was fun but it would’ve been so-“

“The what?” You cut off, chills running down your spine in reaction to what he just brought up.

Sukuna cocks a brow and steps past your now still frame, “Did I stutter? I said the list was fun.”

“What list, Sukuna?” You breathe out as he walks behind you, entering the aisle to your left.

“Oh y’know,” He shrugs as he casually reaches for a bag of chips, “The F*ck List,” He quotes. “That’s the name you guys decided on, no?” Sukuna asks all too casually as if he didn’t reveal that he not only knows about the list but also the name you and Gojo had explicitly shared between only each other.

Did Gojo tell Sukuna about it? Why would he do that? What the hell-

Sukuna starts laughing and it makes you flinch because he’s suddenly close to you again, lips near your ear, “Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” Sukuna taunts.

Sweat has built up along your skin and your heart is pounding as questions flood your brain. Why does Sukuna know about the list? Why is he bringing it up right now? How long has he known about it? Is this a part of the secret Gojo’s been keeping from you?

Was it never just Gojo from the beginning but two people conspiring that sick and twisted game for you? What-

The sound of Sukuna snapping his fingers makes you jump yet again, “Oh don’t get distracted now. What happened to all that anger of yours? All that confidence?”

You gulp, “I… I’m not sure what you’re talking about Sukuna, but-“

“Oh please don’t lie about this, you’ll only make it all the more difficult for yourself,” Sukuna warns suddenly before walking past your still frozen body and heading toward the nearby fridge, “Instead, if you have questions, ask. I’m not Gojo, I’ll actually answer them.”

Heavy breaths leave your lips and you’re almost too frightened to speak, “H-How… W-Why do you-“

“Ahhh, hear that?” Sukuna cuts off, smiling so happily at the tremble in your tone, “That, sweetheart, is the sweet sound of fear.”

You gulp, “Sukuna, how the fuck do you know about the list?”

He tuts and shakes his head, “Now now, if you want answers,” Swiveling back around to approach you, Sukuna walks slowly toward you before leaning his face to yours and backing you up against a nearby wall, “You’ll talk to me nicely, got it?”

Your upper lip twitches in annoyance, “Fuck you.”

“I’m not sure your boyfriend would be too happy hearing you ask me to do such a thing,” Sukuna taunts.

“Answer my damn question, asshole,” You spit out.

He scoffs, “Either you fix your fucking tone with me or you’ll end up right where this all started.”

“What?” You huff out, confused.

“I’m sure the school would love to see their little therapist fucking herself like the desperate whore she is, wouldn’t they?” Sukuna threatens with a tilt of his head.

Is he… Is he referring to the initial video that caused this whole mess? Your eyes widen like crazy and you could feel your hands trembling slightly, “W-What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Let’s not act all innocent now,” Sukuna hums, “You know what I’m talking about but if you want to test me, I can have it sent to everyone you know and love before you even have time to process it.”

A shaky exhale leaves your throat, “O-Okay, fine. What… What do you want from me now, Sukuna?”

“Oh?” He smirks, “I don’t want anything from you now, sweetheart. You’ve completed your task,” Sukuna claims as he stands straight up but steps even closer to you, his body practically pressing against yours, “Although, you did have a question for me, yes?”

Your mind is a mess and you nearly forgot what the hell your question to him was since you have so many. It takes a second or two but you soon recall, “Yeah… How… How do you know about the list?” You ask timidly.

There it is again, that wicked and all-knowing smile. A sinister expression is plastered across Sukuna’s features and he cackles, “How do I know about the list, you ask?”

An arm is raised to the wall, right beside your head as Sukuna leans down so that his face is right in front of yours, his lips practically on yours due to how close he forced himself. You were worried to even breathe too hard, the tight proximity threatening the very fabric of your relationship with how one wrong move could lead to Sukuna’s lips on yours.

“Sweetheart,” Sukuna whispers so softly, so chillingly, “I know about the list because… well…”

His eyes meet your fearful ones and you blink in anticipation. The words that leave his lips have your breath caught in your throat and your heart on edge.

Sukuna simply tilts his head and his breath caresses your lips as he whispers, “I made it.”

mlist || official ending ||

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

I miss him sm I keep looking at his tags for more content 💔

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 

“Do you like them?” 

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 

“Of course… Satoru.” 

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 

“Not tonight.” 

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 

~  

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

~

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 

~

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

~

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

~

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 

“About the estate?” he asks. 

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

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smiling the whole time I was reading this 🤭 I love this so much

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

Silent Love: Ch. 7 - "A Lovely Night."

⊹ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Seven

Previous Chapter: "Forgiveness?"

Chapter One: New Roommate(s)

Master-List: Here!

.・゜゜・ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ╰┈➤ Sukuna x Reader

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Sypnosis:

When moving out of your dorm and leaving your eccentric roommate goes to shit, you're offered by one of her friends to move in with him... for free! That is, if you don't mind living with two completely opposite college boys.

However, life isn't that easy, and there's a hot asshole around the corner to piss you off. Especially when he's always up late at night when you're studying, purposely trying to get on your nerves in the most perverse way possible.

You hate him.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Genre:

College/Modern World AU. Multiple parts.

Shameless Smut, Thin Walls, Mildly Dubious Consent, Roommates Fluff and Crack, Slice of Life, Kinda Slow Burn, Oral Sex Vaginal Sex, Slight Age Difference, Degradation Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Enemies to Lovers, Spit Kink, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Word Count: 34,014

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ December 4th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Wednesday.

You flutter your lashes open, a soft moan leaving your lips as you adjust yourself in your bed. You can feel a soft stream of light on your face, waking you up from your relaxing sleeping. You instantly shove your face into your pillow, groaning at the sound of cars and birds chirping. Jesus, what time is it? As much as you don’t want to, and how warm and soft your bed is, you decide it’s probably time to wake up. You stretch your arms over your head, and sigh in contentment. You look to the side, noticing that the bedside counter is next to your head. 

You furrow your eyebrows, shouldn’t there be a wall right… Wait.

You blink a few more times, adjusting your eyes into your situation. Instantly, you remember where you are, and why you’re here. It feels like your stomach is bursting with butterflies now, but you try to ground yourself. 

The counter is holding all the things from the day before. Computers, notebooks, textbooks, pencils, and even the sticky-note Sukuna wrote on. You’re tempted to look at the note again, but you catch the sight of the clock on his counter. You feel your heart drop to your stomach, all butterflies evaporating into thin air.. 

You sit up straight, twisting your head to look at Sukuna, “Shit! Sukuna why didn’t you—“

If possible, your stomach twists even harder. The space next to you is empty, void of any form of existing life other than a messy pillow. You feel your eyebrow twitch, before punching his pillow. 

That fucking lying ass son of a bi–

Wait, what day is it?

You feel a rush of nauseous and guilt flood your all at once, when you remember the day. Wednesday. “Shit, I have my club today!” You push his blanket off your body and rush towards the door. You halt on your heel, patting your hips for your phone, only to see it still resting on the dresser, right next to the sticky note and your computer. You pause for a second, moving back and forth before deciding to leave it behind. 

Whatever, it’s not needed. You can always borrow a phone and call Nobara, even if you don’t know her number, or anyone other than your mother’s and a good 3/4ths of your father’s. So, pfft, you’re good. 

You shove your Converse on, running towards your school with halftied shoes. You’re wearing your pjs from the night, and your hair is a tangled mess. You didn’t even have time to wash your face, or your makeup from the previous day. 

Wait, why didn’t Sukuna say anything about your messy makeup when you went to his–oh my god, stop thinking about Sukuna. You mentally yell at yourself, pulling a tight corner and continuing to run. 

Your chest is hurting, not only from running, but from Sukuna’s absence. Yet, you don’t feel like you’ve truly been able to let his actions sink in, but the moment they do, you know you’re going to be a weeping mess. Which is something you really, really want to avoid. 

That backstabbing asshole, such a fucking liar. 

You can feel the gaze of many, passing you unfathomable looks before going back to their mundane activities of life. Fuck them for judging you, and fuck them for having nice cars to take them anywhere they want, whenever they want.

Okay, calm down. You mentally tell yourself. Not everyone that is glaring at you owns a car, nor are they even looking at you. Most likely. Hopefully. 

The moment you reach the campus a few happy tears stream down your face, your feet feel heavy and hard to move, your throat absolutely burning with pain, it’s dry and scratchy. A happy sigh leaves your mouth, before you twist yourself into the direction of the library. 

Pushing open the library doors, and entering with a loud huff. Gaining a rude “Shush!” From the librarian, which you don’t even pay much attention to. You’re rushing to the club room, topping over a small stack of books, which garners you a ring of explicits from the studier, before reaching the club room door. 

You feel another sigh of relief past your lips, and despite how much your body absolutely hurts, you feel a bit better. Even if it’s a tiny, tiny bit. In all honesty, there’s no point in even coming at this point, the club meeting ends in a few minutes.

Until the door smacks you in the face, opening right into you. You stumble backwards, cupping your nose. “Ow.” Your bag’s straps fall down from your shoulders. What is up with doors hitting you?

The person gasps, reaching for your shoulders. “Oh! Madame president, I didn’t mean to-“ They pause, “Madame president?” They sound less worried, and more concerned and surprised now. “I thought you weren’t–”

You place a hand out while keeping one firmly pressed against your nose, cutting them off. “Please stop calling me that.” You shake your head slightly, trying to move into the room. “I have to—“ 

“I thought you weren’t coming today?” They ask you, adjusting their glasses, and placing their hands behind their back. “Are you feeling better? You don’t… look to goo–” They cut off their sentence, not wanting to offend you. 

“I have to come in.” You say exasperated, placing your hands on your hips to try and catch your breath. “Or, no one’s going to fill out the paperwork.” Despite how fucking simple it is. 

“Well, isn’t that why you got a sub?” They tilt their head to the side, “He’s already done everything for you, he’s even learning a few things in sign language as we speak.” 

You feel your eyebrows furrow, “Wait. What?” You tilt your head to the side, trying to look into the room, but you can’t see anything, unfortunately. 

They roll their eyes, “Yeah, next time you have a sub, at least don’t make them obnoxiously attractive.” You watch as they cross their arms over their chest, huffing a small bit. “All the girls have been at his feet trying to teach him simple words like hi, or you’re cute.” They huff, “It’s kinda’ pathetic.” 

You laugh despite your confusion, “Someone sounds jealous.” You ignore their glare, “But, I don’t remember asking for a sub?” Is it Yuuji? “Uh, what’s his…” name? You finish the sentence in your head, but quickly realize where it’s most likely not a good idea to ask the name of someone who you allegedly appointed as a sub. Which… you didn’t even know it was a thing for club presidents. 

They give you an expecting look, fixing their glasses. 

“Uh, I’m just here to make sure things are working out.” You push past them, and immediately you pause at the door’s frame. Your lips part in a silent gasp, a bit shocked by the man standing inside. Now, you don’t know whether to be mad, or touched by his absence earlier today. 

The person who hit you with the door comes by your side, crossing their arms over their chest and huffing. “So, did you know he was coming in for you?” They laugh a bit, “In fact, do you even know who he is?”

“Yes, I know who he fuckin’ is.” You whisper back, passing them a quick glance. “Sukuna. He’s my friend.” You blink a few times, turning your gaze to the floor, your face feels a bit hot. “I didn’t know he was coming in for me.”

“Uh-huh.” They respond back, not believing you. They fix their glasses, “Sure. Didn’t know you were friends with giga-chat frat boys who know nothing, but the bottle of a beer bottle, and pussy.”

“You’re mouthy today.” You snap, “And, don’t say that about him.” You point an accusing finger at them. “He’s so much more than that.” You smile to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest in a conceited manner. “Besides, even with his hot face, he’s still smarter than you, and gets more pussy, too.”

“Sure.” 

You don’t respond, just turn your attention to Sukuna. “What’s he been doing while I’m gone?” You tilt your head to the side, noting the clipboard often held by you at meetings in his hands. 

“Just some of your basic paperwork, simple things, really.” They wave off, “He’s also been learning things.” 

“Did he ask to?” 

“No, the girls are forcing him to. I think.” 

“What have they been teaching him?” 

They force a smile at you, tilting their head to the side. “Why don’t you go ask him yourself?” They push themself off the door frame, passing you a smile, “You two are friends, right?” 

“We are.” You lean on the frame this time, fluttering your lashes. “I’ll see you next week?” 

“We don’t meet for the rest of the year.” They say, playing with their curly hair. “Remember? Finals are going to be a bitch and a half until break.” They pass you a final wave, before departing from the small conference room. Yet, your eyes are trained on Sukuna. 

Sukuna passes a glare at the girl next to him, clipboard in hand while writing something down. But, the girl snatches it from him, saying something along the lines of, ‘Ah, don’t worry about it, I can help with the paperwork!’ Which pisses you off. Not because of her attempt for Sukuna’s attention, but for the fact that she’s doing this for Sukuna, and not you. Who knew people in the club were capable of doing that paperwork?

Not only that, but Sukuna looks… nice today. A college sweatshirt, and some simple black pants. You can still see his golden chain, but this time he’s wearing some matching earrings. You didn’t know he had his ears pierced, or… had that many. He even had the nerve to slick back his hair. 

Jesus, you look like an actual mess. 

Another girl grabs Sukuna’s arm, tugging him in her direction. Which doesn’t last long, Sukuna quickly pulls away, but gives her a look with an eyebrow raised. She’s quick to show him a paper, which you assume has some basic words in ASL. 

You shut the door behind you, which makes everyone but Sukuna flinch. “How did this meeting go?” You ask, making your way to the girl, Jamie, holding the clipboard. 

Jamie awkwardly laughs, tossing a chunk of hair behind her shoulder. “Uhm, it was good. We got all the paperwork done.” She lifts the board in the air, shaking it a bit. 

“Yeah.” You snatch the board from her, seeing that all the information is filled out. “Good to know you’re fully capable of completing the paperwork when necessary.” You pass her a hard glare, which is returned with a sheepish smile. You look at Sukuna, “Did everyone behave?” 

Sukuna’s smirking, “Oh yeah, definitely.” He tilts his head to the side, crossing his arms over his chest. He cocks his head to the side, “Lilith, here, helped me with learning a few phrases.” He passes her a quick glance, whispering, “Thanks, baby.” 

Lilith passes him an enthusiastic head nod, and smile. 

You feel your eye twitch, “Uh-huh. Is that so?” You place the clipboard in its place, sassily placing a hand on your hip. “And, what exactly did you learn?” 

“I love you.” Sukuna relishes in the way you freeze, but try to quickly shake it off. “And, a lot of other things. Nothing too big.” He passes you a shit-eating smirk, “Why don’t you teach me things? Aren’t you the president, or somethin’?”  

You ignore his slight jab at you, “Really?” You turn back to face them, leaning on the counter. “Good job, Lilith. That’s impressive.” Even though you’ve always been on your phone every club meeting. “I didn’t know you were so attentive.” 

Sukuna nods, “Very attentive.” 

You scoff, “Well, the club is dismissed. No more meetings until next semester.” You say to the girls, passing them a quick wave. “I’ll see you after break.” 

Lilith turns to Sukuna, “Do you want to walk with me?” She asks innocently. 

She’s bold. 

“Oh, I can come, too!” Jamie adds, “We’re roommates, so you won’t have to walk too long.” 

Woah. You feel your stomach turn with unease, something hot and toxic bubbling at the back of your throat. Is this jealousy? You feel your eye twitch with annoyance, watching the two of them speak by Sukuna’s side. Wait, you don’t get jealous, and even if you were, you and Sukuna aren’t even… dating. 

Why are you even thinking about this, you aren’t jealou–“Sukuna?” You innocently ask, which makes him pass you a delighted look. So, he knows what he’s doing. Wonderful. 

Sukuna tilts his head to the side, “Yes, doll?” The two girls seem to mimic his movements, passing you their full attention now that Sukuna is looking at you. Good. 

“Are you going to be home before seven? Or, am I going to have to walk home?” You fake some pain, placing a hand on your lower back. “That’d be cruel of you, especially after last night.” 

Suddenly, the state of your appearance is the only thing the two girls are looking at. Your messy hair, messy makeup, and your clothing which seems a bit more wrinkled than they should be. 

Sukuna smirks, biting the inside of his cheek while looking away from you. “How cruel of me.”

“See, now you have to take me home.” You say with a smile, “So happy we came to an agreement.” You turn to the two girls, “Sorry, but looks like he’s going to be busy, maybe some other time he can walk you to your apartment. 

The two girls huff, and turn to Sukuna for his opinion. “Yeah, yeah.” He stuffs a hand into his pocket, rolling his eyes. “It’s better than walking around with some annoying ass bitches.” For once, you love that Sukuna is someone who says exactly what he’s thinking with no censor. 

The two girls scoff and finally leave the room with a loud door slam. You narrow your eyes at Sukuna, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Shut up.” You turn away from him, arms crossed over your chest. “I don’t want to hear a word from you.”

“Mhm.” Sukuna hums, slowly moving to your side. “Not going to say anything.” 

You scoff, “You need to learn to control your dick.” You huff, finally looking at him. “Those girls weren’t even that hot, I’m like… way hotter.” 

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, “You look like a mess.” 

“That’s not the correct response.” You glare at him, “And, besides, whose fault is that?” 

Sukuna doesn’t respond for a moment, merely stares at you with an unreadable expression. Yeah, you look hot when you’re mad, no wonder he likes messing with you. “Mhm.” He smirks, cupping your face. “I like knowing that.” He moves in close to kiss you, but you quickly shove him away. 

“I know you’re trying to be sexy.” Sukuna gives you an expecting look. And, you are, you mentally think. “But, I don’t feel ho–” 

“You look hot. I’m just fuckin’ with you.” Sukuna says, twisting your messy hair in his hand. “Especially when you are jealous, or mad. Fuck. You should really look at yourself.” Suddenly, Sukuna thinks about doing just that in front of the mirror in his room. “And, I’m trying to fuck you in the club room.” He lowers his head, twisting it to the side to ghost his lips over yours. 

You can feel your thighs mush together from his words, a small fire igniting in your lower stomach. “You’re more open today.” You mumble, chewing on the inside of your lips. Sukuna nods, “But, no. I’m not fucking you where I teach people about ASL.” As appealing as it may seem right now, you have some form of respect. 

Kinda. And, you know, you don’t want your first time to be in a club room. 

“Boring.” He leans in to kiss you but you turn your head away. He sighs, “Stop doing that.” 

“I didn’t brush my teeth.” You abruptly say, face a bit hot with embarrassment. “You’re not kissing me when I know I haven’t brushed my teeth.” There’s a lot of things you’re not going to do knowing that you haven’t gotten ready for the day. Looking at Sukuna for too long with your makeup stained face, is one of them. 

Sukuna lets out a long sigh, almost annoyed in a way. It makes you giggle. “I can bash your head into the wall.” Sukuna juts his thumb towards a wall, leaning back slightly. “Maybe that will give you amnesia, and you’d let me kiss you.” He smirks.

“Romantic, really, but no thank you.” You wrap your arms around his torso, “Next time a girl does something like that, shove her away, or say something like…” You think for a moment, “Uhm, I’m already with the love of my life, and you’re ugly.” 

“You think you’re the love of my life?” 

“It’s what’s on your phone, and we can’t argue with that.” You tilt your head, pressing your cheek on his chest.

Sukuna taps your head, dog-like in a way, “Yeah, no.” He looks to the side, “Besides, if I told a girl that, I wouldn’t get to see your jealous face.” He pinches your nose, “Wouldn’t be able to pass up a chance to see you glare at another girl for breathing in my direction. It’s cute.” 

Sukuna’s response gives you mixed feelings, but you don’t try to dwindle on it for too long. “You make it sound like I’m jealous.” You mumble pulling away from his grip. “I’m not jealous, I don’t get jealous.” You lean  into his sweatshirt, closing your eyes and relaxing into his warm body. You’ve never noticed how warm Sukuna is, practically a human heater. 

“You are.” 

“I’m not.”

“Uh-huh.” He murmurs, and the fire in your stomach grows hotter. Dammit, why does he have to have such a sexy voice? It's not fair.

“Fine. Be like that.” 

“I will. It’s not like you’re going to do–shit!” Sukuna yelps a bit, pulling away from you. “Fuck, your hands are fuckin’ freezing!” He shivers, but doesn’t shove you away when you move close again. “Do that shit again, and I will bash your head into a wall.”

“You’re so aggressive. We need to fix that.” You slide your hands under his sweatshirt again, and Sukuna flinches, but doesn’t pull away. “See, it’s not too bad.” You’re also using your cold hands as an excuse to touch Sukuna, as much as you wanted to yesterday, you couldn’t due to the positio…

You blink a few times, feeling your face grow hot. 

“Yeah. Whatever.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, placing his weight on one of his legs. Watching as you cling to him like a child to their mother. He’s used to women clinging onto him, but he’s always found it bothersome, and annoying. Shoving them off, or verbally berating them, but with you… he doesn’t mind it… that much.

You softly sigh, shoving your nose into his shirt. His cologne floods your senses, toasty and dark. “Let's go already, I feel messy.” You groan, pulling away and running your hands through your tangled strands. “I feel dirty. Do you happen to have a brush in your car?” 

“Why would I have a brush in my car?” Sukuna places his hands into his pockets, stopping himself from grabbing you again. 

You play with a strand of your hair, “I don’t know. Aren’t you like?... I don’t know, a fuck boy.” You turn to the door, flipping the light switch off. “I would think girls leave stuff in your car to claim you, or something.” 

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, “What makes you think that?” You pass him a knowing look, which makes him bite back a smile. “You’re stupid. I don’t go around fucking people.” He teases, “That shit is gross to me. It’s how you get diseases.” 

