Xkoutarou - He Hurt Me But It Felt Like True Love

When he can do both

itoshi sae does not exaggerate. he finds the whole idea of making a big deal out of nothing to be repulsive.

still, he swears that he feels physically ill whenever you’re not around.

(it’s the first reason of many he’ll ever give you when you tell him you have to leave for more than a day.)

“my head hurts.”

you don’t even look at him.

he frowns, “my head hurts a lot.”

“that’s too bad,” you say absentmindedly, “you should take some medicine for that.”

“i already did.” (he did not.) “it didn’t do anything.” (because he doesn’t need it.)

his frowns deepens when he notices you’re still focused on packing your things in a duffel bag. (his duffel bag. the one he was sure he’d hidden from you. the one you weren’t supposed to find.)

he calls out your name. his expression softens when you look at him.

“my stomach hurts.”

his lips quirk up just a tiny bit when you give him an annoyed look.

“sae.”

“my stomach really hurts.” he whines, slumping against the bed. a smile spreads through his lips when you cross your arms.

“you should take some medicine for that,” you frown, “even if you are sick, i have to go to this field trip.”

he takes out one of your shirts from the duffel bag, “says who?”

“my teacher.” you pry it off his hands, “my grade.”

you stick your tongue out at him, stuffing your shirt back into the bag, “my conscience.”

“but you’ll be gone for too long,” he sighs dramatically.

“it’s literally just two days.” you deadpan.

“like i said,” he pouts, “too long.”

you sigh, moving to sit down on the bed, “i’ll bring you a souvenir.”

a smile tugs at your lips when he perks up. you reach out to run your hand through his hair.

sae leans into your touch, “i’d rather have you stay than have a stupid souvenir.”

you hum, “wanna know a secret?”

he nods, curiosity swimming in his eyes. a small smile blooms on his lips.

“i kinda really don’t wanna go.” you mumble.

“just stay, then.” he tugs you closer to him.

you sigh, slumping against him. “i can’t. it’s worth a chunk of my grade.”

sae frowns, flicking your forehead, “just say you had a family emergency.”

“i said that last time.” you click your tongue. “i don’t think my teacher would believe that again.”

an amused laugh leaves his lips. “say you’re sick, then.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” you tease, “besides i may or may not have already told my teacher i’d go.”

sae sits up, a look of disbelief on his face, “you what?”

“i already said i’d go,” you sheepishly smile at him.

sae flops back onto the bed, brows furrowed and pouting, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“you would’ve insisted you were sick to stop me from going,” you lean over him. “like you were doing a while ago.”

he looks away from you, flushing. “i don’t know what you mean.”

you smile, poking his nose, “i’m sure you don’t.”

he bites back a smile when you press a quick peck on his cheek.

“but if you were feeling sick, i know you’d go take some medicine instead of exaggerating just to get me to stay.”

he pouts. your smile widens. he tugs you down towards him, “you suck.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” you laugh.

you lay on his chest for a while, sae’s arms snug around you. he rests his cheek on top of your head.

“do you really have to go?”

“‘m afraid so,” you sigh, nuzzling into him. “i promise i’ll text you whenever i can.”

“you better,” he smiles, “you also have to call me.”

“i promise i will.” you laugh.

you squeak when he squeezes you, laughter leaving his lips.

“sae.” you mumble.

“yeah?”

you lift yourself off his chest, looking at him. “i have to finish packing.”

he groans, “finish later. you should nap with me instead.”

you playfully stick your tongue out at him. “you and i both know if i take a nap with you i’m never going to finish packing.”

he shrugs, sighing, “it was worth a shot.”

you sit up, brows raising in surprise when sae sits up after you.

“just because i’m not gonna nap doesn’t mean you can’t,” you tilt your head to the side.

sae stretches his arms up, yawning, “if i help you pack, you’ll take a nap with me sooner.”

he gingerly cups your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss. he hums against your lips.

“besides,” he pulls away, smiling, “if i help you pack, you’ll have to bring me back a souvenir as a reward.”

you laugh, “if you say so.”

sae’s not much help with packing. he just unceremoniously stuffs your remaining clothes into the duffel bag, scoffing when you tell him he’s doing it wrong.

(still, you bring him back a souvenir when you come home from your trip. as a way to both thank him for helping you pack, and as an apology because you’ll have to go on another trip soon.)

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ “MY BOYFRIEND IS GONNA KICK YOUR ASS !”

WINDBREAKER BOYS PROTECTING YOU FROM PERVS. ft. kaji ren, togame jo, umemiya hajime, sakura haruka, hayato suo, toma hiragi, kiryuu mitsuki, & kyotaro sugishita x f!reader

sfw. wc: 2.6K. oh how i’ve been wanting to write this since i finished the manga! but individual warnings are below <3

KAJI REN.

referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ comments about your outfit

“my boyfriend’s real scary y’know,” your voice falters a bit as you take another step back, hands coming up defensively. “and he’ll be here any moment.”

it’s a lie that you hope sounds convincing— because kaji coming to save you today may be nothing more than a desperate wish of yours. how would he even find you in a place like this? you’re not sure exactly how much time has past by since you’ve started running, but you’re certain that by now, you and kaji should have already been inside the bakery, finally getting to taste test the new fruit pastries you’d been dying to get your hands on.

it started off as just a loud whistle your direction, then led to an uncomfortable conversation about how you’re not interested— and that you have a boyfriend. one thing led to another, and somehow you’ve ended up here, out of breath from speed walking and completely lost— and to top it off, the only person near you is the one you’ve been running so desperately from.

you wish kaji was here already.

"oh yeah?" the man in front of you takes a step towards you, lips contorting into a sick grin when he sees your hands trembling, "i don't see him."

your lips tremble a bit when he reaches you, towering over you with ease. “don’t you dare touch me,” you warn, “my boyfriend will beat your a—” you yelp as you’re suddenly pulled to the side, stumbling into someone’s chest as they pull you flush against their chest.

the familiar scent of candy melts away your fear in a split second.

"kaji!"

you can tell when you glance at him just once that he isn’t happy. his forehead is damp with sweat, and he looks disheveled, chest rising up and down with labored breaths— he must have been running around trying to find you this entire time.

your boyfriend clicks his tongue in annoyance, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the man in front of him. “problem?”

he rips off his headphones, letting them hang around his neck as the man feigns an apology, unapologetic eyes looming over your figure again seconds later. “but y’know man, you should be keeping a closer eye on your girl,” he points to you with a smug smile, “she was practically begging for me to say something with the way she’s dressed.”

“i wasn’t!” you protest, face burning as you tug on ren’s coat. you thought your outfit was cute— and definitely not anything crazy— you double checked. you really did. but he’s pointing at you now, rambling on about how you wanted this— and you can’t help the way tears start to blur your vision.

"huh?" kaji snarls, head tilting to leer at the man. the arm around your waist pulls you tighter against his chest, and you hear the angry thumping of his heart. "what'd you say?"

“okay, okay, i’m leaving now,” the man chuckles in defeat, “i was just joking. wasn’t gonna actually do something to your girl,” he waves him off. “you should lighten up—”

he chokes when kaji grabs a fistful of his shirt, pulling him off balance before knocking him backwards, your pursuer falling roughly onto the floor as he winces in pain. “then get outta here already,” kaji glares, a stark contrast to the gentle way his hand is pressing against your lower back to guide you away.

“and don’t let me catch you looking at my girl again.”

TOGAME JO.

referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ you wear his jacket

togame gives you a sleepy smile as he watches you from miniso’s entrance, excitedly sorting through the newly restocked blind boxes. he was resting his back against the wall behind him when he caught his first glimpse of that guy.

he’s wearing a dark hoodie, head turning back to shamelessly stare your direction as he passes by slowly. it’s enough to get togame back up on his feet immediately, quickly heading your way just as the man reaches to get a feel of your thighs—

“how shameless,” togame laughs, big hand squeezing painfully into his wrist. “tryna bother my girl?”

in any other situation, togame would chuckle at your obliviousness, your headphones cancelling out any noise as your eye catches the cinnamoroll section, letting out an excited gasp as you head that way. you really had no idea.

“m-my bad man,” he stutters, ripping his arm from togame’s grasp, “just thought she was my sister— was just gonna tap on her back to grab her attention.”

togame raises an eyebrow at the lazy excuse, leaning down until the man takes a nervous step back, eyes darting to the side to avoid togame’s glare. “sister? that’s my shishitoren jacket she has on, no?”

the man feels heavy beads of sweat roll down his face when togame’s hands curl into clenched fists. “you mean to tell me your lil sis is from shishitoren?”

“i said it was my bad,” he repeats, chuckling nervously. “it won’t happen again okay? i won’t bother her again.”

togame’s hands return to his pockets. “won’t let you off so easy next time,” his voice is low as he steps aside to let him off, “so you’d better keep your distance.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME.

referred to as she/her, ‘your girl’

umemiya instinctively perks up when he hears two voices behind him, momentarily tuning out your gushing about how cute the little plant kits at barnes and noble are.

"….she's probably taken."

"is that her boyfriend behind her? think she's talking to him."

there's a chuckle between them. "doesn't matter. go tell her what you just said to me when she's alone."

"what," the man laughs, "ask her if i can grab a handful of that ass?"

more laughter.

umemiya’s jaw clenches, eyes darting back at you in a flash, and he’s relieved when he sees you’re still gushing about the flower kits— completely oblivious to the two men just beyond this aisle. he’s by your side in an instant, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“oh,” you turn to press a quick kiss against his temple, smiling when he melts into your touch. “hi, ume. did you find a book?”

"nothing here," he sighs dramatically, his embrace around your middle tightening just enough for you to barely notice, “but we can grab some of those flower kits.”

"really?"

“of course—”

“hey,” a familiar voice interrupts him with a stifled laugh, followed by a tap on his shoulder. with the roughness, it’s more like a jab— but he lets that slide.

“ah— your friend, ume,” your voice comes off as a mix between a question and a statement.

“hey, my friend has something to ask your girl.”

ume’s jaw clenches again, and your eyes widen a bit at the sudden change in the atmosphere. the first friend’s hand is swat off of ume’s shoulder in a split second, ume straightening back up to look back at them.

their first thought is that he’s a lot taller than they had pictured. a lot more muscular too— and they take note of the way his muscles bulge against the fabric of his shirt. “what, you have business with her?”

they flinch at the tone.

“ah— sorry,” the second friend stutters, “we got the wrong person.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

“ah— what happened?” your hands delicately cup sakura’s face, ignoring the way his cheeks instantly turn into a deep shade of scarlet. “n-nothing happened!” he weakly swats at your hand, a futile attempt to dissipate the heat spreading through the tips of his ears.

“i was only in the bathroom for five minutes,” you laugh, “how’d you manage to get into a fight so fast?”

he stiffens when your arms come to wrap around his bicep, resuming your ramble about some recipe you wanted to try tonight. macarons…or something. he doesn’t pay much attention, because he knows whatever you end up making will be good anyway.

“—are you listening, sakura?”

the clueless look he gives you confirms it. “so you weren’t. i had a feeling— but it’s okay,” you giggle. “but you didn’t answer my question from earlier either. how’d you get into a fight?”

his eyebrows furrow deeply as he decides whether or not he should tell you. “they were….” he clicks his tongue angrily, “they were talking about you when you walked by.”

you can feel his muscles tense as he deepens his scowl, still trying to fight off the blush plastered across his face, “i just gave ‘em what they deserved.”

HAYATO SUO.

referred to as she/her, mentions of how you’re dressed

"what a bitch. she was totally asking for it.”

"i know— dressed like a whore."

suo stands up from the bench outside your local convenience store, hands dusting off the dirt on his pants. you had asked him to wait outside earlier because 'you wanted to grab him a super yummy snack that he will definitely love!'

he had a feeling the two dirty men who entered the store minutes later were bad news, so he was already on high alert before listening in.

"that whore— you mean my girlfriend?" suo's voice comes out calm, a stark contrast to the sickening anger and pressure he feels building up inside his chest.