“Uh-huh.” You roll your eyes, pushing open the door and flooding brief light into the dark place. “Sure. It’s not like you go to frat parties all the time. I wonder what you could possibly be doing there.” 

“Having a girl suck my dick, is different from fuckin–” 

“You know what? I don’t think I want to talk about this anymore.” You’re hurting your own feelings. “Whatever, I’m sure your body count is like–off the charts.” 

Sukuna comes close to your side, his arm brushing against yours with every step he takes. “Three.” He whispers, and you don’t know if it’s him being soft for you, or if it’s the setting that’s making him whisper. “I’ve only been with three girls.” 

You know for sure that one is the blonde girl, but who are the others? Is one his first girlfriend? But, they were only dating for a few months if you remember correctly. “Oh.” You look at him, blinking a bit dumbfounded. “Honestly. That's… way less than I thought it was going to be.”  

“Yeah.” Sukuna places a hand on the back of his neck, before smirking to himself. “Aren’t you a virgin?” As much as Sukuna wanted to make fun of you when he first found out, he quickly realized it wasn’t the time and place for such. You were nervous, and a bit anxious, and that’s not how Sukuna wanted your first time with him to be. However, now, things are a bit different. “Loser.” 

You feel your face turn hot. “I’m never letting you touch me again.” Sukuna shrugs, so you add, “I also want Mcdonalds.” 

“Alright.” 

“Can you get me cookies?” 

“Will you finally kiss me?” 

You smile, “If you get me what I usually get, a Mcflurry, and cookies, I’ll give you more than a kiss.” 

—

Sukuna should already know how you wouldn’t let him kiss you, more or less let him look at you for too long, you were just bluffing. Hell, he went so far to get you Chick-fil-A in the hopes of you keeping your promise. Then again, Sukuna isn't all that upset, seeing your face light up when he pulled into the driveway is more than enough for him.

Suddenly, he feels something punch his shoulder, pulling his attention to you. Your eyebrows are furrowed, “Why didn’t you text me, or leave a note–or something–about how you were subbing for me?” You fume, “I thought you left me! And right after you–” 

“I did.” Sukuna replies nonchalantly. “I texted, and left a note for you.” He laughs to himself, smirking a bit with pride. “In fact, I used the same sticky note from our study session to tell you.” 

You blink a few times, “Did you?”

“Yeah.” He looks at your pockets, or… lack thereof. “Check your phone, I’m pretty sure you left me on read.” 

“I…” You sheepishly look away, scratching the back of your neck, “I left my phone rushing to get to the library.” 

“Of course. Why didn’t I expect that?” 

“Hey!” You throw a tissue at him, “I can make mistakes, but you can’t expect me to make mistakes.” You dramatically bite into a fry, “If anything, you need to expect me to be nothing but perfect, okay?” 

“Whatever.” 

“Actually, if you let me eat your nugget ice, I’ll forgive you.” You pick up Sukuna’s drink, and shake it around, the ice inside softly splashing against the sides of the cup. 

Sukuna raises one of his eyebrows, pointing at the cup. “You want… the ice?” 

“Yes.” You say with full seriousness. “I love Chick-fil-A ice.” 

Sukuna throws his hand up, mumbling, “Take everything else I have at this point.” He takes the cup away from you, and places it back in his cup holder. “I can’t even drink anything anymore.” 

“You can have the drink.” You smile, “I just want the ice, besides, it’s not like you’re going to miss it or anything.”

“You’re…” Sukuna leans back in his chair, tilting his head back to look at the roof of his car. “I don’t think there are words in the English language to describe you.” He shakes his head, “No, I know what you are.” 

“What?” 

Sukuna passes you a sadistic grin, “Autistic.” 

There’s silence again, and you don’t like it. “I think I’m going to cancel you.” You turn away from him, taking a bite of your food. “You’re done, Sukuna, you’re done.” 

“Mhm.”

You let the silence simmer for a moment, before finally speaking again, “Hey, ‘Kuna?”

“Hm?” Sukuna bites into his sandwich. Again, in a very Sukuna like manner. 

You pop a nugget into your mouth, chewing slowly, “I’ve been meaning to ask, but… why did you pick me to be your fake girlfriend?” You steal one of his fries, popping it into your mouth before he could object. 

Sukuna scoffs at you, tilting his head to the side. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, it was the blonde girl you were with when your Grandpa caught you, right?” You grab a strand of your hair, “My hair isn’t necessarily that color of blonde.” You’re more than sure that her color isn’t natural, it’s more dandelion yellow then a true blonde. Which you think is more than enough of a noticeable difference between your hair and hers. “Just… wouldn’t it make sense to ask her, the girl he caught you with, then me.” You laugh a bit, “I mean, have you seen my hair? We’re not an exact match.” You sarcastically add. 

Sukuna thinks for a moment, before freezing, as if a sudden cold-chilling realization had fallen over him. He looks at you, his food, then back at you again, “Uh.” He mentally curses to himself, remembering the girl he had over. “It wasn’t… the blonde girl I had over.” He tells you.

You look away muttering, “Whore.” 

“Lock your door tonight, I think I’m actually going to kill you in your sleep.” You laugh, taking a sip of your milkshake. “But, I didn’t have her over. I had some other girl over.” Sukuna’s eyes land on your hair for a moment, before he looks back at his food. “Don’t worry, your hair looked…” He hesitates before finishing, “Your hair looked identical to hers.”

You blink a few times, letting his sentence settle in your head. “Wait, wasn’t that before the project?” You tilt your head to the side, “Does that mean you called her over because she looked like–” 

Sukuna shoves a fry in your mouth. “Eat your food.” He huffs, pulling out of the parking spot in the Chick-fil-A parking lot. “I swear, you talk to fuckin’ much.” 

You hum, finishing the food. “Okay, meanie.” You pop another nugget in your mouth, looking at your reflection in the window. You like to think your hair is rather unique to yourself, hard to find something alike. You pass Sukuna a quick glance. Unless, he purposely asked a girl over who looked similar to you, because he…

You feel your eyes widen. Your lips parted ever so slightly, your face burning with embarrassment. Sukuna started like you… way before the project even happened. To the point where he invited some who looked similar to you over. That’s why Wasauke didn’t get suspicious when he first saw you. 

Sukuna smirks to himself, “You’re starin’, lovely.” He notices you whisper something underneath your breath, “Said somethin’?”

You look away from him, munching on another fry. “Simp.” 

His smile falls, “Get the fuck out the car.” 

You burst into laughter. 

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ December 5th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Thursday.

The curtains are pulled back, letting the strong light of the sun into the living room. The sound of a movie playing in the background, while a book laid a few inches in front of your face. 

You’re dressed in simple wear, some pj shorts, and one of Sukuna’s shirts. It’s massive on you, covering your shorts and a good chunk of your thighs. Some fluffy socks bunched up at your ankles to keep your feet warm. 

Sukuna’s thumbs press into the sole of your left foot resting on his lap, your free one kicking up and down slightly. He’s wearing something equally as laid back, some black sweats, and his shirt… Well, you know where his shirt is. 

You’re resting on your stomach, your mind traveling in the world of literature. “Did you know that the most popular romance genre happens to be country?” You mindlessly say.

“Really?” Sukuna’s still looking at the TV. 

“Mhm.” You flip a page in your book, “Anything with the word Texas, or some form of Texas love pulls readers to buy it.” You stop reading, looking over our shoulder. “Hypothetically, of course, if I bought you a cowboy hat, would you wear it?” 

“No.” 

You think for a moment, “What about cowboy boots?” You quickly imagine Sukuna in cowboy boots, wearing a white wife beater, a plaid flannel, and—of course—a cowboy hat. You’re practically drooling. You divert your eyes, mumbling, “That would be hot.” 

Sukuna is almost as quick to answer, but pauses, thinking to himself. “Cowboy boots sound nice.” He props his arm on the arm rest, placing the weight of his cheek on his knuckles. “But, I’d never wear them. Not in the city at least.”

“You could wear them in the house.” You giggle, “It’d be something only for me to see.” 

Sukuna bites the inside of his cheek, “Weirdo.” 

“I’m not the weird one here.” You whisper, turning your attention back to your book. “From what I can recall, you were the one who masterbated to the thought of licking my–”

Sukuna grabs your pinkie toes, harshly pulling on it, gaining a small yelp from your throat. “None of that.” He scolds, “Always so sharp with your tongue.” He smirks, “That’s not the case when I was suckin’ on your–” 

“You know what, I’ll shut up for once.” You roll your eyes, continuing to read. Luckily, the two of you had already completed all your classes for the day, and Sukuna skipped practice. Again. It’s a bad habit he’s starting to develop, and a part of you wonders if he’s only doing it to pass time, or to become an athlete.

Sukuna slaps your back, “I’m hungry.” He pushes himself off the couch, making you fall to the floor in the process. “Let’s go get somethin’ to eat.” 

You lay on the floor, “Right. So glad you gave me a warning.” You soppily reach your hand over the couch cushions, grabbing a pillow, placing it under your head. “I mean, fuck my life, right?” You grab your book, continuing to read like nothing happened. 

“Get your ass up.” Sukuna snatches the book from your hands, closing it and tossing it on the table behind him. “You’re comin’ with me, go get your ass ready.” 

You groan, draping your forearm over your eyes. “But, I’m comfy, and I don’t want to leave the house.” You wave your hand in the direction of Yuuji’s room, “Tell Yuuji to go with you this time, I’m always going with you.” 

Sukuna groans, “You’re so difficult, just go get ready.” He turns to his room, hearing you giggle behind him. 

“Awh, if this is a date you’re asking me on, why didn’t you just say so sooner?” You tease, pushing yourself on your palms, and tilting your head at him. 

Sukuna tenses, the tips of his ears turning bright red. 

You blink a few times, a bit confused on why he reacted so dramatically to your joke, before you face flushes. “Oh my god! Wait, you’re actually asking me on a date?!” You scramble on your feet, almost falling as you make your way to Sukuna’s side. 

Sukuna turns his face away from you, “Hell no.” His ears are still red, “I’d never want to go on a date with you.” 

You pass him a curious look, smiling slightly. “Uh-huh. I’m sure.” You turn to face your room, “Same here, I’d never want to date someone like you, ‘Kuna. Gross.” You laugh again, lighter and lifting the room with bright energy, “I’m going to go get ready.” 

“Shower.” Sukuna calls from behind your shoulder, “You stink.” 

—

You like to think that the color pink is merely a coincidence, not something you picked because of Sukuna. Pfft, please, it’s not like your life revolved around him or anything, and you’ve always loved the color pink since childhood, so… yeah. 

“Are you wearing pink to match with him?” Nobara asks, tilting her head to the side. 

You feel your face flush, “No, I like the color pink.” You mumble, “Besides, Yuuji helped me pick out this dress, so—” 

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Nobara blows on her nails, removing the small excess that came from filing them down. “I’m sure Sukuna will think the exact same things when he sees you’re wearing a dress that perfectly matches his hair.” She grabs a black sharpie marker, holding it up to the camera. “Hold up, let me just add some missing touches…” 

“Nobara.” You whine, face a bit hot with frustration and embarrassment. “Does it look like I’m trying too hard? I don’t know what I should wear since I don’t even know if this is a date…”

”This is totally a date.” Nobara deadpans, “You two are totally a couple.”

That makes you blink, “Wait, is that true?” You place your hand over your mouth, whispering, “I mean, I’m sure he likes me, but I wouldn’t say we’re dating.” You turn to the side, looking at your door. “Like I said, I don’t even know—“ 

“Ugh, you’re so oblivious.” Nobara drops her head on her bed, groaning lightly. “How does everyone know, but you? This is so frustrating.” She pulls her head back up, “Call it a date, I want to hear you say it.” 

You hesitate, but nod, “We’re going on a date.” 

“Hell yeah you are.” Nobara gives you a thumbs up, nodding her head enthusiastically. “Now, remember to wear some cute matching underwear. He’s totally going to give it to you later tonight.” She smirks, “Rock your world, some would say.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

“I didn’t say that.” Nobara places her hand on her chest, “Some said that. Very clear difference.” 

“I can’t with you.” You continue to do your makeup, before biting the side of your cheek. “Do you think the matching set should be pink?” 

“That’s the spirit!”

—-

It isn’t long before you’re happy with your look. Your hair styled perfectly, makeup and lashes done, along with some cute intricate heels. They’re a bit dramatic, but cute nonetheless, and they were expensive, so you’re going to wear them like a badge of honor. 

It makes you wonder why you don't wear heels more often? The last time you wore them it wasn’t bad at all. Took awhile to get used to walking in them, but after that you were good. They’re gorgeous, and make your legs look amazing. 

Maybe you will start wearing them more often. They would be an amazing incorporation to your already cute outfits. 

The dress you’re wearing is also incredibly cute. A skin tight tube top, while the bottom flared out with ruffles. A part of you thinks to grab a sweater, but it’s not like it’s going to be that cold, and it would ruin your outfit! 

You grab your things and leave your room, glancing into Yuuji’s room considering the door is wide open. You smile, passing him a kind wave. “Hey, Yuu.” 

Yuuji looks away from his phone, eyeing you up and down. There’s a subtle smile on his lips as he says, “A date?” He sits up, placing his phone down. “Did he finally ask you out on a date?” 

You naturally want to say no, but you hesitate, a small smile splitting your lips. “Uh, yeah, he finally asked me on a date.” You push a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Good to know he finally grew some balls.” Yuuji pushes himself off his bed, “Sukuna’s lucky, too. You deserve so much better than my emotionally underdeveloped brother.” He rolls his eyes, before grabbing your hands. His expression is hard, “If he does something that upsets you, call me. I’ll fucking kill him for you.” 

You blink a few times in shock. Is that the first time you’ve ever heard Yuuji cuss? You didn’t even know that was possible. You stutter out a laugh, before nodding your head enthusiastically. “Yeah, don’t worry Yuuji. I’ll totally call you if he starts acting up.” 

Yuuji nods with determination, “Good.” He smiles again, his eyebrows soft again. “You look amazing, by the way. Absolutely stunning.” 

You laugh, looking to the side. “Thanks Yuuji.” You look him up and down, “You look good too, are you going somewhere?” 

Yuuji places his hand on the back of his neck, taking a few steps back from you. “Uh, yeah.” He fishes his phone out of his pocket, “A friend of mine from middle school asked to catch up. So, I want to look nice.” 

You smirk, “Is this person a girl, by chance?” 

Yuuji shakes his head, his face flushed. “It’s not like that.” His  eyes light up for a moment, “Wait, I have something for you.” Yuuji moves to his drawer, and fishes for a tiny box inside. 

You tilt your head, taking a few steps closer. “A box?” 

“Yeah.” Yuuji smiles, holding it out for you. “I got it for my ex-girlfriend forever ago, but you can have it.” 

You feel your eye twitch. You don’t really know how to feel about that, but with the way Yuuji is smiling at you without a care in the world, you know he means it with pure intentions. “Uh, thanks Yuuji.” You grab it from him, removing the top and looking at the shining jewelry.

It’s gorgeous. A pair of matching earrings and a necklace perfectly held in the velvet padding. Silver and diamonds forming an intricate design that matches the earrings. Your lips part ever so slightly, “Yuu, this is…” 

Yuuji nods to himself, “I know. I’m an awesome best friend.” He places a hand on your shoulder, a smug smile on his lips. “No need to thank me, I already know you’re thankful.” 

You grab him in a hug, “Yeah, I don’t need to thank you.” You giggle into his shoulder, “But, thanks anyway.” You pull away, grabbing the earrings and putting them on, along with the matching necklace. “Does it look good?” 

Yuuji nods his head, a soft smile on his lips. “It’s perfect.”

“Are you ready to go?” Sukuna brassly asks behind you, his forearm resting on the door frame of Yuuji’s door. “I’ve been waitin’ for… hours…” 

You turn over your shoulder, your hair bouncing with life as you do so. You blink at him, your fake lashes fluttering. You pout slightly, pinching a strand of hair and rubbing it between your fingers, “I didn’t take that long.” You mutter sheepishly. 

Sukuna pauses, his lips parting before closing. He looks to the side, “Whatever.” He bites the inside of his cheek, “It’s cold, go get a sweater.” Sukuna, unlike you, is wearing a sweater. A nice zip up to decorate his black clothing. His gold chain accentuated, while a matching gold ring rested on his ring finger. He looks nice, really nice. 

“You’re not going to compliment her?” Yuuji places his elbow on your shoulder, resting a bit of his weight on you. “Actually, you don’t have to, I already did that for you.” He winks at Sukuna, passing him a smug smirk. “I got you.” 

Sukuna bites the inside of his cheek, his eyes trained on Yuuji. “Did you?” 

You nod enthusiastically, picking up on what Yuuji is doing. “Yeah!” You take a step forward, pushing your hair behind your shoulders to reveal the earrings he gave you. “And he also gave me these earrings! Aren’t they cute?”

Sukuna laughs through his teeth, “Adorable.” 

You blink at him innocently, leaning forward to let the necklace dangle right in front of your cleavage. “He also gave me this necklace, isn’t it just lovely?” You place your hand over your heart, showing off the jewelry. “I think it’s the sweetest thing ever.”

”Go get a jacket.” Sukuna pushes himself off the door frame, “We’re getting somethin’ that isn’t hideous.” He scoffs, arms crossed over his chest. “Yuuji has horrible taste, let’s get you something nice.” He makes his way to the kitchen, leaving you and Yuuji alone in his room.  

You turn, placing your hand on your hip. “No, my outfit would be ruined if I wore a jacket.” You pass Yuuji a quick smile and thumbs up, which is quickly returned by an equally enthusiastic Yuuji. “And I like what Yuuji gave me, it’s cute.” You follow after Sukuna. 

“That shit is ugly.” Sukuna grabs his keys. “If your ass starts freezing, I’m just going to point and laugh at you.” 

You roll your eyes, “Why am I choosing to leave with you?” Your heels click as you follow Sukuna into his car.  

“Don’t know.” Sukuna smiles, opening the door for you. “Maybe you’re obsessed with me, or something.” He places his hand atop your head, patting it a few times. You sit in his car, not bothering to respond. 

—-

Sukuna parks his car, with a soft beep, before reaching for the door. The car ride here was mostly silent, other than you asking some simple questions about where he’s taking you, and if he genuinely plans on murdering you today. Sukuna’s silence is normal, you’re used to it, but after you saw how Yuuji got under his skin, you sincerely think he might murder you today. 

“We’re here.” He adds, before shutting the door behind him. You immediately go to open your door, but Sukuna locks the car with you inside, making your attempts feeble. You groan with annoyance, tilting your head to look at him through the window. 

“Unlock the car.” You mumble. 

Sukuna cups the back of his ear, smirking. You can see, and hear, him mouth, “What?” 

You lean back in the car, and really contemplate; Is this the guy you like? Someone who is a little shit, and does everything in their power to get under your skin. You giggle to yourself, nodding your head. Hell yeah. You flash him an obvious fake smile, and clasp your hands together, “Please, open the door.” 

Sukuna unlocks the car, opening the door for you, and you don’t know if he was being nice to you, or if he was genuinely trying to get under your skin. “Mh. Love when you say that.” He grabs your hand, and yanks you out of the car, slamming you against his body. “Oops, forget how clumsy you are sometimes.” 

You shake your head, “And I forget how fuckin’ stupid you are sometimes.” You hear him shut the door behind you, locking the car again. “Why can’t you be a normal boyfriend, and just open the door for me like a gentleman?” 

“So, I’m your boyfriend now?” 

You feel your face flush, pushing Sukuna away from you, “Uh–I… that’s not what I meant.” You move forward, pushing your hair behind your shoulder, “I was just being hypothetical.” You huff. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes with a knowing smirk, “Sure, doll.” 

You cross your arms over your shoulders, small goosebumps erupting over your skin. “Ugh. I hate that nickname.” You immediately notice you’re in the parking lot of a mall. The biggest one in the city. You’ve only been here a few times, considering you’re more of a shopper, rather than window shopping person.  

Sukuna walks right behind you, hand on the small of your back. “I hate you call me ‘Kuna.” He grimaces a bit, “That shit is so stupid.” 

“That nickname isn’t going anywhere, anytime soon.” You pause, letting him come to your side and looping your arms over his right one. Sukuna doesn’t even flinch, nor does he pull away, if anything, he moves his arm to allow you to grab it better. You cling onto his warmth, “I think knowing that you hate it, make me like it even more.” 

“I feel like the only reason you were born was to annoy me.” He pushes open the doors to the mall, and the bubbling sound of various conversations and mall music floods your ears. The smell of food and sweets entering your senses.

You wrinkle your nose, “Don’t say that. It makes it seem like we’re soulmates, or born for each other.” You shake your head, turning your head away from Sukuna so he can’t see the smile on your lips. “Gross. Imagine?” 

“Fuck you, too.”

You giggle, squinting, as the sun from the skylight beams in your eyes. “You know, I’ve been wondering, why don’t you have a girlfriend?” You think of the blonde girl for a second, she makes you scowl. “Or, are you more into the casual hookups.” 

Sukuna places his sunglasses over your eyes, they’re a bit big on you, but look nice nonetheless. “Relationships are… not for me.” He clicks his tongue, “I already told you about my last relationship, and it was…” 

“Bad?” You push your hair from your face, making sure it looks good with the new added accessory. “But, wasn’t that back in highschool? Wouldn’t it be a good idea to give relationships a go since it’s your last year in college?” You laugh to yourself, “Unless you’re planning to die alone.” 