"huh—oh. yeah," one of them chuckles, jutting their thumb at the entrance, "that bitch inside your girl? you let her prance around with her tits hanging out for everyone to see?"

he's calm and composed as they size him up, their chins tilting up to look down at him. "she's pretty, isn't she?" and suo fails to stifle the chuckle that escapes his lips, "did she reject you too harshly for your liking?"

one of them balls his fists, muttering profanities under his breath as he leans closer to him. "now how'd you know that? you should really teach that bitch some fucking manners," he reaches forward to grab suo by the collar, eyes blinking in confusion when he finds himself spun behind suo seconds later, feet struggling to find their balance.

“—the fuck did you do?”

"it's a bad habit of hers," suo continues, "i understand it though, not wanting to be around a pathetic thing like you," the edges of his lips tug into a faint smile.

the other man's eyebrows twitch, spitting empty threats as he he throws a wide swing, only to find himself reduced to his knees seconds later. "t-the fuck..." he grumbles to himself— he could have sworn he could practically see his fist connect. what happened?

"you'd be better off looking for someone to protect yourself the way i do for her," his tone is mocking as he heads towards the store's entrance, "and— it'd be really unfortunate if i see something like this happen again."

TOMA HIRAGI.

"h-hiragi? what are you doing?"

your lips are pressed in a nervous line as your hands come to shyly rest on his chest, sucking in a breath when his arms come to roughly cage you against the train's walls, strong body towering just over yours.

“do you…need more space?” you mumble, heart racing at the proximity. you can smell his cologne so well at this distance.

hiragi simply shakes his head, distracted gaze shifting between you and something behind him every few seconds. "it’s okay."

he swears his stomach isn't churning like this without good reason. it’s not just a coincidence that the same person who he had noticed eyeing you at the boba shop had gotten onto the same train. he could let it go at that, but the same man had been slowly worming his way through the crowd to get closer to the two of you. and while he’s not certain, he thought he saw the man take out his phone and try and angle it beneath you, but not before jolting and dropping his phone onto the floor when hiragi's hands abruptly slammed against the wall beside you.

the train suddenly rocks, sliding his phone to the other side of the train, and you’re knocked off balance, face slamming against hiragi's chest. "s-sorry!"

“it’s okay,” he smiles, hand coming to cradle the back of your head and pull you closer, “you okay?”

"i'm okay..." you mumble, rubbing the bridge of your nose, "your chest is hard.”

he responds with a light chuckle. it’ll be okay like this, he thinks. he’ll protect you with his body for now, and figure out what to do with that guy later.

KIRYUU MITSUKI.

‘pretty thing’

"it's no wonder she doesn't like you," kiryuu sighs, "you're gross."

your mouth is ajar as you stare at the state of the man who was harassing you only moments ago, his unconscious body resting neatly against the wall after kiryuu had dragged him there.

"sorry you had to watch that, pretty thing," his hand comes to gently interlace with yours, "but he didn't leave me with much of a choice, did he?"

"it's okay," you whisper, "that was so cool of you."

his eyes widen a bit before his lips curl into a small smile. "you think so?"

"mhm. i don't know what would've happened to me if you were there..." your voice trails off a bit.

you really don't know what would have happened, because it's not like you know how to fight or anything. getting hit on is enough to make you nervous, so a pushy guy like that was too much— you froze up as soon as he started spitting threats after you expressed your disinterest.

there's a light squeeze around your hands, and you're reminded of this gentle warmth that kiryuu always brings with him. "don't worry about it," he says with a small smile, "i'll just need to accompany you more often when you go out. it’s no problem.”

KYOTARO SUGISHITA.

“you’re like a bodyguard, kyo.”

you giggle at the huff beside you. “how’d you even react that fast?”

it all happened within a second. you were walking beside him, stopped for a brief second to bend down and peer at the plushies lining the shop window, not noticing the man approaching you— his grimy fingers coming to take a peek under your skirt. before you had even registered the feeling of the cloth moving, there was a loud crack, and the man was on the floor, groaning with his hands covering his bloodied face and a very angry sugishita on top of him.

“he made me angry.”

of course he would be. and if you weren’t with your boyfriend, it would be a different story. you’d bring along your assortment of self defense items, ranging from pepper sprays to taser lipsticks— and you’d be a thousand times more cautious, paying extra close attention to everything around you.

with sugishita, however, it’s different. you think of it as being able to turn off your brain… or something like that. whatever lets you truly relax and enjoy your time with him, and it’s always okay because your boyfriend is there to protect you. “well, don’t be so mad, cutie,” you muse, your fingers reaching to interlace with his as he tenses at the nickname.

“everything is okay— i’m okay. i’ll get us smoothies to help lighten the mood.”

he lets you drag him to your favorite smoothie shop in silence— still fuming about the incident. he wonders why you’re not shaken up. if he had been one second later, that piece of shit would have lifted up your skirt. in public. his jaw clenches at the thought, angry eyes darting at any anyone who dares look your direction.

“why’re…” his voice trails off, remembering what ume said about toning down his choice of words around others, “…why’re you so happy?”

“hmm? i’m not too worried,” you chuckle, “you’re my bodyguard right? nothing will happen if you’re here.”

note: wanted to add endo & some others but hit the 10 photo limit, so pls let me know in a reblog / ask if you’d be interested in a pt 2 <3

All For One

TW: nsfw, noncon, yandere, captive reader, mind deterioration

fem reader

All For One has a habit of subjugating you for his own pleasure. 

It’s a game he likes to play—quite like chess, only… you start off with a single pawn, and you don’t know any of the rules. And he’s been world champion ten years in a row. And he plays dirty.

Tonight, he’s dressed you up in a costume. Not any old Halloween costume, but a slutty one. Not a playboy bunny or a maid, nor a schoolgirl—this was worse—a sleazy rendition of your old hero uniform.

You’d barely recognized the faintly familiar design when he first laid it out on the bed for you. Silly and naïve, you thought his games of derision would end when you finally offered your submission, but that was a fool’s thought. What fun were you if not proof of his undying victory—a reminder, a trophy, a relic?

It’s beyond degrading. Tight and revealing. Less than an actual costume, it was more something one would wear in the bedroom, cosplaying for some fantasy starring an overly sexualized you. Only God knows where he’d gotten it from.

Your steel armor, once with the dignity of a knight, had instead been swapped out for a silly silver bikini—the shimmery fabric tacky and cheap, allowing your nipples to peak forth. Covering it was a top and a skirt made up of silver chains, which only further mocked the appearance of chainmail—looking more like the jewelry a stripper might wear.

He’d forgone your helmet, boots, and sword entirely. Truly, if it weren’t for the detailing of the pattern making the fabric vaguely resemble plated armor, it wouldn’t have been much different from any other set of lingerie.

And still, it’s just similar enough to make it sting.

“Look at you...” he jeers, his voice sodden with taunt—carmine stare faded and gleeful, thoroughly enjoying it. “What a sight for sore eyes.”

He stands behind you in the mirror, holding you delicately by the hips, intimately close, dressed in another one of his black suits, fully clothed in devastating contrast to you. His smile curls as he roams your ill-covered body, kissed with the flush of chagrin, leering at you in the reflection—his voice slithering right by your ear.

“Though I can’t say I remember it being quite so revealing, can you?” he jokes, running his hands up and down your waist, fiddling some with the intricacies—metal daintily clinking and clangoring. “No, there’s something else that’s different...”

You feel so humiliated, so small—as if he could hold you up by the scruff of your neck with ease. It isn’t just a feeling—you’re well aware that he most likely could.

“Why yes, of course…” he hums with delayed realization—you know he’s faking for anticipation, chittering while wrapping his thick arms around your tiny midsection, giving you a firm squeeze. “You’ve lost all muscle.”

It’s a painful truth. You don’t know how many months it’s been. Perhaps a year has passed already, maybe even more. He keeps you well aware of his triumph in the outside world, but time still eludes you.

You’d tried maintaining it in the beginning, even after he’d taken your quirk. You’d been vigilant, keeping up your workout regimens just as religiously as before. But you couldn’t pick what you ate, nor when—and he’d only feed you cake. It wasn’t long before all your hard-earned muscles had melted away like popsicle syrup off the stick, licked and lapped right up by the man holding you.

“Mmh, yes…” he murmurs gratingly while swaying you back against him, lips pressing against your ear. “And it’s left you oh-so-soft.”

His bulbous crotch slots against your upper ass, resting there as it grows fatter and warm—a sign of his enjoyment. The weight of him makes you feel all but paper-thin.

His voice rasps now. “If I were to give you your quirk back, I wager you wouldn’t even be able to use it anymore—it would sooner rip your poor limbs apart.”

It’s beyond cruel to suggest—as if disgracing your old costume wasn’t enough torment already. You bite your lip, gnaw it harshly—don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t let him see you cry.

“Isn’t that just fascinating?” He gives your earlobe a gentle bite, and the whimper in your throat springs free like prey out of hiding.

A sniffle shortly followed—along the dribble of the night’s very first tears. Your diminished spirit has made you all too prone to cry as if there’s nothing else for you to do but indulge in the small comfort it gives.

“Oh, sweetie—don’t weep over prowess long since lost. It was never enough to challenge me anyway,” he coos, as if consoling you—swaying your smaller brittle body back against his looming chest, a cage that seemed to swallow you whole.

Steering your jaw, he holds your face still before the mirror, unable to look away as the tears dribble down your sorry cheeks—he smears them further with a kiss.

“The world would chew you up as you are now, fragile like glass.” The grin curling his lips makes you resemble prey caught on a predator’s teeth—you can’t help but shiver at the sight of it. You wish he wouldn’t toy with you like food and just kill you already. “Mark my words, hero—the belly of the beast would not grant you as much comfort as I do.”

His other hand slips down to cup your mound—firmly, with a squeeze that has you curl yourself back against him as he presses two tough fingerpads into your clothed clit, rubbing it tightly enough to make your thighs shake.

“You’re better off like this,” he grunts, snickers at how your weak hands clutch the sleeve of his suit, curling the fabric in your palms until your knuckles whiten—watching the furrow further crease between your cinched brows as you try and bite back your pathetic little sounds even as more tears come tumbling down your swollen cheeks. “Mh, my pretty plaything.”

He makes you continue to look at yourself as he simply slides the panty to the side of your cunt. Encouraging you to place your hands flat against the mirror as he bends you forward, then to step back and stand atop his dress shoes.

“Don’t be shy now,” he makes sure to tell you. “You’re as light and negligible as a feather.”

He parts his feet and yours along with them, spreading your thighs enough to accommodate the fat heat he soon slides between them. Rigid and veiny, it competes with the size of your forearm—so thick that when he slaps it up against your slit, your knees buckle from the impact.

His chuckles rumble across your body like an earthquake. You only realize how much it makes you shake when he encloses your hip in his big hand, steadying you. Holding you still as he drags his engorged cockhead through your lips, catching your clit before resting on your entrance.

You’re so sore from prior nights—countless hours locked in this room with his visits the only thing keeping you company—everything has yet to forgive you for the wreckage those visits leave behind. Your sorry little puss rues and dreads another defeat now as he sinks inside the comfort of your battered walls, one unyielding inch at a time. 

You wince and tense, shoulders bracing, and yet he pushes deeper, sliding you down his shaft until you rest at the hilt of his base, kneading the tip into your gummy womb, giving it a deep kiss that bulges out from your poor belly.

The sight in the mirror is morbid, even more so than the feeling—the way he molds your insides to fit him, to cater and house his length and size. 

“Ah—just perfect, isn’t it, hero?” he purrs, chest resting heavily upon your spine while dwarfing both your hips in a firm grip, chin-stubble scraping along your neck as his voice comes out hot against your ear, “Obedience suits you so well, don’t you agree?”