Sukuna pinches your nose, “No, dumbass.” He naturally looks at the way you’re holding him, close and comfortable. “I just—I don’t think I was ready for a relationship. I had shit going on, the things I told you.” 

“That’s oddly mature of you, ‘Kuna.” You let your head rest on his arm, “So, in other words, you were the problem?” 

“I’m never the fuckin’ problem.” Sukuna laughs to himself, more cockily than anything. “But, enough about me. Tell me about you, virgin. Any middle school relationships?” 

You narrow your eyes at him, “You keep calling me a virgin, and I will literally leave.” 

“Sure.” 

You look up, trying to think. “I mean, I had a crazy ex, but it didn’t last that long.” 

Sukuna snickers to himself, ”I think you were the crazy one.” 

“Oh yeah, I definitely was.” You shrug, “But, that’s a given.” You almost fall when Sukuna abruptly tugs you into a store, your heels clicking frantically behind him. “Sukuna! I’m in heels, you can’t pull me around like that.” You whine, but it doesn’t last when you look around the store. Observing the products for sale. Clothing, shoes, jewelry, and bags. 

You blink a few times, trying to identify the clothing store by the layout, but find yourself coming out flat. Although, Sukuna seems to be more familiar with the layout, keeping you close to him as he leads you to the back of the store without a word. You notice the glass case, velvet decorators holding shining jewelry.  

You push the sunglasses up to the crow of your head, “Wait, you weren’t joking about the—“ 

“Of course not.” Sukuna stops, pushing you in front of him, “I hate that you’re wearing somethin’ another man gave you.” 

“That ‘other man’ is your brother, Sukuna.” Your eyes are trained on various necklaces, rings, and earrings, sparkling like diamonds–they are diamonds–in the light. “You shouldn’t think that way about your brother.” You lightly scold, but you don’t really mean it. 

“Pick something.” Sukuna doesn’t bother to respond, “Anything you like, I’ll get it for you.” 

You blink a few times, you don’t believe him. “You’re joking.” 

“Do you want me to be?” Sukuna’s on his phone, doing god knows what. “Anything. And make sure you hurry up, before I change my mind.” 

A lady dressed in a pencil skirt, and a white collared shirt makes her way to you, smiling kindly. “Is there anything you have in mind? Or, are we just browsing?” Her hair is pulled in a tight low bun, her bright blue eyes decorated with some cat-like glasses. 

“She’s looking for somethin’ nice.” Sukuna says, phone pressed to his ear. “Anything you think would suit her?” 

This feels so overwhelming, Sukuna’s buying you something, he’s actually going to buy you something. Is this why Yuuji was pointing out the necklace, did he know this was going to happen? “Uh…” You thickly swallow, pushing your hair behind your ear. “Uh—“ 

The lady nods her head, almost ignoring you. “Come here, child. I think I have something that will match your skin perfectly.” She starts walking to the right of the display, leading you to more bubbling jewelry. “Do the two of you have a price range by chance?”

You immediately open your mouth, wanting to say something along the lines of ‘anything cheap,’ but Sukuna places his hands over your ears, his phone snuggling held between his ear and shoulder. Sukuna says something to the lady, but it’s muffled and quick, and it’s returned with an enthusiastic head nod. He lets go of you, he bends down, his mouth near your ear as he whispers, “Pick out anything you like.” He takes a step back, patting your head, and speaking to the person on the phone.

You hesitate, but move close to the display, eyeing the array of colorful diamonds. You glance over your shoulder, eyeing Sukuna, before looking at the lady again. You lean in close, whispering, “What did he say?“

The woman glances at Sukuna, before reaching down and pulling out a rack of necklaces, along with matching earrings. “Which one do you like?” She grabs one of the necklaces, it’s simple, a silver chain, but the diamond is stunning. Wrapped in silver lining, and lined with smaller diamonds. “We also have some matching earrings, if you want to take a look at them.” 

You laugh nervously, toying with the ends of your frilly dress. ”Oh, but that seems like a lot of money.” You glance at the matching earrings, “But, they are pretty. Maybe not for me, though…” 

“Oh, sweetie, everything that’s covered in diamonds is made for women. The more the better.” She waves off with a playful smile, “I’m sure your fiance wouldn’t mind showering you in them, either.” 

You feel your eyes widen, taking a small step back, “Oh, we’re not–” 

“Of course not.” Sukuna pinches a strand of your hair, twisting the strand around his finger. “Anything for the wife, right?” The woman nods enthusiastically again. 

You want to pass Sukuna an uncertain glance, but are unable to find the opportunity when the woman reveals a beautiful bracelet. One that calls to you far more than it should. “That one is… nice.” 

You love it. 

The woman nods, “That’s wonderful, do you want to see the matching set that comes with it?” She reaches down in the display again, revealing the matching jewelry. She holds it close to your skin, the necklace gleaming with little to no light. “I think it fits with you perfectly, maybe a nice set of nails to match?” She turns to Sukuna for his opinion. 

You turn to look at him too, not for his opinion, but to gauge why she was asking for his opinion when you’re going to be the one wearing it. But, you're quickly shocked to see he’s already looking at you, “Well? What do you think?” 

Your lips part, blinking your long lashes at him in a bit of shock. “I…” You look back at the jewelry near your skin. It’s lovely, it really is, but do you deserve to have it? How expensive is it? You look at Sukuna again, softly saying, “I really like it.” 

Sukuna nods, placing his hand on your head. “We’ll take the set.” 

The lady nods, collecting the things and placing them on a velvet tray. You feel bad, velvet alone means expensive. “Can I get a name?” 

Your name leaves Sukuna lips with ease, and you can’t help but adore the way it sounds on his tongue. It feels a bit intimate, despite it being something as simple as your name, but hearing him say it… feels good. 

You really like it. 

You watch as she moves to the register, whispering, “Are you sure?”

Sukuna tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes to the side. “Yeah? What? Do you not think I can afford it?” He leans down, getting close in your face to whisper, “Do you really think I’m that poor?”

You huff, a small laugh leaving your lips. “Oh yeah, definitely.” You cross your arms over your chest sassily, “I’m scared my mere existence is too expensive to you.” You wave off. 

Sukuna feels his eye twitch. “Oh really?” 

You smile, nodding your head innocently, “Mhm.” You hum. 

“Pick out somethin’ else.” Sukuna says, pushing you towards the clothing rack. “Anything.”

You almost trip over your footing again, the extra dangles of jewels connected to your heels jangling. “Stop with the pushing!” You whine, grabbing onto his wrist to stable yourself. 

“If you fall, I’m going to laugh.” Sukuna mumbles behind you.

“Ah, yes, I’m so lucky to have you.” You whisper, but you turn your attention to the clothing racks. Dresses, and other articles of clothing decorating the hangers and shelves. 

A dress catches your attention, and you instantly reach for the price tag, trying to check the price. Sukuna is quick to grab your wrist, stopping you from looking at the price. He grabs the dress, holding it to your body. Seeing if it would fit you. 

“Don’t look at the price.” He tells you nonchalantly,  placing the dress on his forearm. He turns on his heel, walking towards the changing rooms, “Lets go try this on.” 

You hesitate to follow, glancing at the other dresses and being tempted to check the price, but Sukuna’s words repeat in your head. It’s a choice you make, not at all influenced by Sukuna’s orders, but you decide not to check the price. 

“Hurry your slow ass up.” 

“I’m going slower just because you said that.” 

— 

The dressing room is small, but one of the nicest you’ve ever been in. The mirror is framed by bright LED lights, and the bench is covered in soft leather. The rack holds your empty hanger, the dress sticking to your body. 

You glance at yourself in the mirror, struggling to zip up the dress up your back. A small, but frustrated, sigh leaving your glossy lips. “I hate zippers.” You let your hands drop down to your sides, sitting on the seat. 

Sukuna knocks on the door, “You finished in there?” He places his forehead on the door, “You’re taking to fuckin’ long. Hurry your–” 

You open the door abruptly, making Sukuna’s head meet straight with yours. You flinch, but immediately add, “I can’t zip it up.” You take a few steps back, a silent invitation for Sukuna to enter. “Can you help me?” 

Sukuna scoffs, but you can see him trying to hide a smile. “Looks like you can’t do anything without me.” He steps inside, the door closing and locking automatically behind him. “What a lost baby you are.” He coos. 

You roll your eyes, ignoring how your stomach flutters with his condescending tone. You must be going crazy, liking the way he talks to you? Yeah, you must be going crazy. “Just help me out, ‘Kuna.” You turn your back to him. 

“Yeah.” Sukuna places his hand on your lower back, pinching the zipper to your dress. He thinks it’s cute, a small heart pendant that matches your skin perfectly. “This looks nice on you.” His mouth is near your ear, and you feel the dress tighten around your chest. 

“You haven’t even looked at it.” You mumble back, placing a hand over your chest, “And, it’s like really tight on my chest.” You giggle, “I don’t think it fits.” 

Sukuna looks at you over your shoulder, glancing at your reflection. “Looks good.” He murmurs, eyes drinking up how wonderful you look in your dress. “I like when things are off the shoulder… easy access.” He runs his lips over your shoulder, pressing kisses against your skin. 

You shake your head, naturally leaning into Sukuna. “Can you…” You thickly swallow, a slow exhale leaving your lips, “Like not, for one second.” You feel your lashes flutter, “We’re in–” 

“Public.” Sukuna finishes for you, “But, isn’t that what makes it fun? Knowing that we can get caught?” He lets his hands travel down your body, “Five minutes.” He presses another kiss into your shoulder, “Give me five minutes.” His tone is… desperate, almost begging in a way. 

It makes your mind a bit hazy, turning to look at him. “One minute.” Your hands are on his shoulders, stabilizing yourself. 

Sukuna kisses your forehead, smiling as he mumbles, “Three minutes.” 

You narrow your eyes, tilting your head back and gritting out, “Thirty seconds.”

Sukuna obnoxiously sighs, slouching into himself, “Fine, one minute.” You giggle, lifting yourself on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips to his. Sukuna grabs your chin, pulling on your bottom lips to slide his tongue in your mouth, adoring the way your hands tighten around his shoulder. 

You pull back, looking past his body. Sukuna naturally leans close again to kiss you, but you press your lips together. “I feel like we’re being loud.” You whisper, your face feeling hot. “Can you like… not–” 

“Kiss you that loud?” Sukuna snorts, but that laugh is cut short when your palm presses over his mouth. 

“Shh!” You shake your head, a small but embarrassed smile on your lips. “People are going to hear us.” You whisper, moving your hand from his mouth to the collar of his shirt. “Mostly you. I swear…” 

“I’d fuck you here if you’d let me.” Sukuna says, his eyes half-lidded. “I’d do so much shit for you if you’d let me.” He kisses you again, and with his desire filled words, along with his skilled hands, you give in. Not bothered that someone can hear the sloppy kiss ensuing between the two of you. 

Sukuna’s hands moving to your ass, then to the back of the dress. Unzipping it from your body and pulling it down your frame, the fabric pooling at your feet. You feel yourself gasp, eyes widening with realization. Holy shit, wait, you’re wearing–

Sukuna breaks away from you, and you’re tempted to press your hand over his eyes, but you keep them firmly on his shoulder. Diverting your eyes as he bluntly eyes your body, the way your lacy underwear hugs your hips, and your bra digs into your soft tits. 

“Fuck.” Sukuna instantly kisses you again, grabbing your waist and pulling you alongside him, plopping you on top of his lap as he sits on the seat. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy.” He mumbles against your lips. 

You giggle, moving your hands to pull at the straps of your bra. “Mhm? You like it?” You run your tongue over his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth and softly sucking on it.

“Fuck yeah.” Sukuna pushing his hips into your pussy, “Don’t you feel it? Don’t you feel what you do to me?” He drops his head, kissing your neck and softly sucking on your skin, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make your body shiver. “Can I see ‘em?” He’s begging, his tone a bit more high pitched, and the tips of his ears red. 

His tone makes you dizzy, and you feel drunk of his words. You nod your head, your glossy bottom lip tucked between your teeth, and tug down the cups of your bra. Exposing your skin to Sukuna, and you can feel his dick twitch beneath you. 

You whimper. 

“Fuck yeah.” He groans, his hips twitching. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long.” He wraps his lips around your nipple, his tongue circling around your sensitive nerves. 

You slap your hand over your mouth, arching your back into Sukuna. He smirks, “What? You like it when I do this?” He whisper, his voice raspy and deep, “You like when you get me hard in public, wanting to fuck you so everyone in this fuckin’ store can hear how good I make you feel?” 

“Why can’t you ever shut up.” You mumble back, rolling your hips into his dick. Straining uncomfortable against his Sukunas, a very visible dick print in his pants. “I swear, you always–” 

“You wet?” He mumbles, running a long stipe from the bottom of your tit, to the top of your collar bone. “Your pussy a droolin’ mess right now, huh? Wet, and waiting to be stuffed with my fat cock?” 

You feel your hips twitch, and you don’t mean to, you really don’t, but you nod. You look at him with your bright shiny eyes, hand clutching his chest, while you lean over for a kiss, nodding your head without a true thought other than Sukuna. “Please, I want you so bad, ‘Kuna.” 

You can feel his cock twitching between your lips, thick and hard. You subtly suck on your bottom lip, it’s coated with Sukuna’s and your saliva. You thickly swallow, your pupils blown. You really just want him inside of you, you want to feel the head of his cock deep inside your throat, your tongue sliding around his girth. Or, his cock spliting you open and he rams his cock inside your pussy. 

Your bottom lip wiggles, “Can I–can I…” You whimper, I want to suck his dick. 

Sukuna feels his jaw tick, but before he can so much as skim his finger over your sensitive clit, someone knocks at the door. “Is everything fitting alright in there?” An associate. 

Yet, Sukuna isn’t even given the chance to respond when you push your lips against him, ensuing a messy kiss between the two of you. His eyes practically rolling with how desperate and aggressive you’re being from a few words. 

Fuck, you’re so… perfect. 

You finally pull away, a catty smirk on your lips as you whisper against his lips, “I don’t like the dress.” You pick up your original dress, slipping it over your body. Sukuna’s still looking at you, “And, I’m hungry, can we wrap this up?” 

Sukuna feels his eyes twitch–well, that’s not the only thing twitching–and scoffs at you. So, now you’re toying with him. Right. Sukuna takes a moment to regroup, before responding, “Yeah, we didn’t like the dress.” 

There’s still a smug smile on your lips as you giggle at his almost dumbfounded expression, you move it close, swiping your thumb over his bottom lip. “You have a little something here.” 

Sukuna bites the inside of his cheek, watching you turn away from him and slipping his hard erection into the waistband of his boxers. If you want to play that game, keep doing it. Fine, he’ll play along to this little game you’re seeming to pull. 

Sukuna has never considered himself a masochist, but being around you is starting to feel like torture. A small ich in the back of his head which he can never scratch unless you're touching him, or begging him to touch you. 

Maybe, just maybe, he likes you a bit more than he originally thought. Which… is saying something. 

— 

You reply to a text Nobara had sent you a while ago, ignoring the obvious way Sukuna seems… pent up, as he stands right next to you. You place your head on his shoulder, leaning your weight on him while your fingers tap diligently at your screen.

“Happy with yourself.” Sukuna mumbles underneath his breath. 

“Mhm.” You turn off your phone, tucking it into his front pocket. “Very proud, actually.” You play with his fingers, toying with the gold ring decorating his ring finger. “You have really nice hands, by the way..” You slightly add. 

Sukuna huffs, but it sounds more like a laugh rather than an annoyed sigh. He shakes his head as he turns away, “You’re so weird.” 

“It’s me flirting with you.”

Sukuna scratching the back of his neck while mumbling, “No wonder you’re single.” 

You slap his arm, “Heard that.” 

“Didn’t say anything.” 

“Mhm, sure.” You roll your eyes, following at Sukuna’s side as he moves to the cashier. And as much as you don’t want to, you’re looking at the monitor displaying the price of everything that is to be scanned. 

Sukuna notices. In fact, he knew you would be aware and looking at the price. 

The woman tilts her head with a smile, “Can I get a name?” Sukuna says your name again, which makes the woman dip her head under the counter, looking for your items. “Also, will you be using cash or credit with this purchase?”

“Credit.” Sukuna currently responds, but you can see him patting his pockets from the corner of your eye, his hand landing on your phone, and pulling it out. He curses underneath his breath, “Shit, I think I left my phone in the dressing room.” He raises his eyes to your face, placing a hand on your head, “Can you go grab it for me?” 

You pout, but nod your head nonetheless. 

Sukuna nods in approval, “That’s my girl.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ll be waiting for you.” You hesitate to move, looking at the register, then back to the area of the dressing rooms. He taps your arm reassuringly, “C’mon, go grab it for me.” 

You feel your heart flutter, but don’t let him see it, muttering a small, “Fine.” Before making your way to the dressing room. You enter the room the two of you were in not even a few minutes ago, glancing over the area and looking for his phone. 

You can’t see it, which makes you huff in frustration. You’re rushing a bit, trying to see how much money Sukuna is wasting on you. Hopefully, you can actually pay him back a bit, maybe take him to an expensive dinner. 

You move to the seat, glancing at the crack between the wall and the soft velvet. It isn’t there. 

You drop to your knees, tilting your head to the side to see if it fell down on the floor. It isn’t there. 

You look at the seat again, resting on your knees. It isn’t there. 

You look around the room, seeing if it fell… anywhere else, but… it isn’t there. It isn’t here.

Did someone steal it? You furrow your eyebrows. Maybe, that’s how I can pay him back, by buying him a new phone. You probably need to get a job, again. 

You leave the room, but not before passing it a final glance, hoping his phone would magically appear in the middle of the room. Unfortunately, it doesn't, so you’re forced to leave empty handed. 

You’re thinking of ways to tell Sukuna he may need to return the things he just bought you in favor of a new phone, but your thoughts come to a halt. In fact, your whole body comes to a halt. 

Your heart drops into the hole that opened up below you. 

Just like Sukuna said, he’s waiting for you at the entrance. A small bag in his hands, stuffed with tissue paper, and his hand tucked into his pocket. But, standing next to him, is a blonde woman. 

She’s saying something to him, but you can’t hear it. It could be the distance between the three of you, or the soft music the store is playing. It could be both, but you shake it off, pushing yourself forward. 

She doesn’t scare you. Sukuna doesn’t even like her, he likes you, so you shouldn’t be worried or intimated. Sukuna starts saying something back to her, and much to your dismay, you only pick up on the last thing he tells her.

“–and you’re ugly, so.” Sukuna shrugs. 

That makes you abruptly laugh, pulling the attention of both of them to you. You blink a few times in embarrassment, before waving a kind hello at her. “Hey, I remember you.” You giggle sweetly, “You’re the crazy… ‘ex,’ right?” You add air quotes. 

Her eyes twitch, a promite scowl on her lips. “Oh, this tacky piece of–”

“Here.” Sukuna hands you the bag, “Don’t worry about her, she wouldn’t leave me alone.” You swear you can hear him mutter, ‘Annoyin’ ass bitch.’ Under his breath, before asking, “You ready to go eat?” 

You smile, nodding your head, not passing the girl a second glance. “Yeah, I’ve been starving.” You loop your arms around his, resting your head on him. “Good to know. I can’t believe she’s trying to get back with you.” You flash her a smile when he pulls you away, adding a sweet, “Such a pathetic attempt to use, too.” 

She’s dumbfounded, unsure of how to respond, but she doesn’t even get the chance to respond because the two of you are long gone. As much as Sukuna doesn’t want to talk about what happened, he knows you want to. 

You tilt your head at him, slightly pulling away from him in favor of curling your fingers around his hand. “What did she want?” 

“She wanted to hook up.” 

“Oh.” You look away from him, “Well, what did you say?” 

“Nothing that you wouldn’t be aware of.” He squeezes your hand, ignoring your confused look. “C’mon, use that pretty head. I’m sure you can figure out what that means.” 

You pout, not bothering to dwindle on it for too long. “I thought you’re the type to like to make me jealous? Why didn’t you do that this time?” 

Sukuna pinches your cheek, a bit hard. “You weren’t around.” 

You close one of your eyes, pulling away from his touch. “What does that mean?” You use your free hand to rub the cheek he pinched, muttering a small, “Ow.” 

“If you aren’t around to be jealous, then there isn’t any point to entertaining any other girl.” He rolls his eyes, scowling to himself. “Besides, she’s annoyin’ as hell.” Sukuna can feel your gaze on him, it’s cute, you look like you’re a bit flattered. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes, grabbing his sunglasses from the top of your head and flipping them down over your eyes. It’s a bit of a separation. Separating him from what? He doesn’t know what exactly. “Don’t let it get to your head.” 

You laugh to yourself, “Too late. Oh!” You tug on his hand, “I couldn’t find your phone, so… I think we may need to return what you bought me to get you a new one.” 

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, a bit confused, before closing his eyes and subtly laughing to himself. “No, I don’t need to do that.” He looks straight again, “I–uh, It ended up being in my pocket the whole time, so don’t worry.” 

“Oh.” You feel your eyes furrow, before opening your mouth again. 

“We have reservations at six thirty, which means we still have little over an hour to burn.” Sukuna doesn’t even let you respond, “Anything you have in mind?” 

“Not really.” You look around the mall, trying to think of something to take up time. Something that would take time, and isn’t necessary to spend money on. You come to a quick realization that nothing is possible without having to put down at least some form of payment. 

Bummer. Maybe, you can pay for a karaoke room, or some credits at an arcade… 

“Actually, I have an idea.” 

You take a few steps away from Sukuna in caution, much like a cat backing away from a barking dog. “I don’t think I’m excited.” 

Sukuna laughs, stuffing his hands into his pocket, “You shouldn’t be.” 

—

Over an hour later, and a fresh set of french tip nails, you’re sitting across Sukuna in another fancy restaurant. The booth you’re sitting at is on the second story, and has an amazing view of the people walking outside below. You can see some clouds crowding over the sky, and can’t help but wonder if it’s going to rain. 

You turn back to Sukuna, looking at your nails again. “I think I need to get my nails done more often.” You mumble, clearly admiring them with the bracelet and ring Sukuna bought you not too long ago. 

You didn’t even know the set came with a ring, but you’re not complaining. It’s gorgeous. Easily one of the most valuable things you now own. 

“D’you like it?” Sukuna asks nonchalantly, eyes also trained on your hands decorated with the fresh jewelry. 

“Mhm.” You lower your hand, grabbing your drink. “It’s nice, Sukuna, I really like it.” You take a sip, and add a quick, “Thank you.” Almost embarrassed to say it aloud. Sukuna leans back his chair, hands resting in his lap. He doesn’t respond, nor does he give any indication to hearing what you just said. That makes you even more embarrassed, “Hey, asshole, I said thank you.” You huff, “Can you say something back?... Please?” 

Sukuna tries to hide it, but you can see him fighting the start of a smile, “I heard you.” He grabs his drink, an alcoholic beverage of his choice, “I know you’re thankful, don’t need to tell me.” You pout, which makes him laugh, “Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart, I know you can’t handle putting your ego aside.” 

“Oh, you’re one to talk.” You bite back, “Last time I checked, our biggest argument was over you refusing to–” 

“Don’t remind me.” Sukuna says, “Besides, I’m trying to mak–” He pauses, cutting himself off, before taking another sip of his drink.

You bite the side of your cheek, smiling to yourself. “Okay.” You play with your shoes, your feet toying with your heels. “Do you like my nails?” You flip them to him, it’s your third time asking this question, but you like his response. 

“I already told you what I think about your nails.” 

You flaunt your fingers, “I want to hear it again.” 

“Yes. They’re nice.” Sukuna grabs your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of your palm. Your stomach flutters from it, it feels so… loving. A single act done between two lovers, and a part of you craves more of it. “I can get them for you more often, if you like them.” 

“It’s weird seeing you like this.” You softly say, pulling your hand back and resting it in your lap. “I feel like you’re going to poison my food, or something.” 

Sukuna rolls his eyes, jutting a thumb in a normal direction. “Yeah, let me just sneak into the kitchen.” 

You nod, an eager smile growing on your lips. “Let me come with you, maybe we can recreate the Lady Gaga music video from Telephone.” You point an accusing finger at Sukuna, “Wait, only if you let me be beyonce–no, I want to be Lady Gaga.” You look to the side, thinking again, “No, I’m a liar, Beyonce.” 

Sukuna snorts, resting his head on the palm of his hand. “You’re so weird.” He mumbles, before quickly correcting it to, “You’re so different.” 

You feel your expression fall, eyes narrowed at him. “Wow. Thanks.” 

“I’m not insulting you.” He takes his drink in his hand, swirling the liquid in the cup. “Just… stating an observation.” His full attention is on you, and it feels a bit overwhelming. 

You laugh, feeling a bit tense, and joking, “Is that why you like me?” 

“I don’t…” Sukuna pauses, diverting his eyes from you, before looking away, “Nevermind.” He mumbles into his palm, “I’m just saying it’s… I don’t know, relaxing? Doesn't feel like you’re being fake.” 

“Why would I be?” You tilt your head to the side, “I mean, sure, I wasn’t your biggest fan when we first met, but I didn’t… completely hate you.” You lean forward, supporting your head with the back of your hand underneath your chin. “It was like, seventy-six percent.” You’re smiling. 

Sukuna laughs a little bit, “I didn’t completely hate you either.” He pretends to think, “It was… ninety seven percent.” 

“I’m changing my answer. It was ninety-nine percent.” You shake your head, “But, uhm, yeah. I don’t know, you were annoying, but I always sort of… liked you, in a weird way.”

Sukuna gives you a boyish look, “Yeah?” 

You look at him, a soft expression on your face. Content. “Yeah.” You play with your bracelet, running the tip of your fingers over the gems. “Is this your way of calling me special?” 

“Not at all.” Sukuna watches as your eyebrows furrow, you’re always so expressive. “I’m insulting you, actually.” 

“Such a lover boy.” You sarcastically add, but your attention is drawn away from him when your phone vibrates. You’re tempted to look at it, but you know it’s rude to–

“The blonde girl texted me.” Sukuna softly says, a very clear bothered expression on his face. “I can’t believe she got another number.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, glaring at him. “You know, it’s considered rude when you’re on your phone during a date, ‘Kuna.” You’re tempted to snatch the phone away from him. You don’t know if it’s because you’re jealous, or upset he’s on his phone during your dat…

You feel the color from your face drain. Wait. You didn’t say that. You didn’t just say that to Sukuna’s face. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, searching for Sukuna’s expression. But, there’s nothing, not any form of emotion or indication to disagreement–or agreement–to what you just said. 

“Yeah, but I’m not actually on it.” Sukuna says, “I’m just checking a notification.” 

Is he… agreeing with you? Does this mean that this really is a date? Telling Nobara and Yuuj is one thing. But, having Sukuna blatantly agree with you, is a completely different thing. 

You cross one foot over the other, trying to look at his screen, but he puts his phone face down on the table. “What did she say?” 

Sukuna slides his phone to you, “Check.” 

You nod, grabbing the phone and pulling it into your lap. “You know, I thought you would be more secretive with your phone.” You flip it right side up, clicking the unopened text message, quickly putting in Sukuna’s password which you happened to remember. 

“Nah. I don’t really have anything on my phone I would want to hide.” Sukuna leans his head back, “Well, nothing from you at least. Maybe from Uraume or Yuu, though.” 

“I thought Uraume knew everything about you.” You open the message, cringing at the abrasive text about you. 

“They do.” Sukuna nods to himself, “They know how I like my food, and what happened when I was younger, but that’s… all.” 

“Hm.” You turn off the phone again, “Apparently I’m a… ‘selfish bitch,’ who… ‘can’t keep my hands off what doesn’t belong to me.’” You scoff, “Are you cheating on me, ‘Kuna? Or, did I really snatch you away from this girl?” 

Sukuna shakes his head, “Gross. Don’t even fuckin’ joke about that.” He sighs, rubbing his temples. “I can’t believe I let her over.” 

You furrow your eyebrows in thought, wait a minute… “Wait, what’s her name?” You laugh to yourself, feeling almost a tiny bit bad. “I just realized, this whole time I’ve known her, I don’t even know her name.” 

“She knows your name.” Sukuna says without a thought, “She wouldn’t stop talking about you when she was over for a project.” You hear him mumble, “It’s actually sad how obsessed she is with you.” 

“Maybe, I should go date her then.” You joke, taking a sip of your drink. “It honestly seems that she likes me more than you do.” 

“You think so?” 

“You just said she’s obsessed with me.” You mutter, twirling your straw. “I need the person who likes me, to be absolutely obsessed with me, ‘Kuna. They shouldn’t be able to function without me.” 

Sukuna gives you a half smile, “Yeah?” 

“If you like me, why aren’t you obsessed with me?” You tear your gaze away from Sukuna when your waiter comes to your side with your food, sliding a plate of your favorite steak. 

“Maybe, I am.” 

You snap your head up, “Wait, what did you say?” 

Sukuna shakes his head, passing you a confused look. “Nothing.” He silently thanks the waiter with a head nod, “What did you say?” 

You roll your eyes, “I hate–” Sukuna raises his eyebrows. “Ugh, nevermind.” You wave it off, “But, seriously, what’s her name?” You pick up your fork and knife, “I just realized I’ve been beefing with a girl I don’t even know the name of.” 

Sukuna parts his lips, but then looks to the side, scratching his chin in thought. “Actually…” He hides a smile, cutting a piece of steak and placing it in his mouth. “I don’t… know.” 

“You slept with someone you don’t even know the name of?” You gawk, cutting into your meat in a similar manner. “Jesus, Sukuna, I didn’t think of you like that.” You tease. 

“I’m sure I did when… ugh…” He shakes his head in disgust, “I can’t remember it.” He shrugs, “Who cares. She’s the past.” 

You hum thoughtfully, “What’s my name?” 

Sukuna doesn't even look at you when your name leaves his mouth, quick and without a second thought. In fact, it comes so naturally to him, he doesn’t even stop from cutting into his food. “Why?” 

Knowing that he knows your name, and can’t even remember the other girl… That makes you feel good. There’s a subtle smile growing on your lips, and Sukuna notices it. 

You take a fry from his plate, “Tell me more about you, ‘Kuna.” You scoot closer to him, 

“You know more about me then I know about you.” He leans back, “Why don’t you tell me somethin’ about you instead.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “I thought I talked too much?” 

Sukuna laughs, and it’s genuine. “You do.” 

“Hypocrite.” You point at him with your fork, “You’re setting me up for failure here.” 

“I don’t mind you talking.” Sukuna says, “You just… never stop talking.” 

“You’re making me insecure.” You look at your food, “You’re supposed to not make me insecure.” 

Sukuna tilts his head, “I thought I was obsessed with you?” 

“…You are.” Your voice waivers. 

“Then, don’t get in your head.” Sukuna shrugs. 

You don’t say anything for a moment, before slowly saying, “I still think you’re setting me up for failure.” You shake your head, “No, delusion is the better word here.” And you’re not even talking to Nobara, someone who agrees with you no matter how crazy. 

“You are delusional.” 

I’m very delusional, but you don’t tell Sukuna that. “You know, for agreeing with me all the time, you’re never right.” You sigh, pushing your hair out of your face. “But, what do you want to know about me?” 

“Why’d you put up with me for so long?” Sukuna says underneath his breath, but quickly adds, “Why did you decide to become president of the ASL club? You’re not–completely–deaf.”

“Not everyone who learns ASL is deaf, ‘Kuna. I’m sure you saying that has to be some sort of… I don’t know, hate crime or something.” You laugh to yourself, ignoring Sukuna’s eye roll, before continuing, “Uh, but, I started learning about it because of my mom.” You push a vegetable on your plate with your fork. 

Sukuna nods his head, “You’re also learning about Kinesiology because of your family, right? Tryin’ to become a physical therapist.” 

You almost forget why, and how Sukuna knows that, but your mind travels to the dinner you shared with his grandpa. “Yes.” You play with your bracelet, “I mean, what I told you grandpa was true, somewhat.” 

“Somewhat?” 

“I didn’t tell him… everything.” You pop the base of your heel off your foot, “Sorry…” 

Sukuna shrugs, “Don’t apologize, that shit gets annoying. Not everything is somethin’ you need to apologize for.” He rolls his eyes, “In fact, my old man should be apologizing, tryin’ to get up in your personal life. So annoying.” 

You shake your head, “Well, uh… I want to become a physical therapist because of my mom.” The restaurant feels silent, the only thing you can hear is your mom’s voice in the back of your head. “I've wanted to become one since middle school.”

Sukuna doesn’t say anything for a minute, which you appreciate. He’s giving you time to regroup. “You don’t like talking about your family.” Sukuna’s full attention is on you, “Did something happen between you?” 

“No.” You bit the corner of your lip, eyes fluttering slightly. “I… love my family, more than anything.” You don’t know how you feel about Sukuna asking you so many questions, but… knowing that he wants to get to you, makes you feel a pocket-size amount of happiness. 

Sukuna grabs the vegetable from your plate, and pops it into his mouth. “Why didn’t you move in with them?” 

You’re sure the question isn’t meant to be mean, so you don’t let it get to you. “They live in a different state. So, it would be a bit impossible.” You laugh, “I actually visited them the week before I moved in with you.” 

Sukuna nods, “Yeah? How’d that go?” 

“I–” You squeeze into yourself, “Did I ever tell you why I started learning ASL?” 

“I’m assuming it's also the same reason you’re becoming a physical therapist.” 

You laugh, nodding your head. “Yeah. My… uh, my mom has been struggling…” You take a deep breath, “I feel bad, I feel like telling you this is going to ruin the mood.” 

“Probably.”

“You’re not helping!” You turn away, but fight off a smile. You sigh, before looking at your food, “Well, uh, I’ve wanted to become one since middle school, since that’s when my mother first started… uhm, experiencing seizures.” 

Sukuna seems taken aback by this, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. “Really?” He takes a sip of his drink, “Do you know the reason?” His tone is… different. It’s more distinguishable than it’s ever been before. No–that’s a lie. It sounds exactly how he did when telling you about his past. He sounds…vulnerable. 

“Uh, we don’t know exactly, but we think it may be some form of epilepsy.” You smile to yourself, and it’s a way to comfort the twisting feeling in your stomach. “I was–I was home the first time it happened, back in middle school.” You reach over and steal another fry from his plate. “I didn’t know what to do when it happened.” 

“I’m sure no one would at your age.” He places another fry on your plate, “Sounds terrifying.” 

You nod your head meekly, “Yeah, it was.” You thickly swallow, “But, uhm… I’m fine–it’s fine now.” You tap your foot on the ground, “Well, I mean, she still deals with seizures, but it’s way less frequent.” You awkwardly laugh to yourself, “I—they’re still scary, and rare, but I know how to handle them as an adult.” Even if you need to come home for a short amount of time to make sure, without a questionable doubt, your mom is indeed okay, and not going to leave you forever. 

“I couldn’t imagine.” Sukuna says, his features soft. 

“Yeah, uhm, but…” You push your hair out of your face, shaking your head slightly. “My dad was home that day, thank god, and ended up taking her to the hospital. I couldn’t come, but waiting in the house for them to come back… honestly I wish he would’ve just taken me with him.” You half smile, “It was horrible.” 

You can remember the thoughts rushing through your head like the event happened yesterday. How much you blame yourself, and how mad you were for not doing anything, even though there was nothing you could do. You thought that your mother would abandon you for not helping, or disown you for standing a few feet away from her with tears streaming down your cheeks. Not only that, but you thought she was never going to come back from the hospital. You thought that was going to be the last time you saw her. 

You press your lips together, feeling them wiggle ever so slightly. 

“She came back.” There’s something somber in Sukuna’s tone, but you wouldn’t be able to pick it up with any form of expression on his face. Part of you wonders if it hurts Sukuna to hear you talk about your family, or anything related to closeness. 

“Yeah.” You nod softly, “She came back.” 

Sukuna lets out a breath. 

“But, she was different.” You move your hand to your face, cupping your jaw delicately. “She looked different. She wasn't my mom. Or, so I originally thought.” You thickly swallow, hand still rubbing your face. “I grew up with a mom who would quirk her face in the most interesting way to the littlest things. Her smile–god…” You smile to yourself, “Her smile could light up a room, Sukuna, I adored it more than anything.” 

“You’re like that.” Sukuna says without a thought, “It’s really funny. You’re very expressive.” He rests his head on the back of his hand, “I’m sure you took that from your mother.” 

You beam, “Thanks.” You push your meat around on your plate, “But, in my younger twelve year old mind, I thought she was a different person. She wasn’t… mom.” You gesture your hand to your face, “She couldn’t–she couldn’t move her face, and it seemed… heavy.” You narrow your eyes, “It weighed down.” 

Sukuna nods. 

“Turns out the seizure ended up paralyzing her face.” You place your weight on your side, “She couldn’t really move anymore–I mean, obviously, but… it was weird, you know? Seeing someone so expressive not be able to move their face?” 

Sukuna can imagine that. He experienced it with his brother, after their argument. He went from a bubbling boy, to someone who couldn't so much as crack a polite smile. “Yeah, I understand.” 

“Not only that, but she couldn’t talk anymore. I mean–she could, but it wasn’t the same. It was hard, and… muffled. It was painful.” You play with the ends of your hair, “So, my dad would always put aside some time to massage her temples, jaw, anything that was uncomfortable.” You nod to yourself, “And, like I said, she could talk, but she was… she wasn’t comfortable talking.” You’re mom only expressed her embarrassment to speak due to her paralysis when you were in highschool, and it broke your heart. 

It’s your mom. 

“So, she wanted to learn a different way to communicate with people. One that didn’t, you know…” You point at your lips, “Involve mouths. So, that was my introduction into ASL.” You look outside, watching people pass you by. “I mean, it’s fascinating, no? A universal way of communicating.” 

“You work with children that are deaf, too.” Sukuna says, trying to learn more information. 

“Oh, absolutely.” You beam, “I love children, and while I’m thankfully my mom isn’t deaf, many people are. So, if I already knew the language, why not honor it in some way of giving back to the community.” You look away, a bit sheepishly, “It sounds like I’m boasting, but I’m not… I’m just… incredibly thankful. I want to… pay my respects, I guess.” 

Sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off you, if anything, from a stranger's perspective, it would look as if he’s admiring you right now. “Why’s that?” 

“Well, like I said, my mom seemed different, but she wasn’t.” You move your hands to the seat, “She’s always been the same person, but she found a different way to be expressive. A different way to be herself.” You move your hands to hug yourself, a content expression on your face. “She found a different way to love me. Even if it was silent.” 

“You’re…” He looks to the side, “You’re a good person, you’re better than me.” He places his utensils down. You didn’t even notice he finished his food, shit, you should really hurry up and finish yours now. “It’s admirable. No wonder you and Yuuji get along so well.” 

“I love Yuuji.” You mutter with fondness, “But, yeah, that’s why I wanted to help teach people how to speak in a universal way. So, everyone can communicate and express themselves. No matter what their language, or situation is.” You laugh to yourself, making a mouth with your hand, “Sometimes, words are some of the hardest things to express, you know?” 

Sukuna sighs, nodding his head with exasperation, “Oh, I know.” He lightly kicks you under the table, it doesn’t hurt, but it’s clear he’s messing with you. “I mean, that’s why you were mad at me for a week. Just because you couldn’t say you had a thing for me.” 

“I didn’t—“ You huff, taking a final bite of your food, and pushing your plate away. “I think you’re going crazy, absolutely insane.” You shake your head, “But, yeah, that’s the “tragic” story behind my life. I’m not too mentally unstable.”

Sukuna nods, “I’m sure.” He looks to the side for a moment, “But, I’m… It’s good to know more about you now.” He doesn’t know how to phrase what he wants to say, but from the humble look on your face, he’s thankful you understand.  

You lean back, patting your stomach, “But, I’m full.” You mumble, melting into your seat. “I’m dying to take a nap, or walk around or something.” Your eyes widen with excitement, “Oh my god, what if we went to a trampoline park? I can do some amazing flips.” You boast.

“I’ll get the check.” Sukuna looks to the side, peering past the seat of your side of the booth. “Should I take some dessert to go? Maybe you’ll get hungry after all the jumping.” 

You immediately want to say yes, but you already don’t feel good with how much money he’s spending on you, so you say, “It’s okay, I’m already full.” You stretch dramatically, “I think I’ll be good to be honest, if anything I can just buy some snacks from a convenience store or something.” 

“If that’s what you want.” Sukuna dismisses, trying to ignore the voice barking in the back of his head who noticed you eyeing the cookie cake. 

You nod, also looking to the side to see if you could spot a server, and when you do, an idea pops into the back of your head. Not only that, but you also pop your heel off your right foot. “Oh.” You point behind Sukuna, “I see our waiter, want me to flag him over?” 

“No. It’s fine.” Sukuna turns over his shoulder, making clear eye contact with the male. You take this time to scoot closer to the table, lifting your foot. You can’t help but smile at the waiter when he comes over, batting your eyelashes innocently at him. 

Sukuna thinks it’s a bit odd, but doesn’t dwindle on it for too long. “Uh, we’re ready for…” He pauses for a second, before, “Actually, I was hoping if we could take the cookie cake to go?” 

A part of you now feels bad for what you’re about to do, but you’re already dedicated to the bit, and can’t back down now. Sorry Sukuna. 

The waiter nods, “Of course, I can add that to your bill here.” 

Sukuna nods, “Yeah, that would be–” He stills, almost stumbling over his words, but he catches himself. His eyes landed on you, before nodding his head, “Uh, yes, please do that.” You slide your foot further up his leg, resting it comfortably on his knee. 

The waiter nods again, this time a beaming smile on his lips. “Of course.” He points in the direction of the kitchen, “Do you also want me to get you a to-go box? Pack everything you didn’t finish?” 

Sukuna thickly swallows, feeling the pressure slowly trail up into his inner thigh. Before resting right over his crotch, applying an amount of pressure that accidentally makes his eye flutter. He shakes his head, “No, we’re–we finished everything, it’s okay.” He lowers his hand, gripping your ankle with a fair amount of pressure. “Get the check.” 

The waiter seems a bit put off by Sukuna’s abruptness, but doesn’t dwindle on it for too long. He merely nods again, “I’ll go get your cake, and the check.” Then, he’s off again, leaving you and Sukuna alone in the booth. 

Sukuna’s glaring at you, and you’re trying to hide a smile. You finally look at him, batting your eyelashes innocently, “What? Is somethin’ wrong?” You wiggle your foot in his grasp, his finger ever so slightly slipping underneath your sock. 

“I’ll kill you.” Sukuna says, “No, that’s a lie.” He lets his other hand trail over your calf, running the tips of his fingers over your shin. “If you want to play dirty, I’ll make it filthy.” He lets his fingers trail further down your leg, and goosebumps emerge from your skin. 

It feels good.

You thickly swallow, subconsciously scooting closer to the table in an attempt to get Sukuna to touch more of you. “Really?” You hum, fluttering your lashes at him, and Sukuna must be a saint from how much self control he has. “I think I play nice for you, ‘Kuna.” 