Your knees buckle once he starts the heavy pace—slowly pounding into you from behind, dragging out and pushing deep in womb-robbing thrusts. You pant from the toll of it, feeling your muscles give—too tired and too broken to continue acting tough. He’s the only reason you’re left upright on your feet—keeping you standing with just his hold on your haunches. It seems like nothing to him, though it feels like the weight of the world to you.

“It’s only a shame it had to come with all these scars.” He clicks his tongue, eyes raking across your body as it takes him, resting on each mark disrupting the otherwise milk-smooth skin. “If only you’d accepted your place sooner.”

The ember burning within you is all but a piece of cooling charcoal now. You feel it diminish every day, leaving you even thinner than before.

“But then again, I quite enjoy you like this—littered with my battle scars from your toes up to your crown. It’s rather intimate, isn’t it?” he hums with a smile. “Proof of all the times I could’ve quashed you beneath my foot like a pitiful bug but decided to spare you. Teach you how to worship like the weak ought to.”

There was a time when you still humored the thought of killing him, even with your quirk taken from you. You thought, in your foolishness, that being this close to him must garner an opportunity, any, however slim, just enough for you to take advantage and finish what you vowed to end so long ago.

Now, you almost don’t care anymore. The world had moved on without you, and there was nothing more you could do about it.

You realize your promise had been as cheap as this outfit.

“The greater the fall, the sweeter the surrender, isn’t that right?” he states. “Doesn’t it feel good to finally accept your place in the world, hero?”

You can only nod your head and agree.

♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

Soak

yandere!stepbrother!Bokuto x f!reader

Anonymous request: Hello! Could a make a request for a small fic with yandere!stepbrother!bokuto x female!reader where he’s making her take a bath with him and it’s all kinda wholesome until he starts to get aroused and then fucks her in the bathtub?🥺👉👈 Maybe make it kinda non-con-y, pretty please? You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to:) have a good day!

a/n: thank you for your request! But a small fic? I cannot for the life of me write anything short… Please forgive me! It’s mostly smut though, with not as much plot. Which is new for me and makes me a little nervous. I hope you enjoy reading it!

Warnings and tags: smut, yandere themes, delusional mindset, stepcest (pseudo-incest), noncon/rape, ruined orgasm

You sigh blissfully when you sink into the tub. Warmth immediately spreads through your body, melting away your worries. The knots in your shoulders loosen and the steam rising up from the bubbly water’s surface dampens your face. The sweet, flowery smell of soap floods your senses.

You close your eyes and smile contentedly. It’s been a stressful week at college and you’re glad to have come home to an empty house for the weekend. So you allow yourself a little alone time. Something you hardly do anymore, with your nosy roommates always around.

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mimi i'm 100% sure u made me into a thirsty bitch for tsumu, like i'd read the fics and they were good! but idk he just never peaked my interest outside of that but today...idk i saw a post abt baby tsumu on twitter and i immediately thought what it'd be like with me in a mating press and him just going balls deep to make tiny tsumus sjfbdbfjshs breeding kink go brrrr😳

he would fill you up so good too, he’d hold you down and make sure you can feel every inch, sinking into you slow and deep to feel just how good your soft walls hug him tight. you tremble underneath him and dig your nails into his shoulders as he bottoms out, full, massive balls resting against you. 

“that’s my girl, look at that, you took it all,” he breathes, just barely starting to thrust in and out, wanting to savour the way your cunt throbs around him when he’s fully buried inside you. “squeezing me so tight, baby,” atsumu groans, “look at me.”

your eyes flutter open to dark, honeyed eyes, lidded and searching for any signs of hesitation in your expression. “pretty.” 

atsumu starts to pull out slowly, hissing through his teeth and shuddering when he stops halfway through his movement, fingers pressing into the backs of your thighs. “relax, you’re—ahh—can barely move, shit.” 

“s-sorry, tsumu.” your apology comes out slurred as you shoot him a dazed smile. “guess you’re gonna have to stretch me out, then...”

excitement flashes through atsumu’s eyes at the challenge and he pushes your thighs back further, pulling out only to thrust back in sharply. “yeah?” you both moan on the way back in, atsumu repeating the movement over and over until you’re begging, pleading for him to just fuck you already.

“pretty girl wants to get fucked, huh? i’ll do ya one better, baby.” atsumu finds his rhythm and thrusts into you, his slightly curved cock slamming right into your g-spot with every push of his hips. “gonna breed this hungry cunt,” he pants, speeding up, “fill your little womb up with cum and make you a mommy for me, yeah? how’s that sound?”   

The Sun Eats the Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping, pregnancy kink(?))

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

WC: 9.4k

𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓

You wanted to quit the second you read the name. 

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place. 

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now. 

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client. 

"Is everything alright?" 

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke. 

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired." 

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited. 

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics. 

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention. 

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice. 

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps. 

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes. 

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face. 

Nothing. 

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next. 

"I look forward to working with all of you."                                     

𖤓

If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial. 

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order. 

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way. 

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too. 

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you. 

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?" 

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks." 

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours. 

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms. 

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching. 

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru. 

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch. 

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair. 

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines. 

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted. 

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class. 

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it. 

"What?" Because you must have misheard him. 

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official." 

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours. 

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop. 

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine. 

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore. 

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

𖤓

It was something minuscule. 

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always. 

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey. 

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her. 

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out." 

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life." 

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger. 

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru. 

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help. 

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that. 

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break. 

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing. 

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator. 

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!" 

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle. 

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you. 

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. 

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him. 

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that. 

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him. 

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back. 

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down. 

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it. 

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares. 

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything. 

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend. 

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg. 

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open. 

It's worse than anything you could think of. 

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you? 

This wasn't bullying. 

This was abuse. 

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired. 

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky. 

"Why?" 

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group. 

"Get lost." 

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone. 

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored. 

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-" 

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away. 

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?" 

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. 

"Anything, right?" 

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek. 

"Get on your knees." 

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little. 

"I-I-Gojo you-" 

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?" 

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru. 

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk. 

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him. 

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh. 

"Gojo I-" 

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems." 

You look down at the grass. Green, soft. 

"Satoru." 

His eyes flash in satisfaction. 

"Open up, pretty girl." 

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. 

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you. 

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought. 

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?" 

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame. 

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you. 

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth. 

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me." 

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world. 

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?" 

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it. 

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help. 

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath. 

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you." 

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum. 

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something." 

 You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him. 

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair. 

"My laptop...it's broken." 

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it. 

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you. 

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his. 

The sunset is pretty today. 

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied. 

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from. 

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?" 

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf. 

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait." 

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts. 

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her. 

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright. 

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting." 

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs. 

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way. 

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to. 

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go. 

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you. 

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable. 

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework. 

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips. 

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever. 

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom. 

"Thank-" 

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me." 

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself. 

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too. 

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him. 

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons. 

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?" 

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment. 

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken. 

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours. 

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now. 

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action. 

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone. 

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can. 

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch. 

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you." 

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock- 

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing. 

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you. 

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?" 

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again. 

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust. 

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper. 

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl." 

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar. 

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious. 

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him." 

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock. 

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch. 

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need. 

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt. 

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration. 

"I love you." 

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh. 

Fuck three weeks. 

You needed to get out, now. 

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there. 

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours. 

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out. 

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there. 

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room. 

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction. 

"You're off the clock, Fimo," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?" 

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke. 

The door shuts with a click. 

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward. 

You take one back. He puts his hands up. 

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?" 

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood. 

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody. 

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too. 

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes. 

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules." 

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked. 

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent. 

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless. 

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text." 

 His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake. 

You go to move. 

Satoru's faster. 

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment. 

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze. 

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness. 

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-" 

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt. 

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client. 

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him. 

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless. 

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears. 

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar." 

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words. 

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

 Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses. 

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now." 

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again. 

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic. 

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily. 

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?" 

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too. 

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall. 

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action. 

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar. 

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate. 

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate. 

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste. 

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits. 

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed. 

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out. 

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear. 

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?" 

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that. 

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you." 

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his. 

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure. 

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom. 

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught. 

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl." 

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-" 

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-" 

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled. 

"I'll make sure it takes this time too." 

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea. 

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb. 

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine. 

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness. 

"I love you." 

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran. 

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me." 

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given. 

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation. 

WIND BREAKER | getting caught

Synopsis ✰ how the boys react to the two of you getting walked in on during the heat of the moment

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Akihiko Nirei, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ spicy; explicit content, semi-public, slight aggressive behavior, humping, biting, marks, love bites, groping, 18+ / nsfw!

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

you couldn’t help it, it’s hard to hold back with Sakura when you love how much of a blushing mess you can make him. seeing him unfold underneath you triggers something dark inside of you. “you’re so cute when you make that face Sakura.” you cooed in between the kisses you were placing on your boyfriends lips.

“shut up- no i’m not.” your boyfriend barked back at you with a scowl. however, the deep red blush forming on his cheeks says he likes what you have to say. he could never pinpoint why he lets you get away with so much. he doesn’t understand the power you hold over him, why he says yes to your every request, why he would do anything for you, or why he can’t help but blush and tremble over the sweet nothings you whispered to him during these moments.

“don’t say that, i think you’re more than very cute.” you teased the poor boy. the two of you were on your way to get some food before you had dragged him into a dark alley to kiss him, and for some reason he let you. he let you have him against the wall, your soft fingers tugging at his split hair making him weak. he let out a groan as you pulled his hair in order to drag him down to your lips.

“touch me? please?” you pleaded with big round innocent eyes as if you weren’t the one who got the two of you in this position anyways. he nodded desperately giving you permission to guide his hands to your body. you placed his hands on your hips and then down to your ass before tip toeing up to him to plant more kisses on his face. this time around he felt the tip of his ears growing an antagonizing amount of heat on them.

“y/n lets go to my place? yeah?” Sakura asked shyly. he had gotten so easily worked up from kissing he wanted to skip the dinner all together and go straight to his place. you had gotten yourself so worked up to the point where you also wanted to skip dinner. you frantically nodded at his request and he let out a sigh of relief. you were such in a rush you grabbed his hand and started to lead the way out before he pulled you back into him.

“w-wait. i need some time.” he shamefully admitted, his face probably being the reddest you made it all day. you were slightly confused at first until your eyes made its way down and you saw his raging boner making it’s appearance.

“want me to make it go away?” you offered reaching down to his belt. you had felt guilty at this point for making him get so hard in public and it won’t be awhile until he gets some relief. Sakura bit his lip thinking about whether or not he should take up your offer. he ended up shaking his head no, he didn’t want to risk anyone seeing you. instead you opted out to just standing in front of him in case anyone walks by so they won’t have to see his package trying to break free from his jeans. you thought that would be the end of it until you felt Sakura’s hands grab your hips. “can i?” he asked gently before you responded with a nod, soon after he was pushing your ass against his crotch as he let out a small groan. you felt your face heat up as he started to shamelessly rut himself against you. he had his face buried against the nape of your neck.

“OH HEY GUYS!” a voice yelled. it caused the two of you to sharply look up at the direction of the voice. you squinted before recognizing the person running up to you two was Nirei. “what are you guys doing here?” he asked innocently confused. Sakura was trying to regain his composure meanwhile you still felt his hard on pressing against your ass.

“it was too sunny, we got hot while walking so we decided to get some shade.” you responded with smooth lie and smile which Nirei completely believed. “ah makes sense, where are you guys going?? i’ll join you!” he smiled. you were unsure of how to respond just smiling at your very innocent and naive friend. he would third wheel on your dates every once in a while which you didn’t mind.

“don’t worry about it, go away.” Sakura interrupted causing Nirei to glare at him. you elbowed your boyfriend before scolding him, “don’t be rude!” the conversation ended with all three of you agreeing to go get dinner. the entire walk there Sakura stayed closely behind you while you held his hand and led the way.