Sukuna feels his fingers twitch around you, along with something else not too far away from that. If it were up to him–if you would let him–he would fuck you right here on the table. “Yeah.” He whispers, leaning closer to the table and adding, “You want me to fuck you here? Make your little clit all red and sensitive? Nothin' but sweet thoughts about how good I’m making you feel?” 

You hate–love–what his words do to you. “Maybe…” You mumble, eyes almost rolling at that thought of Sukuna–

“Too bad.” Sukuna quickly pulls your foot, making you almost fall underneath the table. Your forearms resting on the seat, while your lower body completely under the wood, your foot and calf now perfectly resting in his lap. 

Which, consequently, is exactly when your waiter decided to come back with the cookie cake and the bill. You make eye contact with him, your body below the chest hidden by the table. You pass him an awkward smile, trying to pull yourself back up, but due to Sukuna’s firm gaps, you’re positively stuck. 

The waiter places the bill on the table, along with the cutely packaged cookie cake. “Uh, are you–uh, are you okay?” He tilts his head, “Should I call for–” 

“She’s fine.” Sukuna takes the bill with his free hand, “This is actually an intervention, and she’s just relapsing.” 

Your jaw drops, but you quickly rebut with, “Says the one who was shooting cocaine off my ass before we entered!” You turn to the waiter, “You should’ve seen it, it was a long line, too.”

Sukuna’s smiling, shaking his head while handing the server a hearty amount of money. “Keep the change.” He pushes your foot off him, sliding off the booth. 

You giggle, shimming your foot into your heel and quickly following after him, but not before adding, “You might want to wash those.” You pass the waiter a playful wink, before grabbing onto Sukuna’s arm. You can hear Sukuna laughing besides you, pushing the door open for the two of you. “I hope you tipped him well.” You shiver from the cold air biting at your skin. 

“I did, don’t worry.” Sukuna shakes his head with a final smile, “Besides, I’m pretty sure those were my coke dollars.” 

You feel your eyes widen, “You’re joking.”

Sukuna pinches your nose, “Of course I am.” 

You let out a breath of relief, “I was about to say.” You glance back at the restaurant, “We might’ve actually re-created the Telephone video by accident.” 

“Oh yeah, with a few coke dollars.” Sukuna sarcastically adds, “Sure, might as well start dancing right now.” He pulls out his phone, flashing the camera on you. 

“Telephone!” You make a phone with your hand, smiling into the camera. But, your smile falls, your eyes shrinking from the bright light. “I can’t believe you record with flash.” You lean in close to his camera, your eyes practically touching it, “You’re really weird.” 

“Says the one yelling ‘telephone,’ like an idiot.” Sukuna laughs at how the camera distorts your face from so close, “I’m sending this to Yuuji, he’s going to laugh at you.” He stops filming, and it takes you a moment to readjust to the lack of light. 

“He’s going to love it.” You giggle, “If anything, Yuuji is going to be rushing to come join me.” 

“He would always fiend over Just Dance.” Sukuna groans, rolling his eyes discreetly, “It was the one video game I could never beat him at.” 

“Wait, we have Just Dance at the house?” You narrow your eyes at Sukuna, poking his arm, “The fact you haven’t told me about this until now has to be a crime.”

“I'll get your own Just Dance.”

You giggle, resting your head on his bicep, “You get it Sukuna.” You look around, blinking innocently. “But, are we going home now? We’ve been out for some time now.” You can’t deny how your feet are starting to ache from your heels. It’s not too bad, but it’s noticeable. . 

“Still got one more thing to do.” 

You softly sigh, slouching into yourself, “Okay.” 

—

The sound of distant Christmas music is playing, accompanied by the decorations of the building with Christmas lights. “I didn’t know the city did this.” You feel breathless, glancing over the lights decorating the town. “Maybe I need to get out of the house more…”

“Every year when it’s December.” Sukuna leans on the wall behind you, letting you admire the center plaza of the city. The massive tree decorated with Christmas lights, and a massive golden star at the top. “People come together and put ornaments on the tree.”

You snap your head to look at Sukuna over your shoulder, “And we don’t have one?!” You narrow your eyes to him, “People are totally going to be judging us now that we don’t have something to put on the tree.” 

“You can buy something to put on the tree.” Sukuna points to a small building not too far from you, “There’s a small business that allows you to pick out little ornaments to put on the three.” 

“That’s so cute!” You grab his arm, “We should do that!” Before Sukuna can respond, you’re pulling his hand behind you to the small store. But, you stop, “Actually, you wait here, I’ll pick something out.” 

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows, “But–” 

“Trust me.” You point at him sternly, “Don’t follow me.” You don’t need him paying for anything else. 

Sukuna shoves his hands into his pockets, your small shopping bag resting right at his wrist. “Bossy.” 

You’re quick to glance over the ornaments, trying to pick out something fast to not leave Sukuna waiting for too long. You can feel the dread of remembering what happened last time creeping up the back of your head.

“Hot men can’t be left alone too long.” You mumble to yourself, softly cupping an ornament with a pink cat. It makes you laugh. Unlike Yuuji, Sukuna wasn’t at all puppy like, cat like would be the better way to describe him. No, this cat ornament is the best way to describe Sukuna. 

You’re quick to pick it out, pay for it, and bring it back to Sukuna. Practically skipping to him with the ‘thank you for buying,’bag in your hands. “I got something!” 

Sukuna nods, “I would hope so.” He watches as you open the bag, pulling out the ornament. It almost makes him crack a smile, but he keeps his composure. “Should I ask why you bought that one?” 

“It’d make you a good boyfriend.” You lift it to his face. 

Sukuna turns his head away from you, “I’m not asking anymore.” 

“I’m so glad you asked!” You bring it to your face, pressing it right next to your cheek. “I got it because it’s literally you.” You look at it again, “Just way cuter.” Sukuna makes a face, but you're tugging him along again. “Put it on the tree, then we can take a picture of it together.”

Sukuna doesn’t say anything, just watches as you scurry to the tree and pick out a place–no, you don’t like that place, it’s too close to an ugly ornament, you actually want the space three ornaments away from it. You glance back at him, “You sure you want that place?” 

“Yes.” You point at it again, “Don’t ask too many questions, I’m indecisive.” 

Sukuna laughs, grabs the ornament from your hand and places it on the tree. “Is that good?” He moves to the side ever so slightly, letting you look at the placement. But, he mumbles underneath his breath, “It better be.” 

You nod, “Yes. It’s good.” You poke his chest, “Jerk.” 

“I’ll hang you on the tree as an ornament.” He grabs your waist, and picks you up. “Don’t move.” 

You shake your head, smiling with a giggle, placing your hands on his shoulders, “Wait, you going make me flash someone Sukuna, put me back down.” You wiggle your feet back and forth, your heels slowly peeling off your feet. 

“Good.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him into a hug, “Wait, before you put me up, we have to take a picture.” Sukuna gently places you back on the ground, which you think is rather out of character for him. Still, you flinch from the contact, the pressure being put back on your sensitive feet. 

Okay, now you remember exactly why you’re a Converse girly. You’re starting to find the pain to be a bit unbearable. 

“Picture.” He mumbles, reaching for his back pocket. “I’d rather be caught dead than in a picture with you.” He shakes his phone, before placing it in your hands. 

“If you’re going to bitch about it, just give me my phone.” You mumble, crossing your arms over your chest. “I swear, you make it so hard for me to want to be with you.” 

“It’s not hard.” Sukuna leans down, grabbing your wrist and lifting his phone with your hand. “You just make it hard.” 

You flip to the camera, angling it so the picture would get both of you. “Good thing we’re never going to be together.” You press your cheek against his, turning your head ever so slightly so your lips are touching his cheek. “Ever.” 

And, for some goddamn reason, Sukuna can’t help but crack a small smile at that. Just in time for you to snap the picture. 

“See, that wasn’t at all bad.” You lower the phone and click on the picture, “I literally look so cute too.” Which you can’t help but thank god about, usually you don’t even like the way you look in facetime calls. “And… I guess you look okay.” 

“Back on the tree.” He goes to pick you up again.

“Stop, you're going to make me drop the phone!” You try pulling away from him. Yet, you take a small mental note about how easy it is for Sukuna to move you around, lifting and pulling you with ease. 

“I’ll get a new one.” 

“But you can’t replace the photo!” You hug it close to your chest, “Wait, send it to me, I want to put it as your profile picture.” You reach into his pocket, pulling out your phone, but Sukuna–for some reason–seems to be a bit panicked by your hand. 

“Wait, don’t–” 

You giggle, “Wait, what? You scared I’m going to accidentally touch your–” You watch as something falls to the floor when you pull your phone out of his pocket. “Oh, you dropped something.” You bend down to pick it up, before blinking a few times, your hand inches away from the–the…

You feel your face explode in heat, your hand retracting back almost in fear. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my… You slowly tilt your head back, looking at Sukuna. “Uh, I… my bad.” 

Sukuna isn’t looking at you, his hands shoved in his pockets. He doesn’t even say anything, which you think is odd considering his quick tongue, and brass never censoring mouth. 

You feel a sharp puff of air leave your lips unexpectedly, before you cup your mouth, giggling into your palm. Before erupting into a laughing fit, absolutely dying in your kneeling position. 

“You’re such a child.” Sukuna remarks above you, but he’s still not looking at you. 

“You think I’m the child?” You pick up the small square, the gold packaging crinkling underneath your touch. “Sure, but here, you’re… Trojan magnum condom.”

Sukuna snatches it from your hand, sliding it back into his pocket. “Shut up.” 

You stand up, opening Sukuna’s phone to search for your contact. “I can’t wait to tell Nobara about this.” You whisper underneath your breath, “Also, what did you change my contact to?” 

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows at you. “Your contact?” 

“Yeah.” You open up his messages, and feel your finger pause in its spot. Your eyes stop on the second most recent message, your contact. 

“You named yourself.” Sukuna adds obviously, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. “Don’t tell me you already forgot that shit.” 

You take a moment to respond, a bit stunned that Sukuna kept the name. “Y-Yeah, sure.” You pretend to roll your eyes, resting your weight on your right leg, leaning ever so slightly. “My memory isn’t that bad.” 

You’re trying not to think about how Sukuna kept the name, or how he already has a picture for you. The one he took to supposedly, ‘send to Yuuji,’ which coincidentally is something Yuuji has never brought up to you. 

Just send the picture, you mentally tell yourself. Opening your message history and glancing at the most recent one he sent you. ‘Going to your club, keep sleeping. Lazy.’ So, he did tell you about it, but in your crazed, worried, panic, you didn’t even bother to glance at your phone. 

“You done?” Sukuna asks, arms crossed over his chest. “Or you looking for something to annoy me about.” 

“You know me too well.” You hand Sukuna his phone back, wiggling your shoulders playfully. “I also sent an old picture of you dressing as Sailor Venus. A little gift for putting up with you for so long.”

“I hope you die.” Sukuna shoves the phone into his pocket. 

“Oh.” Your eyes trail behind him, glancing at a cute ornament. “Wait, that one is so cute. Let’s change the location of our ornament.” You take a few steps forward, “I kinda’ wish I got one like that now.” 

“Why?” Sukuna glances over his shoulder, “It’s not even that cute.” 

“What?! It totally is.” You place your hands behind your back, “A cute and simple pink heart, what’s there not to like about it?” You look to the side, “Maybe, I should go buy one for our own tree.” You think aloud. 

“We don’t even have a tree.” 

“We can get one.” 

“I’m not spending money on something that’s going to be up for less then a month.” 

“I’ll buy it!” 

“With what money?” 

“I just want the damn ornament!” 

Sukuna blinks a few times, before glancing at the tree, then back at you. A smirk splits his lips, and it makes you uneasy. He tilts his head to the side, leaning down close to your face. “Then, take it.” 

Your lips part, before your eyebrows furrow in anger. “I’m not stealin–” 

“Shh.” Sukuna places his hand over your mouth, practically glaring at you. “Don’t yell something like that, you’re going to draw attention.” He leans his hand over your head, intending to reach the ornament, but you stop him. 

“Are you kidding? Someone put that up there, you can’t just steal it ‘cause I like it.” You push his hand to the side, “Someone put it up there, someone like us.” 

“Us?” Sukuna asks, but… it doesn't seem like he’s making fun of your choice of wording. It sounds more like… he’s asking for clarification on what you mean. What does ‘us’ mean?

“Yeah. Us.” You look to the side, pushing your hair behind your shoulders. “Another… uh, couple.” You touch the tip of your finger to your bottom lip, “Two people spending their afternoon together, and not knowing what to…” You point your finger between the two of you, “...what to call this.” 

It is silent between you two, no words exchanging. 

Sukuna looks at you for a few moments, looking at your hands, before looking at your face. He nods, “Yeah…” He turns away, hands in his pockets. “Let's go home. It’s getting late, and we’re an hour out.” He turns on his heel, starting to walk away from you. 

You press your lips together, not completely sure how to feel. To take a final glance at the tree, looking at your cat ornament, before walking after him. You sigh, closing your eyes to regroup. 

Fine, it’s fine. He’s not telling you no, he’s just… agreeing with you?

You take a step forward, and quickly feel your foot slip, almost twisting your ankle in an awkward position, but you catch yourself. Stopping in your tracks to readjust your standing. 

Sukuna looks over his shoulder, “You almost fall?” 

You narrow your eyes, straightening your posture. “No.” 

“Right.” He cocks his head to the side, “Then hurry up, you’re draggin’ your feet.” 

“I’m not draggin’ my feet.” You mimic, walking after him, but you mentally cringe. Your feet were uncomfortable before, now they’re aching with pain. A very, very uncomfortable pain. 

You press your lights together tightly, trying to conceal the pained groan wanting to escape your lips. You truly feel this is a humbling moment, you’re not made for cute shoes, and you’re not mentally strong enough to wear them. 

It hurts. 

You shiver. 

And, I’m cold. 

Sukuna narrows his eyes at you, “What’s wrong?” You watch as something flashes over his face, but you can’t describe what it is. “Are you not… enjoying yourself?”

“What? No, of course I am.” You reassure, finally standing by his side, “I’m just…” In a lot of pain, and starting to freeze my ass off from the cold. “...uh, tired from all the walking.” 

“Well, we got to walk back to the car.” Sukuna points in the general direction, “So, find a way to not be tired for the next fifteen minutes.” 

“Yeah.” You shiver again, sarcastically adding, “Let me just stop being tired right now.” You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to keep your warmth together. 

“Glad we can agree.” Sukuna keeps walking, closest to the street and now directly by your side. 

You hesitate to tell him, “I’m… cold.” Turning your face away from him so you can’t see his reaction. 

“I told you to get a sweater.” 

You feel your shoulder slump, “I know.” You slowly turn your face to him, but keep your eyes diverted. “It was going to ruin my outfit, ‘Kuna, I didn’t want to look ugly.” 

“It wasn’t goin’ to make you look ugly.” Sukuna adds, “You just overthink.” 

You huff, “Well, I’m still cold.” 

Sukuna softly sighs, and you can hear rustling, before something drapes over your head. Something warm, soft, and smells like… Sukuna. You pull it down your body, wrapping the sweat around your shoulder and slipping your arms through the sleeves. 

You zip up the sweater, burying your lower face into the sweater. Sukuna. You close your eyes, sighing with content. Sandalwood, a bit of citrus, and a toasty undertone. “I’m warm now.” 

“You better be.” Sukuna shivers, but he tries to hide it. “I’m suffering for your benefit.” 

You giggle, but mentally flinch with every step you take. Jesus, you’re in serious pain now, maybe you should've worn your normal shoes. 

“What is it now?” Sukuna brass asks. 

You furrow your eyebrows, “Are you kidding? I didn’t even say anything this time.” 

“You’re easy to read.” He tells you, placing his hand over your head. “You’ve always been easy to read.” 

“Then, why didn’t you know I liked you?” You place your hands on your hips, talking a few steps forward and turning on your heel. Walking backward while speaking to Sukuna, “If I’m so ‘easy to read,’ huh?” 

“How did you not know I liked you?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, “I did.” Sukuna gives you a face that can only be described as, ‘really?’ But, you quickly add, “I just… always doubted myself.” 

“Uh-huh.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, “I’m sure.” 

“Well, I knew for a fact you cared for me in the least. Which is more than what you feel for the normal person.” You slip your fingers inside the sleeves, not enjoying how the cold is biting at them. “So, yeah.” 

Sukuna nods, “I remember that.” He sharply breathes out in a laugh, “I remember that scared me.” 

You tilt your head to the side, “Why?” 

“You were right.” He runs his hands through your hair, picking up a few strands. Before softly tugging on them, “Your stupid brain was right.”

“Hey.” You swap his hand away, “Just compliment me without an insult.” 

“Yeah right.” Sukuna flicks your head, “And let it get in your head? Yeah, no thanks, you’re already crazy as is.” 

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not crazy, you’re just obsessed with me.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nod, “Yeah.” You smile to yourself, leaning close to Sukuna and resting your head on his arm. “Obsessed enough to carry me to the car, because my feet are killing me.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“What? But, I thought you liked me?” 

“Not enough to carry you.” Sukuna narrows his eyes, trying to gage the distance between the two of you and his car. “We’re ten minutes away, I’m not carrying you.” Not only that, but he parked his car up a hill. 

You pout, slumping into your shoulder, but you quickly perk up again, a cheeky smile splitting your lips. “Ah, whatever.” You turn around, walking forward again. “Just sounds like you’re too weak to carry me.” You peer at Sukuna over your shoulder, “I guess Yuu is just the stronger brother then.” 

Sukuna’s eye twitches, “Fuck you.” 

—

One of your airpods is in your ear, while the other is in Sukuna’s. The two of you silently listening to your downloaded music on shuffle. You’re a bit embarrassed by the music playing, some being years old back when you were in middle school, and others being as recent as this week. 

You bounce with each step Sukuna takes, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and your legs sticking out from his sides. Sukuna’s hands resting on the back of your thighs, supporting you against his body while he searches for his car. 

You’re a bit sleepy, your eyes heavy while your chin resting on his shoulder. One of your hands loosely holding onto your shopping bag. Sukuna can hear you humming along to the melody of the music playing,  and even though he’s never heard of the song playing, he thinks it's nice. You yawn, “‘Kuna?” 

Sukuna adjusts his hands on your body, “What.” 

You place your cheek on his shoulder, looking at the side of his face. You adore how pretty he is, his strong jaw, deep eyes, nose, and intricate tattoos. You’re almost jealous. “Do you like me?” You poke his cheek with your finger, tracing his tattoos. 

“No.” Sukuna turns his head away from you, “I hate you.” 

You sigh, closing your eyes again, “Yeah. I hate you, too.” Right as you say that, a very familiar melody plays in your ears. A song from a movie you adore more than anything. “Do you know this song?” Sukuna pauses for a moment, before nodding. You giggle, whispering, “The sun is nearly gone.” 

“You’re a horrible fuckin’ singer.” Sukuna teases. 

“Like you’re any better.” You snap back. 

“Yuuji’s actually really good at singing.” Sukuna tells you, before softly blowing a strand of your hair from his face. “He gets embarrassed, but the kid has skills. More than you, at least.” 

“Yuuji is amazing at everything.” You laugh, “To be honest, I think I’m in love with Yuuji.” You giggle against his neck, wiggling your shoulders playfully, “You okay with knowing that, ‘Kuna? That I’m actually obsessed with your brother, and not you?” 

Sukuna chuckles, “Yeah.” He jolts you up again, “I know.” 

You hum, “That’s tailor made for two.” You whisper, “What a shame those two are you, and me.” You giggle, “Oh my god, I literally love this song so much.” You glare at him, “It’s criminal you don’t know this song.”  

“I have this movie memorized.” Sukuna adds, next to your ear. 

You playfully scoff, placing your hands on his neck, “And you think I’m cringe?” You push his shoulder playfully, “I think you might be worse than me.” 

“I didn’t watch La La Land by choice, Yuuji forced me.” Sukuna looks to the side, placing his hands into his pockets.

You slowly stop, glancing at the sun setting. It’s a bit covered by the clouds, “Yeah. I’m sure watching Sailor Moon also wasn’t a choice.” For some reason, it’s colder than before. 

Sukuna stops with you, gaze joining yours. “I was like, fourteen when it came out? Besides, that movie was horrible.” 

You gasp dramatically, popping your head back to look at his face. “Take that back.” 

“Take what back?” Sukuna asks, passing you a playful look. “My thoughts?” 

You nod, “Yes, especially if your thoughts are wrong.”

“What would make my thoughts right?” 

“If they agree with my thoughts.”

“I do agree with you.” 

“Not in the right way.” 

Sukuna doesn’t respond immediately, but he shakes his head with a subtle smile. “You’re bipolar.” 

You nod, leaning into Sukuna’s neck and resting there. “Yeah.” Your tone is soft, your eyes fluttering closed. “You are too.” 

“Thanks.” Sukuna rests his chin on the top of your head, continuing to make his way to his car, but you can feel him stop. The pressure of your head being removed as he looks up. “Look.” 

You sigh before looking up, but you flinch when something soft and cold hits your nose. 

Snow. 

Your lips part in awe for a moment, before you slide down from Sukuna’s arms.“It didn’t snow last year.” 

“It didn’t.” Sukuna furrows his eyebrows ever so slightly, “In fact, this place isn’t really known for snowing, like–at all.” 

You turn quickly on your heel, “Oh my god, what if us being together set off a canon event, or the start of the end of the world.” You place your hand over your mouth, “Wait, no–” 

“Stop talking.” Sukuna continues walking, “We’re literally five parking spaces away from my car, just stop talking for the rest of the way.” He reaches into his pocket, grabbing your keys. 

You roll your eyes, but walk after him. But, quickly pull the back of his shirt, making him stop walking. “Sukuna?” 

He nods. 

“Uh.” You take a deep breath, “Thank you for, uh, taking me out.” You can feel your heart rate increase, you’re so nervous to be saying this, and you don’t even know why. “It means a lot to me, and I had… I had a lot of fun.” 

Sukuna finally turns on his heel to look at you. 

You let your hand drop back to your side, “It really… uhm, it means a lot.” 

“You already said that.” 

“I’m trying to thank you here!” You can feel your face burning up with embarrassment. Why can’t Sukuna take anything seriously for one second? 

Sukuna nods, biting the inside of his cheek while subtly smiling. “I know.” He leans down, pushing your hair behind your ear, “You don’t need to thank me.” 

You flutter your lashes, looking to the side bashfully, “But, I do.” You look back at him, tilting your head up, “I really appreciate you, this was really nice.” You press your lips together. 

There’s silence between the two of you, and you don’t know how to fill it. It’s not unpleasant, and a part of you never wants to change it, you want things to stay like this forever. Sukuna touching you softly, a comfortable oura between the two of you. 

Sukuna’s eyes dip, before he lowers himself to finally kiss you. His lips are soft against yours, contrasting to the way he kissed you in the dressing room. It's loving, adoring, and longing. His tongue slips past your lips and swipes against yours, before he pulls away. 

Sukuna places his forehead on yours, “I’m… I had fun.” 

Your smile is loving, before you whisper, “I think I want to give you my gift.” You lean in close again, your lips ghosting over his, “Can I do that?” Your hands reach for his.  

He nods, before his eyes light up with a realization, “Oh, wait, I also got something else for you.” He leans back and reaches into the shopping bag that held your jewelry. 

You shake your head, “You spent more money on me?” You ask a bit dreaded. 

“No.” 

“Oh.” You blink a few times, “Then, what is it?” 

Sukuna’s holding something in his hand, and you can’t see it. But, he’s holding it out for you, waiting for you to extend your hand to take it. 

You hesitate, “Uh…” You jut your eyebrows, “Is it… a bug?”

Sukuna glares at you, “Yes, it’s a fuckin’ bug. No?” He shakes his head, “Just take it.” 

You put your hand out, and wearily accept the item–or bug–Sukuna is handing to you. Once it’s resting in your hand, you feel your heart drop. 

“Sukuna.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Did you?” You look up, then look back at your hand. “When did you even get the chance to steal this?” 

“When you weren’t looking.” Sukuna’s looking at the ornament in your hand, “Don’t you like it?” 

“I mean, yeah? But, this doesn’t…” You laugh, trying to hide your smile. “You know what, I love it. Really thoughtful, and risky gift.” You start moving to Sukuna’s car again, “We can put it on our tree.” 

“We still don’t have a tree.” He’s walking behind you, opening up the trunk of his car to place your empty bag inside. 

“I can make an origami one.” You think for a moment, “Wait, origami Christmas trees are real, right?” You look in the trunk, and quickly swipe at your red lip gloss you had supposedly left inside. 

“Pretty sure.” Sukuna shuts the trunk, watching as you swipe your lip gloss wand over your lips. “While we’re driving home, you can search up what’s needed, and I’ll swing by Micheal’s.” 

“Wait, but I want to give you my gift first!” You grab his hand, tugging him to his car, but you pause at the doors of the driver's side. You lean up and press a quick kiss to his lips, “Let me give you my gift first, please.”

Sukuna watches you open the door, and pull the driver's seat forward, allowing you to slip into the backseats of his car. He feels his throat bob, watching your dress ride up your ass, and letting him look at your pink lacy panties. 

How could he say no to you?

HERE'S PART TWO!

Tag(s)!: @openup-yourmind, @sherlock-holmes-jr, @maskedpacific, @gasp-a-homo, @diogodxlot, @beahappyhoeee, @tojimeow, @sukunamylovexoxo, @yoontaedotin, @sukunaloverrr, @lanadelreylover4l, @raininginthemoonlight, @blackjanexx, @ethereally-lyann, @fritzzbitzz, @lanadelreylover4l, @chayunwoo, @madamteller, @mazzd4, @haithamsbb, @c-l-ellis, @samysaha, @pi-crust, @shukiinnkm

🥵🥵🥵

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your bestfriend, satoru, sends your cheating boyfriend a rather explicit video of the two of you as revenge.

tags. best friend!gojo satoru x female reader. smut, pwp. dōggy style. dirty talk. crēampie. reader gets called ‘pretty, angel, baby’. cheating. consensual fīlming. anon req.

“mmshiit, should’ve fucked you long time ago,” satoru hisses, his hips stuttering against the plump flesh of your ass. he’s unable to stop himself now that he’s got his pretty best friend underneath him—in a sinful position he has only had wet dreams of.

one moment you’re crying because of your cheating boyfriend and the next you’re getting your guts rearranged by your bestfriend who comforted you through it all.

your mascara stains satoru’s pillow, your drool doing the exact same. you’re acting like a total slut for his cock, mewling for him to give you more, to give it to you faster and harder. all of which is caught on tape.

“yeah? want more, baby?” satoru coos as he holds up your phone with one hand. his other one is gripping the side of your hip—keeping your ass perked up so he can continue hitting that right spot inside of your greedy cunt. the white-haired man snickers behind the camera, “c’mon—tell your boyfriend just how much y’ need your best friend’s cock.”

you know satoru’s filming himself hitting it from the back. it’s nasty, but it only serves to excite you. you know your ‘boyfriend’ will be enraged once he receives the erotic video from you. he’s never liked satoru neither, always preventing you two from meeting each other. which was a red flag by itself.

you’ll show that hypocritical bastard.

“need more, ‘toru, please—” you babble, your voice muffled by the pillow. your body jerks with each hard thrust. every move is made with precision, with the intention of pleasuring you until your insides remember the shape of his dick only, “fuckk, ‘tis too big.”

satoru grins smugly. you’re basically admitting that he’s way bigger than that excuse of a man you’re dating. his ego gets a huge boost and it shows when he drives his throbbing cock deeper into your tight cunt.

“awwh, i know, but i bet my sweet girl can take it,” your best friend encourages you through a raspy voice. the fact that he called you his ‘sweet girl’ drives you insane. your pussy squeezes around his cock in response.

satoru’s eyes nearly roll back from the way you’re gripping him. he moves his other hand around your hips until his fingertips find your clitoris. he over stimulates you until you’re crying of pleasure.

you end up clenching around his fat dick even more. it feels like you’re trying to snap his cock in half with how much you’re sucking him in. there’s not a chance of it slipping out of you.

satoru moans loudly without any shame, letting both you and your boyfriend - who’d watch the video later - know how much he enjoys pounding your cunt like it’s actually his; “y’re so fucking tight. you sure your boyfriend’s been fucking you?”

you feel embarrassed by how much you’re enjoying his dirty talk. satoru’s drilling his cock into you so well to the point that you’ve forgotten all about the intimacy you shared with your cheating boyfriend. it was nothing compared to how satoru is treating you right this moment.

the white-haired man continues, still not believing that he’s finally living out his dreams. your body is heaven to him. satoru can’t help but whimper at the feeling your pussy sucking him in so desperately, “feels like your pussy hasn’t had any dick in a good while.”

the way you’re basically screaming into the pillow is enough evidence to confirm that your boyfriend has never fucked you properly at all. that delicious arch of your back, that ass of yours bouncing back on his pelvis in circles. . . satoru just knows it.

you hiccup and try to speak. you know your boyfriend is going to see the video and that only drives you to be more vocal than you already are. you’re going to get revenge and you’re going to make it as painful as possible.

“y-yeah,” you agree with satoru’s words. your words are basically slurred—too cockdrunk to properly talk. you lift your head up for a second to breathe and continue your whiny babbling between moans, “he’s n-never fucked me as well as you—ngh!”

your voice is perfect. everything about you is. satoru isn’t sure if he’ll even last long like this. he wants to claim you as his girl already. he wants to thrust his cum as deep as he can inside of you so you’ll only think of him.

“poor, poor baby,” satoru pouts and rubs your ass gently as he watches it bounce back at him with every thrust. the view is hypnotising. he cannot grasp the fact that your boyfriend fumbled such an amazing girl like you, “it’s okay. i’ll make it up to ya, mhm? i’ll treat you like a real man would.”

you nod and whimper in agreement, which gives satoru the green light. you’re going to be his at the end of this session. he’s going to claim you as his—finally—after all those years.

you feel yourself start to tremble. you feel tingly all over and your moans are getting louder. the curve in satoru’s dick is making your mind go blank. it makes his tip hit the deepest spots inside you, the right spots. you’re desperately searching for that sweet release.

“aht, aht, angel,” satoru clicks his tongue whilst deepening the arch of your back. his fingers trace the shape of your spine, feeling you shiver from the touch as he pounds you silly. “hold it in, yeah? need you to cum for me when i do. wanna fill this cunt to the brim.”

you try to hold on the best you can. after a couple more thrusts, satoru’s breath turns shaky and his noises turn into whimpers—a sign that he’s on the edge, “fuck fuck fuck fuck! baby- ‘m gnna cum!”

you gasp and your body spasms and squirms as you reach your climax at the exact same time. you feel your cunt being flood with spurts of semen. it’s so much—as if satoru’s been storing all of it just for you.

“there there. such a good girl,” satoru sighs and pulls out of you after making sure that you’ve settled down. he takes his dick out as slowly as possible, pointing the camera right at the lewd sight. his entire length is coated with a mixture of your slick and his white cum.

you shiver at the feeling of being left empty. satoru soothes you by pushing his cum back into your pussy with two long fingers. he films the entire process, focusing on your stuffed hole for a few seconds before putting the phone up.

satoru points the back camera at the both of you, getting the entire view of the messy bed. he grins and puts a peace sign up—ending the video with a mocking yet cold smile that’s directed to the man who’s going to be watching this video soon, “should’ve treated her better.”

oh, your boyfriend is going to be fuming. deserved..

STUCK WITH YOU - GOJO SATORU

summary. Gojo Satoru—strongest, cockiest, and, according to him, the hottest man alive—bows to no one. Until you came along and suddenly, he’s on his knees.

word count. 10.6k (i..dont know)

content. mdni fem! reader, zombie apocalypse au, violence, blood, pet names, satoru is a certified tease, cute banter because we love that here, they're so down bad for each other, smut, oral (fem rec.), p in v, loss of virginity (reader), breeding, creampie, soft satoru <3

author's note. i miss my man

The sky had been burning when the world ended.

You were fifteen—just a kid with scraped knees and a heart too big for the horrors it was about to witness. 

Sirens wailed through the streets, helicopters thundered above, and the sharp stench of smoke and decay clung to the air like death itself. One moment, your parents were urging you to run, voices trembling with fear. The next, everything shattered. A scream. Blood. The gurgled breath of something that wasn’t quite human anymore.

You had survived. Somehow. Alone.

But the cost of survival was everything.

-

The woods are silent, save for the crunch of your boots over frostbitten leaves. The moon hangs high above, pale and cold, casting everything in an unforgiving glow. You keep your knife gripped tight in one hand, the other cradling your growling stomach. It’s been three days since you last found anything remotely edible.

Every snap of a branch, every whisper of wind feels like a threat. Years alone have trained you to expect the worst.

Then you pause.

Smoke. Just a wisp of it in the air. You sniff again, slower this time. It's faint, but definitely there.

You move like a shadow, quiet and cautious, weaving through trees toward the scent. And then you see it:

A flickering campfire nestled in a hollow clearing, throwing gold and orange light onto the figures beside it. Two men. Asleep—at least, you hope they are. One is lying flat on the ground, the other propped against a log, limbs long and sprawled, a blindfold covering his eyes.

There’s food by the fire. Real food. Bread. Cans. Water.

You inch closer, heart hammering. It’s been years since you’ve seen other people. You don’t know if that makes this moment safer… or far more dangerous.

You creep into the circle of warmth, fingers itching toward the supplies. Just one thing. That’s all you need.

You barely breathe as you crouch beside the campfire, the heat brushing against your frozen skin like a long-forgotten comfort. Your fingers tremble as you reach for a loaf of bread—real bread—but just as your hand closes around it, your boot nudges something metallic.

CLANG.

The tin can hits the ground, and for a moment, silence swallows everything.

Then—movement.

You whip your head toward the two figures by the fire. One shoots upright in an instant, long-limbed and alarmingly fast. The other groans awake, slower, disoriented. You don’t even have time to run.

"Don't move," the taller one says—voice low, commanding. You meet his gaze and—holy hell.

Snow-white hair, cerulean eyes. He stands like someone who’s fought the world and won. His blindfold hangs around his neck, exposing everything. It's him—the one with the voice that makes your skin prickle and a face that doesn’t belong in this nightmare world.

"Well, well," he drawls, taking a step forward. "And here I thought we were the only pretty faces left."

You swallow, frozen. His companion grabs a weapon, steps forward too, more cautious.

"Who are you?" the second man demands.

The white-haired man’s eyes never leave yours. He smirks.

"She’s hungry. Look at her. Poor thing."

You clench your fists. You’ve survived too long to be pitied.

"Touch me and I swear to god—"

The man raises his hands, mockingly innocent.

"Easy, sweetheart. No one’s touching you… unless you want us to."

You scrunch up your face, disgusted and his grin widens just a little.

You lift your knife. “I don’t want trouble. I just need food.”

“I’d say knocking over our supplies in the middle of the night is kinda trouble,” the dark-haired one says. His hair is tied back, strands falling loose around his face, his grip on his weapon steady. “Who are you?”

You swallow thickly. It’s been so long since anyone’s asked you that. Your voice is hoarse. “Just someone trying to survive.”

The white-haired one takes a lazy step forward, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Chill, Suguru. She’s not here to kill us,” he says, and then turns back to you. “You got a name, mystery girl?”

You eye him warily. “…Why do you care?”

He grins. “Because mine’s Gojo Satoru. And this grumpy one is Suguru.”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell her our names, dumbass.”

But Gojo—Satoru, apparently—just shrugs, looking far too amused for someone who just woke up to a stranger trying to rob him.

Your fingers tighten on your knife. But something about him… those eyes… that voice…

“You really gonna stab the guy who might be your best chance at staying alive?” he asks, cocking his head. “Come sit. Eat. Or run. Up to you.”

Your stomach growls loudly.

Satoru grins wider. “That’s what I thought.”

You slowly lower your knife, but don’t put it away—not yet. Your eyes stay locked on them as you inch closer to the fire. The warmth should be a comfort, but your muscles are still taut, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

Satoru sprawls back onto a log like he’s done this a hundred times. He’s still smiling—lazy, smug, like he’s enjoying this little show. Suguru doesn’t relax. He stays seated, but his eyes follow your every move, knife still held tight in his hand.

You kneel beside the fire, close enough to reach the food, far enough to lunge away if you need to. There’s a dented pot with some kind of stew, still warm, and a few pieces of bread wrapped in cloth.

“Help yourself,” Satoru says, waving a hand like he’s offering a royal feast. “We even warmed it up for you.”

You shoot him a glare but reach out cautiously, taking just a little. You sniff the stew first. Watch them.

“Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned,” Suguru says dryly.

“That’s what someone who poisoned it would say,” you mutter, tearing off a bite of bread.

Satoru snorts. “She’s got a mouth on her. I like her.”

You ignore that. Instead, you eat slowly, eyes flicking between them. They don’t move. Suguru keeps watch. Satoru lounges like this is the most interesting thing that’s happened all week.

“How long have you two been out here?” you ask finally.

“Long enough,” Suguru says, tone clipped.

"Too long," Satoru says, tossing a pebble into the fire like this is just another lazy night for him. "We move around, but we've got a base. Old prison, about twenty miles from here. You?"

You don’t answer right away.

“Alone,” you say after a beat. “I’ve been alone.”

The fire crackles between you.

Suguru’s gaze softens—just for a second. But Satoru’s smile stays.

“Well,” he says, stretching out his long legs, “you’re not alone anymore.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not staying.”

“Didn’t say you had to.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But something tells me you might not leave either.”

He’s not threatening. He’s just… certain.

You’re crouched by the fire, still tense, still not entirely trusting, when Satoru leans back on his hands, head tilted.

“You should come with us,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “You’ll be safer.”

Your eyes flick to Suguru—he doesn’t hide the way his jaw clenches.

“She could be a liability,” Suguru mutters. “You don’t know her.”

“No,” Satoru agrees, grinning at you. “But I like her.”

Suguru sighs, deep and disapproving, but you see it—that soft flicker in his eyes that means he’s already given in.

Satoru turns back to you. “We’re heading out at first light. If you’re in, pack whatever you’ve got.”

You nod, hesitant. But, maybe… maybe this is the start of something.

-

A gentle nudge to your shoulder. Then a voice, light and annoyingly cheerful.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. Big day today.”

You blink awake to Satoru crouching beside you, white hair a wild halo against the rising sun. He grins.

“You snore, by the way.”

“I do not.”

“You do. It was cute.”

You groan, dragging a hand over your face. “Remind me why I agreed to come with you again?”

“Because I’m charming,” he beams. “Now come on. We've got a long way to go—and Suguru’s already in a mood.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe he wouldn’t be if you stopped talking.”

“Ohhh, savage!” he clutches his chest, stumbling back like you just stabbed him. “You wound me, stranger.”

You roll your eyes and sling your bag over your shoulder. “Not a stranger anymore, remember? You practically adopted me last night.”

Satoru grins, falling into step beside you. “True. You’re my problem now.”

“Joy,” you mutter, but your lips twitch despite yourself.

Suguru’s already waiting up ahead, arms crossed, brow arched like he’s already tired of this nonsense. “You two done flirting or should I keep walking?”

You open your mouth to protest, but Satoru gets there first.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Suguru.”

“I will leave you in the woods,” Suguru replies flatly.

“You’d miss me in an hour.”

“You wish.”

You stifle a laugh and glance between the two. “Are you always like this?”

Satoru flashes you a grin. “Buckle up, sweetheart. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

-

The trek through the forest had been relatively quiet—birds rustled above, trees whispering overhead, and Satoru talking your ear off. But midway through the journey, something shifts.

Suguru’s head tilts first, eyes narrowing at the faint crunch in the distance. Not a squirrel. Not a rabbit.

You hear it next.

Low. Guttural.

A hiss.

Then another.

They come from the trees. Slow at first—one stumbles into view, then two, then more. Rotting limbs. Glazed-over eyes. That sickening gurgle of hunger.

“Aw, shit,” Satoru grins like it’s a party. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

Suguru already has his blade drawn, calm as ever. “Don’t play around, Satoru.”

“No promises.” He rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck with a sharp tilt. “Time to impress the new girl.”

The first zombie lunges—and Satoru moves. A blur of motion, too fast to follow. The undead’s head twists unnaturally before it even hits the ground.

Suguru moves more fluidly—clean, precise slashes. No theatrics. Just deadly efficiency. His blade slices through two more, not even a drop of blood on him.

But they just keep coming.

Your heart pounds in your ears. Adrenaline surges. You’d been careful to avoid confrontation all these years, but this is different. You're not alone anymore. And you won’t be dead weight.

You draw your blade—sharpened scrap metal turned makeshift machete—and steady your breath.

One charges. You duck, spin, and drive the blade clean through its skull. Another reaches for you. You kick it back hard, burying your weapon in its chest before pulling it free with a grunt.

Satoru whistles low. “Well damn.”

“Focus,” Suguru mutters, cutting another down.

You move together now, three separate forces of destruction.

Satoru’s grinning like a madman, whirling and laughing with every kill. “You seeing this? She’s got bite!”

Suguru flicks blood off his blade. “You could take a lesson from her.”

Zombies litter the ground within minutes. The forest falls silent again—except for your panting breaths.

Satoru walks over, brushing blood off his cheek. “Well, that was fun. You good?”

You nod, chest still heaving. “Peachy.”

“Okay, badass,” he says with a grin, then nudges your shoulder playfully. “I take it back. You’re not just some lost little stray. You’ve got some claws.”

Suguru simply gives you a once-over, silent approval in his gaze.

You sheath your blade. “Told you I could handle myself.”

Satoru grins wider. “Yeah, and it was hot.”

-

The journey's been long, your legs aching from the endless trek, your guard never once lowered—not even with Satoru’s ridiculous jokes or Suguru’s unnervingly sharp eyes on you.

But when the trees begin to thin and the rusted silhouette of a massive abandoned prison looms ahead—walls towering, fences lined with jagged barbed wire, and lookout towers standing tall like watchful sentinels—you feel something you haven't in years:

Hope.

Gojo stretches lazily, like the walk didn’t faze him at all. "Home sweet hellhole," he grins. "Bet you weren’t expecting this kind of palace."

Suguru doesn’t say much, just gestures for you to follow. The guards on the watchtower whistle low when they see the trio approaching, and the gates creak open. Inside, the prison yard is alive—people bustling, fires burning in steel barrels, children laughing (actual children), and survivors moving with purpose.

You're stunned. You didn’t think this kind of order still existed.

A kid runs up to Gojo. “Satoru! You’re back!”

“Obviously,” he winks, tossing his jacket at the kid. “Miss me?”

You stare, wide-eyed.

“You’re like… respected here?”

“Terrifying, isn’t it?” Gojo deadpans. “Stick with me, newbie. I’ll show you the ropes. Maybe even let you survive.”

Suguru glances back, quiet for a moment. “Don’t get too comfortable. It’s safe, but it’s not paradise.”

Gojo leans closer to you as you're led through the gates.

“Don’t worry. If anything tries to eat you—aside from me—I’ll kill it.”

Your face burns and he just smirks like he’s got you all figured out.