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

“Ume… what if someone comes?” you shyly asked your boyfriend as he was leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to the corner of the mouth. you pulled away slightly in order to meet his gaze.

he couldn’t help but smile at your cute shyness, “no one will come, it’s fine.” before you could protest more, he pushed you down onto the ground chuckling at the tiny squeak you let out. you caved in as he captured your lips with his own. you felt his long fingers grazing your sides and hips as he deepened the kiss.

one of your favorite things to do with your loving boyfriend was to help him with his gardening. the term “help” can be used loosely as the two of you always got carried away during the gardening seasons. it’s gotten to the point where almost everyone knows better than to interrupt the two of you while “gardening”. Ume has made it clear over time, again and again, that he does not like getting interrupted while he’s spending time with his cute girlfriend.

the two of you had gotten carried away in your kissing as Ume had already begun abusing your lips. he loved to bite, lick, suck, and harshly nip your plump lips since he adored seeing how red/purple they got after he was done. you felt yourself instinctively arching your back upwards to him to gain some type of friction between you two. Ume was placed perfectly in between your legs as he borderline starts rutting himself against you. before you knew it, you were letting out small moans and whimpers begging for more.

“can i? please.” Ume had been fiddling with the hem of your shirt while marking your neck and collarbone with harsh bites and bruises. he waited until you frantically nodded before slipping his cold hands underneath the fabric of your top. he instantly wrapped his large hands around your breasts cupping each one. they fit perfectly in his hands, he’s fully convinced your body is made for him. no one could tell him otherwise and fortunately he didn’t want to hear it either.

Ume had almost gotten so caught up in the moment he could’ve missed the sound of the rooftop door opening. he instantly sat up catching you off guard. you let out a small whine from losing his touch. before you can even mutter a word out, Ume had reached out for a sweater he had and thrown it over your body.

“UME!” a group of voices screamed while another familiar yelled out “wait! don’t-“

you froze in place, grateful for your boyfriends huge build as he covered most of your presence behind him. you quickly recovered once you realized the situation and you instantly threw on the sweater Ume had thrown at you before. you finally peeked at the commotion and saw Hiragi with a group of young boys at the door. you hoped no one saw the marks on your body, based on the way they were looking at you, they did.

“you idiots! I told you not to come in!” Hiragi scolded the group of boys. Ume had been completely silent but his energy was gut wrenching as you could pinpoint the pure annoyance he felt.

“jeez, what are you?! some kind of animal?!” one of the boys yelled referring to the marks Ume left on you. your face felt an entire new level of warmth. you looked to Ume who only smiled in response. a smile that hid many emotions, one that definitely hid the current anger he felt. truth be told, he wasn’t all that mad at being caught, he was more angry because they were still there and didn’t leave.

“is this an emergency?” Ume finally asked. there were only crickets in response. once no one responded Ume felt himself get more internally angry because he had to stop his moment with you for no reason. Ume’s smile finally dropped as he glared at the group of boys. the glare alone sent all of them running down the door, slamming it closed behind them. Ume let out a groan after they left and plopped to the ground as you could only giggle in response to his frustration.

Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

“y/n- wait- no- we shouldn’t do this.” Nirei pleaded with you. his eyes anxiously moving between you and the door. his hands held a stern hold on your hips as he prevented you from moving. the two of you were in an empty classroom together and had been previously making out. you were currently straddling him as he was sitting on a chair near a desk. the two of you had been so busy lately you haven’t had a chance to be alone… until now.

“it’ll be fine, it’s not like we’ll be the first couple to do something like this. besides there’s still 40 minutes until class, no one comes this early” you argued as you wrapped your hands around his neck slightly playing with the back of his hair.

Nirei bit his bottom lip not removing his eyes off the door, obviously contemplating his decision of whether or not to continue. it’s true, unfortunately you two haven’t had much alone time. to give this up would be insane of him to do considering what a missed opportunity it would be.

“please ni’, for me.” you pleaded interrupting his thoughts. you began to grind your hips against his crotch causing him to let out a small groan. he could never say no, not to you. especially not when you looked so pretty with your flushed cheeks looking up at him with those eyes.

he was gripping your hips so tightly it hurt. it hurt in a way that made you feel so good. with how hard he holding you, he could leave bruises. he wasn’t intentionally hurting you, he would never. in fact, he wasn’t even aware of how strong his grip was. his mind was hazed with thoughts of you flooding them, he’s trying to regain his control. the control he didn’t even have over himself, it was something only you held. he was painfully hard as his cock was starting to ache. eventually Nirei started to guide your hips onto him while trying to fight back any groan from leaving.

you crashed your lips against his in order to silence your own whimpers. you were wearing a short skirt and the fabric of his jean pants felt so good pressed against you. you pressed yourself down harder in order to gain any more friction. you needed him like you never needed him before, it had been too long. as embarrassing as it was for Nirei to admit it, he felt himself getting close, you were making him feel so so good. groans were spewing from his pretty lips before he knew it, he buried his face on the crook of your neck. he couldn’t hold it together as he felt himself losing composure. the both of you could feel yourself getting wet against him.

“fuck~ you’re so wet.” he groaned as his hands lowered themselves onto your ass pushing you closer to him making you whimper once more.

you quickly became a moaning mess, the friction feeling too good. Nirei removed himself from your neck in order to look up at your face. you were so beautiful whenever you were worked up like this. your face was completely red and flushed from the tension. with the way your legs were practically trembling and how tears were threatening to fall from your eyes he knew you were close. “so pretty” he murmured softly as he placed a sweet kiss on your lips. the two of you nearly on ends ready to collapse together. until you heard the door slide open and both of you froze in place.

“hey Nirei, someone told me they saw you come in here.” a voice started but trailed off as they noticed the position you two were in.

to Nirei’s pleasant surprise he found himself regaining control quickly. he managed to cool his face off fast and gain composure before looking over at the door. you, however, couldn’t do the same. you quickly turned your face to the opposite side of the room avoiding any contact with the person at the door. Nirei was feeling both relieved and embarrassed to see Suo at the door. he didn’t believe Suo actually knew what the two of you were doing. in hindsight, anyone would assume the two of you were having a casual make out session. Suo, in fact didn’t think anything more was happening either. he was blindsided to the absolute desperation that was previously unfolding.