“Aww, don’t get all shy, now. Where’d all that bite from earlier go?” he teases, voice low and entirely too smug.

You shove him with a scowl, cheeks still flaming. “Shut up, lecher.”

He stumbles back with a dramatic gasp, hand clutching his chest. “Lecher? Ouch. You wound me, sweetheart.”

Suguru sighs ahead of you. “Ignore him. He gets like this when he’s not punched often enough.”

Gojo just throws an arm around your shoulders, unbothered and still grinning. “Admit it, you missed human interaction.”

You glare up at him. “I missed silence.”

“Too bad,” he chirps, “you’re stuck with me now.”

You follow Gojo through the looming gates of the old prison turned fortress, the creak of rusted metal echoing off cold concrete walls. The place is… intimidating, but secure. High fences, makeshift watchtowers, guards with weapons patrolling like hawks. Survivors glance your way—curious, cautious—but no one approaches just yet.

“Well,” Gojo grins, throwing his arms out dramatically, “welcome to paradise, sweetheart.”

You shoot him a glare, but before you can answer, a voice calls out.

“Don’t call new recruits that, Gojo.”

A tall woman leans against the infirmary doorway, cigarette dangling between her fingers, lab coat stained with faded blood. She looks you up and down, then flicks ash to the ground with a sigh.

“Ieiri Shoko. I’m the doctor over here,” she says. “You look like hell.”

“…Thanks?”

“She means ‘you’ll fit right in,’” Gojo says brightly, nudging your shoulder. “She’s got a warm heart under all that… nicotine.”

Before you can respond, another figure approaches—sharp, calculating, blond hair swept neatly back and a stern face that reads no nonsense allowed.

“Nanami Kento,” he introduces himself. “I hope you know how to follow rules.”

You stiffen slightly. “Depends on the rules.”

Gojo chuckles. “Play nice, Nanamin. She’s new.”

“And she’ll stay alive longer if she learns structure.”

You barely have time to absorb that before someone barrels into the conversation like a human golden retriever.

“Gojo-sensei! You’re back!”

A pink-haired young man skids to a stop beside you, eyes wide with excitement. “Whoa—new person?! Hi! I’m Itadori Yuji!”

You blink, overwhelmed by the sudden burst of energy.

“Yuji,” Gojo sighs fondly. “Tone it down a little, yeah? She’s been through it.”

Yuji’s smile softens. “Right, sorry. Still—welcome. You hungry? We’ve got canned peaches! They’re not that bad if you hold your breath.”

A scoff cuts through the chaos.

“That’s how you welcome someone? ‘Peaches if you hold your breath’?”

You turn to see a girl with sharp eyes, short auburn hair, and a confident stance stroll up like she owns the place.

“Kugisaki Nobara,” she says, hand on her hip. “Don’t let the dumb smiles fool you—Yuji’s annoying, but he’s not dangerous. Usually.”

Yuji pouts. “Rude.”

And last, from the shadows near the barracks, a low voice.

“Don’t overwhelm her.”

A tall boy steps forward, dark hair, brooding expression. Cold eyes meet yours briefly before shifting away like he’s already bored of this interaction.

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

You blink. “Nice to meet you… all.”

“You’ll get used to the chaos,” Nobara says. “Eventually.”

Gojo’s grin widens, like a proud dad watching his weird little family.

“See? Told you you’d like it here.”

You’re not sure yet. But for the first time in years, you’re not alone.

-

The base is a repurposed prison, all concrete walls and rusted bars, but the way Gojo walks its halls, it might as well be a palace.

“Welcome to paradise,” he grins, pushing open a barred door that creaks like it’s complaining. “Don’t let the charming décor fool you. The rats love it here.”

You roll your eyes but follow him in. He gestures with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “Your very own cell—er, suite.”

The room is small, but clean. A bed shoved into one corner, a patched-up mattress, and even a chipped mirror on the wall. You nod, impressed despite yourself.

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I gave you the one with a window. You can thank me later.”

You smirk and step back out into the hallway. “Trying to impress me, Gojo?”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m a peacock in the apocalypse, baby.”

You laugh under your breath and follow him down a narrow hall. There’s a dip in the concrete, a crack in the floor you don’t notice until your boot catches—your heart jumps as you pitch forward, but Gojo’s arms are immediately around you.

Strong. Steady. Warm.

“Careful now,” he murmurs, voice all silk and smugness. “You fell for me already?”

You’re pressed against his chest, your breath caught in your throat, face heating up. He doesn’t move right away—his hands settle on your waist, casual and intimate in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You shove him off with a flustered glare. “Shut up, lecher.”

He grins, wide and infuriating. “That’s more like it.”

The rest of the tour is quieter. You pass rooms where others sleep, the mess hall, the infirmary where Shoko’s set up shop. You even glimpse Yuji hauling supplies with Nobara snapping at him in the distance.

But then Gojo stops in front of a heavy iron door—no windows, no markings. His face changes. The joking fades.

“Whatever you do,” he says, voice low, “don’t go into the commissary. Not alone. Not ever.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness.

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. His blue eyes sharpen beneath his snowy lashes.

“Because even monsters like us keep our secrets somewhere,” he says softly. “And some doors are locked for a reason.”

You stare at him, heart knocking against your ribs.

Gojo Satoru, unshakable, untouchable… looking haunted?

Your skin prickles.

But he flashes you that lazy grin again, like nothing happened. “Now come on. You haven’t seen the courtyard. Yuji likes to wrestle people out there—it’s horrible. You’ll love it.”

And just like that, the moment passes… but the warning stays.

-

The rooftop’s quiet late at night.

The chaos of the base fades into a hush, just the distant hum of wind brushing over cracked cement and rusted fences. You lie back against the cool surface, arms behind your head, eyes fixed on the sky above. For once, it’s clear. A spatter of stars gleam like glass shards across a velvet sky.

You let yourself breathe.

No infected. No screaming. No fear.

Just the stars.

Footsteps approach—light, familiar, cocky.

“I knew you were a stargazer,” Gojo says, easing himself down beside you with a dramatic sigh. “You’ve got that dreamy, melancholic look. So poetic.”

You don’t look at him. “You’ve got that annoying, uninvited energy. So parasitic.”

He barks out a laugh. “Ow. You wound me, sweetheart.”

A beat passes. Then another.

You can feel him watching you, but for once, he doesn’t speak.

And somehow, that’s more unsettling.

“…You alright?” you ask, finally glancing his way.

He’s leaning back on his elbows, white hair messy from the wind, blue eyes locked on the stars—but they’re distant. Quiet. A far cry from their usual teasing glint.

“I’m heading out tomorrow,” he says casually. “Scouting mission. Few days tops.”

You blink. “Oh.”

Something flickers in your chest. It shouldn’t. Not like this.

“Oh,” you repeat, softer. “Right.”

A part of you wants to ask why he’s going. Another part wants to pretend it doesn’t matter. You settle for neither, chewing your lip, trying to ignore the weight settling in your gut.

Satoru glances at you then, his smirk lazy but his voice just a touch softer.

“Try not to miss me, yeah?”

You scoff. “I’ll throw a party the second you leave.”

“That’s what they all say,” he murmurs, leaning just a little closer. “Then they realize how boring life is without me.”

His smile is all mischief—but behind it, there’s something warmer. Something real.

And for once… you don’t fire back. You just look at him.

Maybe you’ll miss him a little. Just a little.

-

You don’t expect his absence to linger. But it does.

You feel it in the small silences—the way the mess hall feels quieter without his dumb jokes echoing through it, how sparring sessions feel colder without him barging in with some smug, offhanded comment about your form.

At night, you find yourself back on the rooftop. The stars are still there, but they don’t sparkle like they used to. It’s stupid, you tell yourself, because what kind of person starts depending on a man like that?

He’s loud. He’s infuriating. He teases you relentlessly.

But… he saw you. When you thought no one ever would again.

Shoko notices the way you’ve been spacing out more. She doesn’t say anything until the third night.

“You okay?”

You nod. Too quickly. “Fine.”

She squints at you. “You’re not fine. You’re moping.”

“I’m not moping.”

She clicks her tongue. “Acting like someone’s girlfriend.”

You nearly knock your cup over. “I’m not—!”

But you don’t finish that sentence. Because the words feel too close to something you’ve been avoiding.

You try to bury it—tell yourself it’s just concern. You’re just… grateful. It’s not like that. You don’t miss his stupid smirk or the way he always stands too close just to fluster you. You don’t care about how his hair always looks so damn soft, or how his voice drops a little when he’s serious with you.

You don’t.

You don’t.

Then the whispers start.

“No signal from the scouting team.”

“They were supposed to be back by now.”

A cold chill snakes down your spine.

You start going to the gate more. Just to check. You pretend it’s coincidence.

It’s not.

You catch yourself gripping the straps of your bag harder than usual. You’ve never hated waiting so much in your life.

Until one evening—

The gates finally creak open.

Your breath catches in your throat as the guards call out a name. Several figures walk through the archway, dust and blood clinging to their clothes.

And there he is.

White hair, blue eyes. One sleeve ripped off, a gash on his collarbone, dried blood staining his neck—but he’s alive.

“Satoru,” you whisper, already walking forward.

His eyes find yours instantly. That grin pulls at his lips like it never left.

“Aww, did you miss me?”

You don’t answer. You just hit his shoulder. “Idiot.”

But then your hands linger, and before you can stop yourself, you’re pulling him into a tight hug.

He stiffens, just for a second. Then his arms slide around you, strong and warm.

“Try not to cry too hard,” he mutters, voice light—but there’s something tight beneath it.

“I hate you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Sure you do,” he chuckles, and when you pull back, his smile softens.

You don’t know what this feeling is. Or maybe you do. You just don’t want to name it yet.

But you know this: You’re glad he came back.

And for now, that’s enough.

-

You wander the halls of the prison alone, the hum of fluorescent lights above your head flickering inconsistently. Satoru had taken the kids out back for training, and with nothing to do and no one to bother you, you figured you’d finally explore the rest of the base.

The place was massive—too massive. Each cell block looked like the next, corridors looping endlessly into each other until your curiosity outweighs your sense of direction. One door, rusted and slightly ajar, catches your eye.

You should’ve turned around.

You push it open.

Inside is dark, dusty. Shelves line the walls, broken crates and old rations tossed everywhere. You wander deeper, hesitant but unaware. That is…until it hits.

The smell.

Rotting flesh, stagnant air, the thick, unmistakable stench of death.

And then—movement.

Shuffling. A low groan. Shadows twitch. A hand smacks against a shelf and knocks it over with a crash.

They're here.

Your eyes snap wide and panic sets in instantly. There are so many.

You run.

You shove a metal shelf in their path, throw an old stool, anything you can get your hands on to slow them down. Your breaths are shallow, desperate. But just as you near the exit—

Your ankle gives out.

A sick snap, searing pain, and you crash to the floor with a cry. You scramble backward, pressing yourself against the wall, using your good leg to kick anything that comes close.

This is it. This is it.

You squeeze your eyes shut, heart pounding.

Gunshots.

The sound like thunder crashing right next to your ear.

You blink up, barely processing the white blur tearing through the undead like paper.

“I told you not to go in here!” he shouts, voice slicing through the chaos.

“Satoru—!”

The zombies turn just in time for Satoru to drive his fist into the nearest one’s chest, cracking bone and sending it flying back into the others like bowling pins.

“Seriously?” he growls, stepping in front of you, his broad back shielding your crumpled form. “I leave you alone for five minutes.”

One lunges from the side. Gojo ducks effortlessly, grabs it by the throat, and slams it into the ground so hard its skull splits open on impact. Another claws at his shoulder, but he just grabs its wrist, twists, and kicks out its knee in one brutal motion. It collapses, and he doesn’t even look as he drives a sharp piece of wood through its head.

And then—you're in his arms. Just like that.

Lifted effortlessly, pressed against his chest as he strides out of the hellhole.

You cling to him, trembling.

“I didn’t know it was the commissary,” you whisper between sobs. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know—I just—God, I’m so sorry, Gojo, I—”

His voice is low, firm, but gentle. “Hey. Breathe. I’ve got you.”

You look up at him, lip quivering. “I—I made you worry…”

“Yeah, you did,” he says with a wry little smirk, but his eyes are too soft, too relieved to match it. “Don’t ever do that again, got it?”

You nod.

“Good,” he murmurs, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from your face. “Because if I lost you... I’d have to kill the rest of the world just for pissing me off.”

Your breath hitches.

You stare up at him, heart pounding, face flushed from more than just the sprint for your life.

“W-What kind of psycho logic is that?” you mutter, trying to deflect, your voice barely steady.

Satoru smirks down at you, still holding you effortlessly in his arms like you weigh nothing. “C’mon, don’t act so surprised. I’m dramatic, haven’t you noticed?”

“You’re insane,” you whisper, trying not to combust under his gaze.

“And you’re blushing,” he points out smugly, nose nearly brushing yours. “Kinda cute, actually.”

You twist in his hold, hiding your face against his shoulder. “Shut up,” you mumble, voice muffled.

He laughs softly, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Can’t. Teasing you is the only thing keeping me sane these days.”

You can feel the tension slipping away, replaced by something heavier, warmer. He lowers you gently onto a nearby bench just outside the danger zone, kneeling before you like it’s second nature, hands skimming your calves as he examines your ankle again.

When he looks up this time, his expression is different. Less playful. More raw.

“I meant it, you know,” he says quietly. “You scared the hell out of me in there.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” he cuts in, hand brushing yours. “But next time, brat, wait for me. No solo adventures.”

Your lips twitch. “You’re calling me a brat now?”

“Borrowing the title. Think I earned it after saving your ass.”

You huff a laugh, cheeks still warm. “…Thanks.”

His grin softens. “Anytime.”

And just like that, you both sit there—his fingers still wrapped gently around your hand, his thumb rubbing absent circles over your knuckles—as the adrenaline fades and something else takes its place. Something quieter. Heavier. Charged.

-

Satoru insists on carrying you the whole way to the infirmary, ignoring your every protest.

“This is unnecessary,” you mutter, burying your face in his shoulder to avoid every curious glance.

“You twisted your ankle and almost got mauled. Humor me,” he says, smug but gentle, like the two can coexist in him with ease.

He kicks open the infirmary door with his foot.

“Delivery for one idiot who wandered into a no-go zone,” he calls out casually.

Shoko looks up from her desk, raising a brow at the sight of you both. “Well, well. If it isn’t the base’s golden boy and his damsel in distress.”

“I wasn’t distressed,” you blurt out instantly, wiggling in Gojo’s hold.

“Oh?” she hums, amused. “You sure? Because I could’ve sworn I heard ‘Gojo! Help!’ from all the way down the hall.”

You splutter. “That’s not— I mean—”

“Loudly,” she adds with a pointed smirk.

Satoru just laughs and sets you down on one of the cots, his hand lingering a little longer than necessary on your back before stepping aside.

“She’s fine. Just the ankle,” he says. “But maybe check if she sprained anything else. She fell pretty hard.”

Shoko moves closer, completely ignoring the medical part for now, because she’s too focused on watching the both of you squirm.

“Ohhh,” she teases, eyes sparkling. “Look at the two of you. Cute. Almost like a couple.”

You and Satoru freeze at the exact same time.

“Nope!” “Not a couple!” “Definitely not!”

You shoot each other a panicked glance and then immediately look away, flustered messes in stereo.

Shoko snorts. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

You glare. “Can we just focus on my ankle now?”

“Fine, fine,” she drawls, clearly enjoying herself. “Just sayin’. Wouldn’t be the worst match. You get saved, he gets to play hero. Very fairytale.”

“I hate all of this,” you mutter under your breath, while Satoru just smiles to himself, unbothered but definitely pleased.

When Shoko starts wrapping your ankle, he leans against the wall with his arms crossed, watching.

And you swear you see it—that tiny, knowing glint in his eyes.

Like he wants her to say it again.

Because maybe, just maybe… he doesn’t mind the idea.

-

It’s later that night when there’s a knock at your door. You’ve barely had time to settle in, still awkwardly hobbling around on one foot with your bandaged ankle.

“Who is it?” you call.

“It’s your favorite,” comes the unmistakable voice from the other side.

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the tiny smile tugging at your lips. “Didn’t know Nanami suddenly got chatty.”

A muffled chuckle. “Ha. Hilarious. Open up.”

You limp to the door and unlock it. Satoru is standing there, a little disheveled, hands full.

“Brought you dinner,” he says casually, holding out a tray with two mismatched bowls, steam still curling from the soup. “Figured you might be tired of Shoko’s painkillers and snark.”

You blink, caught off guard. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he says dramatically, stepping in without being invited. “That’s what makes me so noble.”

You laugh despite yourself, and he grins like that was the goal all along. He sets the tray down on your little desk, then gestures toward your bed.

“Come on, sit. Can’t have you falling over again. One near-death experience per day is my limit.”

You sit, trying not to look too charmed when he settles next to you—close, but not too close—just enough for your knees to brush.

“I still feel terrible about earlier,” you say after a moment, poking at the edge of your bowl. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You didn’t worry me,” he says too quickly, too nonchalantly.

You glance up. “Liar.”

He sighs and leans back on his hands, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Fine. Maybe I panicked a little. Sue me.”

A silence lingers, not uncomfortable. Just… warm.

Then, softer: “Don’t do that again, okay?”

You look at him, really look at him—the shadows under his eyes, the slight dip in his brow, the way his voice softens when it’s just you and him.

And something in your chest stirs. Something that’s been creeping in, slow and steady, ever since he offered you food by a fire that first night.

You nod. “I won’t.”

He glances over, catches your gaze—and doesn’t look away this time.

There’s something unspoken passing between you. Familiar. Intense. Safe.

“You’re really something, y’know that?” he murmurs.

You raise a brow. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

He smirks. “Depends. You gonna fall harder for me if it is?”

You flush instantly. “Satoru—”

He laughs and nudges your bowl toward you. “Eat before it gets cold, princess.”

You grumble under your breath but dig in.

And Satoru?

He watches you with that same lopsided grin, heart doing something stupid in his chest.

Because yeah—maybe you fell.

But maybe he’s been falling, too.

-

It’s past midnight when you stir.

The pain in your ankle has dulled to a throb, but it isn’t what wakes you. It’s… something else. A presence. Warm. Close.

You blink against the low glow of the hallway light seeping under your door, and when your eyes adjust—

You see him.

Satoru.

Slouched in the chair by your bed, long legs awkwardly folded, head tipped to the side, snowy hair falling across his face in soft, messy tufts. His mouth is slightly parted, breathing slow and even. His arms are crossed, like he hadn’t meant to fall asleep there.

Like he was just keeping watch.

Just in case.

Your heart does a little flip.

You shift quietly, trying not to make a sound. But even with all your care, the mattress creaks—barely. His eyes snap open immediately, hand twitching toward a weapon that isn’t there. Pure instinct.

Then he sees you. And relaxes.

“Oh,” he breathes, voice gravelly with sleep. “You’re awake.”

You sit up slowly. “Were you… here all night?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Not all night. Just since… y’know. Evening.”

You squint at him. “Satoru.”

He sighs. “Fine. Yeah. All night.”

You stare at him. “Why?”

He shrugs, suddenly sheepish. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t wander off again and get yourself eaten.”

You frown. “You should’ve slept in your room.”

He smirks. “What, and miss out on babysitting you?”

You chuck a pillow at him.

He catches it easily and grins. But when he sees you holding his gaze, that grin softens.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he admits, quieter now.

Something gentle settles in your chest. You pull your blanket up and scoot slightly to the side.

“…There’s space. If you’re tired.”

He blinks at you. “Are you asking me to cuddle, orrrr…”

You glare. “I’m offering you a more comfortable sleeping arrangement.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

He slides in beside you carefully, so carefully, like you’ll break if he jostles you too much. And then you feel the warmth of him next to you, his presence steady and solid and safe.

“…This okay?” he murmurs, his voice a whisper in the dark.

You nod.

And slowly, slowly, you feel his fingers brush yours under the blanket. He doesn't hold your hand—not yet. Just touches.

Testing the waters.

You don’t pull away.

And in the silence that follows, you hear his breathing even out again.

But yours?

Yours is all over the place.

-

Morning sunlight filters through the barred window, casting soft stripes across your face.

You're warm. So warm.

Your cheek is pressed against something solid. Something that rises and falls gently beneath you. And there’s a hand resting at the small of your back, pulling you closer, keeping you there.

Your heart skips.

Your eyes blink open—and there he is.

Gojo Satoru. Asleep. Face relaxed and serene, messy white hair haloed in gold light. His other arm is curled under your pillow, supporting your head like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And you're lying on top of him.

Your breath catches in your throat.

You should move. You need to move.

But just as you're about to untangle yourself—

Click.

The door creaks open.

You freeze.

“Oh my god,” comes Shoko’s voice, casual, amused, and way too smug. “Well, well—what do we have here?”

You nearly leap out of bed, scrambling to sit up—only for your body to protest painfully, and you wince with a hiss.

Satoru wakes with a start, blinking up at Shoko in confusion before slowly realizing the position you're in.

“Oh,” he says blankly. “Morning, doc.”

You swat his shoulder. “Say something useful?!”

Shoko just leans against the doorway, arms crossed, grinning like she’s discovered the world’s juiciest secret. “No no, don’t let me interrupt. I was just checking on the patient, but clearly, she’s in very good hands.”

You’re burning. “It’s not what it looks like!”

Shoko raises a brow. “Oh, so you weren’t cuddled up like two lovebirds all night? Should I tell Nanami you’ve finally found someone willing to put up with your nonsense, Satoru?”

He stretches lazily and pulls the blanket back over himself with a smirk. “Actually, yeah. Tell him. Maybe then he’ll finally stop lecturing me about responsibility.”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “I’m never going to live this down.”

Shoko chuckles, walking away. “Nope. I’m telling everyone.”

The door clicks shut behind her.

Silence.

You glare at Satoru through your fingers. “This is your fault.”

He grins. “You offered me a spot on the bed, your majesty.”

You shove a pillow at him. He catches it—again.

And then he smiles, soft and teasing, voice still a little raspy from sleep.

“...So. Want me to sleep over again tonight?”

“Get out.”

-

The first few days are rough.

You try to walk without limping. Try to reach for things on your own. Try not to feel like a burden.

But then there’s him.

You wake up to warm food at your bedside, Satoru leaning against the doorframe with a smug grin. “Brought you breakfast in bed, sweetheart. Don’t get used to it—I’m not always this nice.”

He very much is.

He offers his arm without asking when you need support. Doesn’t mention it when you wince or grit your teeth. Just lets you lean on him, like you’ve always belonged there.

You try to carry something heavy across the hall—he appears out of nowhere, snatching it from your hands. “Tsk. You trying to die or what?”

You try to help in the kitchen. He catches you wobbling and swoops in with a hand around your waist. “Whoa there, Bambi. What happened to ‘taking it easy’?”

You try to sneak off to explore the base again. He corners you in the hallway with a look that says absolutely not. “You’re still healing, brat. Unless you want me to carry you everywhere again?”

Cue your entire face combusting.

He’s annoying. Cocky. Ridiculously persistent.

But…

He adjusts your blanket when you’re asleep on the couch. Tucks a water bottle by your side without saying anything. Teaches you how to balance properly on one foot so your ankle can recover without straining the other.

And at night, when you think everyone’s asleep, you catch him checking on you—quietly, carefully. Making sure you’re okay.

You pretend not to notice.

But your heart notices. It notices everything.

-

You stand in the middle of your room, shifting your weight onto your healed ankle, then back again. No pain. No tightness. Just a deep breath and the quiet realization:

You’re better. Finally.

The door creaks open without warning—because Satoru never knocks—and in he strolls with his usual swagger and two mugs in hand. “Morning, sweetheart. Brought you—"

He stops in his tracks.

You’re standing. Not limping. Not clutching the edge of the bed for balance.

Just… standing.

He squints, slowly lowering one mug. “...Why aren’t you in bed?”

You raise a brow. “Because I’m not dying?”

“Oh no. Absolutely not.” He sets the mugs down and points a very offended finger at you. “You don’t just get to get better without warning me. I was emotionally invested in this arc.”

You laugh. “Sorry to ruin your Florence Nightingale fantasy.”

“Ruin? Excuse you, I was thriving. Who’s gonna let me spoon-feed you now?”

You roll your eyes, limping toward him just to mess with him. “I could pretend, if it makes you feel better.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He walks over before you can say anything else—his hands hover, cautious at first, then one slides to your waist. “You really okay?”

You nod. “I’m good. Really.”

Satoru lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Then he grins. “Alright. Guess that means I can stop being your personal nurse and go back to being your favorite nuisance.”

You’re smiling. He’s back to teasing. But there’s a softness in his eyes that lingers a little too long, a thumb that brushes your hip before falling away.

He missed taking care of you.

And maybe, just maybe, you kind of miss being taken care of.

-

You’re jogging laps around the edge of the prison yard, the early morning chill nipping at your cheeks. It’s peaceful—quiet enough that your footsteps and the rhythmic beat of your breath are the only sounds you hear.

Until a familiar voice breaks through the silence.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite brat, back in action.”

You slow down, a smirk tugging at your lips as you turn toward the voice—and promptly choke on air.

Satoru.

Stretching.

Shirtless.

His snowy hair tousled from whatever ungodly workout he’s been doing, sweat gleaming on the hard lines of his chest and abs like the universe conspired to craft a Renaissance painting just to spite you. His sweats hang low on his hips, revealing that infuriating V-line that should not be legal in a post-apocalyptic society.

You blink. Once. Twice.

He grins, catching the way your eyes are very not subtly stuck on him.

“Like what you see?”

You scowl, instantly turning your gaze to a very fascinating patch of dirt on the ground. “Please. I’ve seen better.”

“Mmhm.” He takes a deliberate step forward, arms crossing over his annoyingly perfect chest. “Name one.”

“...”

“That’s what I thought.”

You huff and start jogging again, forcing your eyes to stay forward. But then he jogs up beside you—shirtless and smug, of course—and easily matches your pace.

“You sure you’re fully healed? What if you, I dunno… trip and fall again?” he says, tone mockingly sweet. “Need me to catch you, princess?”

“I’d rather faceplant into a zombie.”

He laughs, low and lazy. “I dunno, that sounds painful. Better to land on something soft. Like me.”

You glare at him, cheeks burning. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he nudges you playfully with his elbow, “you’re still jogging next to me. Who’s really winning here?”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth crawling up your neck. But deep down, you know.

He’s definitely winning.

-

After the jog, Satoru insists you “cool down” with some light sparring. You roll your eyes, but follow him to the training mats anyway. He’s already bouncing on his heels when you step in front of him, still shirtless, still smug.

“You sure you’re up for this?” he teases. “Wouldn’t want to break you again.”

“I’m more worried about bruising your ego,” you shoot back, taking your stance.

He whistles low. “Feisty. I like it.”

The sparring begins—light jabs, easy dodges. You’re nimble, focused, but he is... effortless. Every time you swipe at him, he ducks with a grin. When you go in for a kick, he sidesteps and lets out an exaggerated yawn.

“You done yet, sweetheart?” he asks, still dancing around you. “At this rate, I could do this blindfolded.”

“Shut up and hold still!” you lunge at him again—this time faster, bolder—but he grabs your wrist mid-swing and spins you around so fast the world tilts. Before you know it—

You’re pinned.

Back hits the wall. His hand holds your wrists above your head, other arm braced beside you. His body is dangerously close, breath fanning your cheek. His tone shifts, deeper. Rougher.

“You keep mouthing off like that,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming, “I might start thinking you want me to put you in your place.”

Your breath catches. “I—”

“Hmm?” he leans in, lips ghosting your jaw. “No witty comeback now?”

You try to move, but his grip tightens just slightly. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind you that this isn’t a game anymore.

“I could kiss you right now,” he whispers, “and there’s nothing you could do about it.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. “You wouldn’t.”

He smiles. Slow. Dangerous.

“Wanna bet?”

Your breathing is shallow, heat rising to your cheeks. You’re acutely aware of how close he is, the way his chest brushes against yours with every breath, the sharp glint in his eye, the smirk that’s far too smug for your sanity.

And then—

His lips graze your neck. Barely there. A soft brush of heat against your skin. You flinch—not out of fear, but from the jolt that shoots down your spine. Goosebumps bloom instantly. His breath tickles your skin.

“Sensitive,” he hums, lips ghosting up toward your jaw, “...cute.”

“Satoru—” you whisper, voice barely audible.

He pulls back just enough to look at you. His gaze drops to your lips, heavy and unblinking. And he leans in, slower this time, like he wants you to feel the anticipation. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat—

And then—

“AM I INTERRUPTING SOMETHING?”

You both jolt like you’ve been electrocuted.

Satoru spins around with a groan, still caging you against the wall. “Shoko. Seriously?”

She stands a few feet away, arms crossed, one brow cocked and a wicked smirk playing at her lips. “Wow. Could cut the tension with a scalpel. Should I come back later or just pass you a condom now?”

“Shoko,” you squeak, face on fire, squirming to escape Gojo’s hold.

He lets you go reluctantly, chuckling under his breath. “You wish you caught the good part.”

“I did catch the part where your face was buried in her neck like a starving vampire,” Shoko deadpans.

You bury your face in your hands.

Satoru just laughs. “You jealous?”

“Please. I'd rather not watch my coworkers dry hump in public,” she says, already turning on her heel. “Anyway. You two lovebirds done? I need one of you to help with supplies.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gojo waves her off. Then he glances back at you, still all flushed and flustered, and leans down one last time to whisper in your ear:

“To be continued, princess.”

And just like that, he strolls off like nothing happened.

You're left against the wall, heart pounding, neck tingling, completely and utterly undone.

-

It’s quiet for once.

Most of the clan is out on a supply run or patrolling the perimeter. You’d offered to stay behind, helping Shoko reorganize her medical supplies before wandering off with a basket of laundry—warm clothes folded under your arm as you pace the empty corridors of the prison, barefoot, relaxed.

You finally set the basket down in the communal quarters, humming under your breath while sorting through what belongs to who. It’s… peaceful. The late afternoon sun slants in through the high windows, bathing everything in warm light.

Until—

“Picking up where we left off?”

You jolt, nearly dropping the shirt in your hands.

Gojo.

Leaning against the doorframe, casual as ever, sleeves pushed up, hair a bit messy like he just woke from a nap. His eyes are glinting beneath the lazy droop of his lashes, and that smirk—that godforsaken smirk—is unmistakable.

He saunters in before you can get a word in.

“Geez, you sneak up on people like a damn ghost,” you mumble, cheeks already burning as you turn back to the laundry.

“Aw, don’t be shy now,” he teases, coming closer. “You weren’t so shy when I had you pinned against the wall.”

You stiffen. “You got interrupted. Big difference.”

“Oh? So you wanted me to kiss you?”

You glare at him over your shoulder, but he’s already behind you, arms slipping around your waist—loosely at first, giving you a chance to push him away.

You don’t.

“I was thinking about you,” he murmurs against your ear. “All damn day. Thought I’d come see how you were holding up without me.”

“I was fine,” you huff, but it’s so breathless it betrays you instantly.

He chuckles. “That right?”

His hands glide up your sides, slow and sure, fingertips teasing the hem of your shirt. “C’mon, sweetheart. Just admit it—you missed me.”

You turn in his arms, glaring—but it’s weak at best. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Maybe,” he leans in, forehead brushing yours, voice dropping, “but I still remember how fast your heart was beating last time.”

You swallow.

And this time? There’s no Shoko to walk in. No patrols due back. No reason to stop.

You hesitate for a beat.

And then you pull him in by the collar.

The kiss is feral. All teeth and tongue and breathless gasps. Weeks—months—of tension snapping all at once. His hands find your waist, gripping tight as he hoists you up like you weigh nothing.

“Fuck—” he groans against your lips. “You’ve been killing me, y’know that?”

You wrap your legs around his waist and tug him closer. “Good.”

He pulls back, grinning. “Oh, you wanna play it like that?”

You don’t get a chance to answer before he’s kissing down your jaw, your neck, dragging that maddening tongue of his down your collarbone. His hands are everywhere—palming your hips, your thighs, sliding under your shirt like he owns you.

Which, at this point, maybe he does.

“Tell me to stop,” he pants, hovering over your lips again. “Tell me now, and I will.”

You look him dead in the eyes, tug his shirt over his head, and whisper:

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Your back hits the nearest wall with a muffled gasp, Satoru’s mouth already on yours, hungry and hot. His hands roam your body like he’s memorizing it with touch alone, fingers tugging at fabric with a frustrated groan.

“Off,” he growls into the kiss, already pulling your shirt over your head like it's offended him. He sets you down to pull your pants down along with your panties. And the moment you’re bare before him, he stands back, breath catching in his throat. His eyes—icy blue and blown wide with lust—roam your figure, landing on your chest like he’s just been given the meaning of life.

“…Can I motorboat your tits?”

You blink.

You laugh, startled and breathless. “Are you—are you serious right now?”

His lips curve into a wolfish grin, and he’s already surging forward to kiss you again. “Maybe next time,” he mumbles between kisses. “I don’t think I can wait to taste you now.”

You arch a brow, teasing, breath catching when he trails his mouth down your jaw. “Next time?”

He chuckles, low and dark. “You think I’m letting you off the hook after this?” His hands slide down your waist, thumbs stroking your hips. “Nah, sweetheart. I’m gonna ruin you.”

Then he sinks to his knees.

The grin fades into something hungrier, more reverent as he kisses the inside of your thigh, dragging his teeth gently across soft skin. “Spread ‘em for me,” he says, voice a whisper but firm. And when you do, he groans like he’s just tasted something forbidden.

You cry out the second his tongue touches you, hands flying to grip his hair. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t want to. It’s slow, torturous—his pace deliberate as he works you open, devouring like a man starved. His moans vibrate against your skin, and when your legs tremble, he just pins them open wider, groaning, “That’s it… let me hear you, baby.”

Your back arches as Satoru licks another slow, devastating stripe up your core, tongue curling at your entrance before he moves to suck gently on your clit. Your fingers tighten in his hair, thighs instinctively trying to close around his head—but his arms loop under your knees, spreading you wider, holding you open like he owns you.

“You're not going anywhere,” he mutters, eyes flicking up, glazed over with lust and something dangerous. “Told you. I’m gonna ruin you.”

Then he’s back at it—slower this time, tongue flattening against you, then circling, dragging soft groans out of you as the tension coils tight in your belly. He eats you out like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you, savoring every movement, every moan he draws. He alternates between deep, dragging strokes and sharp, teasing flicks, lips closing around your clit to suck just hard enough to make your breath hitch.

You cry out, hips bucking up into his mouth, and he growls—low and throaty—as if turned on by how wrecked you already are.

"Fuck—so sweet," he groans, voice muffled against you. “Could stay down here all night.”

And he means it. He shifts slightly, tongue plunging into you now, slow and shallow, nose nudging your clit as he drinks in every sound you make like it fuels him. Every little tremble, every whimper—he devours it.

He doesn’t stop. Not when you start trembling, not when you whine his name in warning. He keeps going, lips slick and relentless, until—

Your vision whites out. Your body tightens, back bowing, mouth falling open on a silent scream as you fall over the edge, pleasure shattering through you like a storm.

Only then does he pull back, lips and chin glistening. He breathes hard, eyes dark and blown, grinning like he just won a war.

“That’s the sound I wanted to hear.”

He stands up again to pick you up, carrying you to the nearby table, settling you on it, completely bare under the low light, legs parted slightly, chest heaving. You’re flushed, trembling—not from fear, but anticipation. Nerves. Heat. It’s all crashing together in your head, and he sees it.

His hands move to his waistband, fingers curling beneath the fabric of his pants. He tugs them down with practiced ease, freeing himself—and your breath catches.

Your eyes drift down instinctively, and your stomach tightens at the sight of him. He’s big. Thick, flushed, already hard and aching.

Your pulse stutters, nerves flickering to the surface. “Oh…”

“Hey,” he says gently, fingers brushing your cheek. “You okay?”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “It’s just… I’ve never done this before.”

Satoru freezes for a moment. His expression doesn’t shift much—but his eyes, bright and blue, soften in an instant.

“…You haven’t?” he asks quietly, tone a stark contrast to the sinful smirk he wore earlier. You shake your head.

He exhales slowly, like he’s grounding himself. Then he leans in and kisses you—slow, patient, loving.

“Well, fuck,” he murmurs against your lips. “Now I really have to behave.”

You blink up at him. “You? Behave?”

He chuckles, brushing his thumb over your lower lip. “Okay, maybe not completely. But I’ll go slow. Make it good for you. You trust me, right?”

You nod.

“Good.” His voice drops a little. “Then let me take care of you, yeah?”

He’s gentle—so gentle it almost breaks you. His lips move from your mouth to your jaw, down your neck, to your chest. He pauses there, kissing over your breasts, fingers caressing your sides as though you might disappear if he’s not careful.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes. “Gonna remember this forever.”

When he finally lines himself up, he doesn’t rush. He keeps kissing you, whispering into your skin.

“Breathe with me,” he says. “Nice and easy, baby. Just relax.”

The stretch burns, but his voice never leaves you. His hands never stop moving—stroking your sides, brushing your hair from your face, thumbing away the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs. “So tight, fuck—squeezing me like you were made for me.”

Your breath catches, eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at me,” he says softly, “I wanna see your face.”

You meet his eyes—blown wide with emotion, affection, reverence. And that’s when he starts to move. Slowly, so slowly you can feel everything. Every drag, every pull.

“Feels good?” he asks, and when you nod, he smiles like you’ve just handed him the universe.

“You’re perfect,” he groans, picking up pace just a little. “Takin’ me so well, sweetheart. My pretty girl, lettin’ me be her first.”

You moan—part embarrassment, part bliss—and he kisses the sound from your mouth.

“Can’t believe no one’s touched you like this before,” he mutters against your skin. “But I’m glad. Glad it’s me. Glad I get to show you.”

He starts rolling his hips deeper, each thrust slow and purposeful, coaxing pleasure out of you bit by bit.

“Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

You’re already gasping—your body burning, overstimulated from the build-up and the way he moves inside you. Every drag of him is a stretch, a delicious ache, and you’re trying so hard to keep up, to breathe, to hold yourself together—but it’s too much.

And then it hits.

Your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave—louder, sharper, more intense than the last—and your body tightens instinctively, your walls fluttering around him like they don’t want to let him go.

“Fuck—” Satoru’s voice breaks, a guttural groan tumbling from his throat as he stills, trembling above you. “You’re gonna ruin me, baby…”

His grip tightens on your waist, jaw clenched as he tries to hold back—but you’re squeezing him so tight, so perfect, and his restraint shatters.

“You’re killin’ me,” he grits out, starting to move again—deeper, slower, more intentional—but there’s an edge of desperation now. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged. “Feels so good—fuck, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You shake your head, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t stop,” you whimper, barely able to form the words. “Please…”

He kisses you hard—like he can’t help himself, like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. “You’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart. So, so good…”

“‘Toru-” you whimper.

That breaks him.

He groans, slamming into you harder, mouth finding your neck as he nips and kisses down to your collarbone. “Fuck. Say it again.”

You whimper again, brain hazy. “‘Toru…”

He kisses you slow then, deeper. Rough pace never faltering, but his hands gentler now—one wrapping around your waist, the other brushing the hair from your face.

“Mine,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’re mine now, yeah?”

You nod desperately, legs locking around his hips. “Yours.”

“Damn right,” he grits, driving into you harder, chasing both your highs with everything he has.

The overstimulation has tears stinging your eyes, your legs trembling, voice catching on every moan. And when that next orgasm builds too fast, too hard—it snaps through you like a live wire. Your body arches off the table, clamping down around him again—

—and Satoru snaps.

“Shit—take it, baby. Let me fill you up, yeah? Gonna make you mine, fuck, you already are—look at you...” he chokes out, thrusting deep one last time before he comes, spilling into you with a long, breathless groan. His arms wrap around you as if to anchor himself, holding you so close, like he needs to feel every inch of you, inside and out.

“Look at you,” he murmurs between pants, pressing kisses across your face. “Takin’ me so well… You’re mine now, yeah? All mine.”

You nod, dazed and boneless, wrapped in his warmth.

And he stays like that, inside you, forehead resting against yours as he murmurs soft, reverent praises—like this wasn’t just your first time.

Like it was everything.

Your body’s still trembling—nerves fried, skin flushed, heart thudding against your chest as if it’s trying to burst free. You’re barely aware of anything except the warm, strong arms pulling you into a careful embrace, the kiss he presses to your temple like it’s the most sacred thing he could ever do.

“Hey…” Satoru murmurs, voice all honey and rasp, rough around the edges but impossibly gentle. “You okay?”

You nod, chest rising and falling against his, cheeks still hot, but there’s a smile on your lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Just… wow.”

He laughs softly, the sound low and breathy as his fingers brush along your spine in lazy, soothing strokes. “You were incredible,” he says, and he means it. Every word. “So good for me. So perfect.”

Your face scrunches with a flustered noise, burying it into his shoulder. “Stop…”

“Never,” he grins, nosing into your hair. “You don’t get to be all pretty and sweet and make those sounds and expect me to stay quiet about it.”

You groan. “Satoru—”

“Shhh.” 

His palm rests on your back as he holds you close, thumb drawing lazy circles. You can still feel the dull, pleasant ache of him inside you, the heat he left behind. His breath is warm against your cheek. Safe. Comforting.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmurs again, pressing a kiss just beneath your jaw. “First time and you still managed to rock my fucking world.”

Your heart stutters. “Wasn’t just the sex,” you say quietly.

He stills for half a second—and then he smiles, soft and genuine.

“I know,” he whispers.

You’re still breathless, body flushed and boneless in his arms when Satoru gathers you close, lips pressed gently to your temple. The air between you is warm, quiet save for the distant hum of life around the base. He shifts a little, glancing down at the table beneath you both, and you catch that flicker in his eyes—guilt, soft and creeping.

“I should’ve…” he starts, voice low, almost sheepish. “Shit, I should’ve taken you somewhere better. A bed, a blanket, something that wasn’t a hardass table. It was your first time and I just—” He pauses, brows pinching like the regret’s eating at him now. “I got selfish.”

You lift your hand to his cheek, thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth. “Hey,” you whisper, leaning in until your lips ghost over his, shutting him up with a kiss so soft, so full of emotion it makes his heart stutter.

When you pull back, your smile is small but sure. “It was more than okay. Because it was with you.”

Satoru blinks, breath caught in his throat. And for once, the man with a mouth like a wildfire doesn’t have anything to say.

Until he pulls you tighter into his chest and mutters, “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You just grin into his skin. “Guess we’ll go down together then.”

Then silence. Not awkward, not tense—just full of warmth. Full of everything. His arms around you. Your fingers laced with his.

You don’t say it. Not yet. But maybe one day soon.

For now, the way he holds you like you’re something to be cherished?

It’s more than enough.

author's note. finally have time to post consistently! last month or two were BUSY so couldn't do much </3 i'm proud of how this one turned out ^^ also, shoko is such a baddie i love her