“my apologies, I didn’t realize you were here with your girlfriend.” Suo spoke honestly. he excused himself and left while saying “I’ll see you in class Nirei.” he was already planning to 100% tease Nirei in class.

Nirei let a sigh of relief slip as soon as Suo left and closed the door. the two of you sat in silence for a moment before Nirei peeked to see your expression. you were incredibly red with embarrassment which caused him to smile. he couldn’t help it, you were always the bold one in the relationship so seeing you behave otherwise was adorable to him. you finally turned to face him with a glare as if it was his fault the two of you had gotten caught.

“don’t look at me like that, you know this was your idea anyways.” Nirei smiled nervously, in response to your glare. your glare didn’t last long since you knew he was right.

“how embarrassing!” you exclaimed as you covered your face with your hands and buried yourself into his chest. Nirei could only laugh in response before ruffling your hair. he embraced you as he tried to comfort you.

“could’ve been worse.”

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

“Toga we should stop, someone can come in.” you argued trying to pry your tall boyfriend off of you who was currently suffocating you in his french kisses. you heard him let out an annoyed groan before pulling away.

“who cares, you act like i can’t just make them disappear.” he says with a slight threatening undertone causing you to pout. you’ve told the man before that he can’t just keep threatening to beat anyone up when he doesn’t get his way. of course he never listens, he’s so used to getting what he wants. not that you could blame him, you’re the one who constantly spoils him.

“that’s not the point!” you argued back. despite arguing back you still tilted your head up so your boyfriend can get more access to you as he started kissing the skin on your neck, softly inhaling your sweet scent. Jo Togame will most definitely be the absolute death of you. he was the worst, so demanding, needy, and god help yourself, you were willing to give him anything he wants in life.

“so pretty” he murmured before clashing your lips together, swiftly slipping his tongue into your mouth making you gasp. he took it as an opportunity to deepen the kiss more before grabbing your hips and pulling you up. you instinctively wrapped your legs around him in return to the action. you were unsure of how it happened but the two of you had accidentally lost balance and landed on the ground. Togame broke your fall by flipping you two over so he was the one who landed on his back meanwhile you stayed on top.

“ouch.” he groaned while you on the other hand were still trying to catch your breath. “i prefer this position anyways.” he spoke before cupping your face and pulling you down to him. he returned to eagerly exploring every inch of the inside of your mouth, swirling his tongue around yours. you couldn’t stop the small mewls from coming out due to Togame’s rough kissing. he always kissed you as it’d be the last time he gets the chance.

“wow, this is a new style of fighting for you Togame.” a voice pitched up in amusement.

you wanted to jump at the sound of the voice but couldn’t. Togame had a strong hand wrapped around the back of your neck keeping you in place. “mmph!” you whined out before grabbing a hold of his shirt and pulling yourself up completely. he was insane, actually insane. how could he continue making out with you knowing someone else was in the room with you two. you glared at him with narrowed eyes while panting trying to regain control of your breath. he had an amused smirk placed on his face at your reaction.

“what do you want Choji? i’m busy, go away.” Togame causally addressed his small friend who was towering over the two of you watching the situation unfold. you went to get up completely but Toga moved his strong hold to your hips before you could. you pouted at your boyfriend in disapproval which he only smiled at.

“i’m so boreddddd, come hang out with me.” Choji complained as he dramatically threw himself over a chair.

“cant, im with my girlfriend.”

“who cares, bring her too. just don’t make out while we’re together.”

“no. go away.”

“PLEASE.”

“no. bye”

“dude.”

the boys continued to bicker while you facepalmed in defeat. how did you always get stuck in these situations? and why the hell was your boyfriend always so shameless? shouldn’t he care more? his solution can’t always be a threat, could it?

Choji Tomiyama ᡣ𐭩

you and Choji came from two different worlds. you went to a private all girls school and had met Choji on your way home. the two of you hit it off from there. Choji was almost the complete opposite of you, happy, loud, cheerful, so full of energy. you were a straight A student along with being student body president. you had a lot on your plate so being around someone who radiated such care free energy made you happy. the two of you were currently hanging out at the ori, one of Choji’s favorite places.

“come here” Choji said snapping you out of your trance. he was standing in the middle of the stage with the biggest grin on his face. you raised an eyebrow, unsure of why he wanted you up there. nonetheless, you made your way up, it felt weird being up there. it made you feel small, you couldn’t imagine how it would feel being up here with a full audience, all eyes on you. Choji smiled as he grabbed your wrists pulling you closer causing you to blush.

“I want to teach you how to take someone down.” Choji believed everyone should fight, it was more fun that way. Choji was explaining what to do but you were so spaced out, only paying attention to his lips and the way his eyes shined bright with pure excitement. you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to spend this time doing something else more ‘fun’. you felt like a pervert thinking about him in a manner that wasn’t all that innocent or friendly.

before you can even react to what was happening you were sharply knocked off your feet. you let out a yelp and closed your eyes bracing yourself for the impact. the impact that never came as you felt a pair of arms catch you and gently place you down on the floor. your eyes fluttered open to meet Choji’s soft brown eyes. it took you a second before realizing he was on top of you, you felt your cheeks heat up by having him be so close.

“y/n, you weren’t listening were you?” he asked softly looking down at you as he grabbed your wrists once more holding them above your head.

“I-I was distracted. plus i’m not wearing fighting clothes!” you defensively said in return. his eyes moved from your face and trailed down your body until he saw the placement of his knee in between your thighs. your school uniform skirt was hiked up past your mid-thigh, exposing more skin than usual.

“I suppose that’s true.” Choji murmured before rubbing his knee up against your clothed cunt. you let out a small whimper in return before softly moaning his name. “hm? that feel good?” he asked locking his lips onto your neck, gently sucking on your smooth skin. Choji couldn’t help himself before moving one of his hands down to rub your cute little clothed cunt. he let out a small groan once he got a peek of your baby pink lacey underwear.

“oh god~ Choji, so so good” you moaned out trying to grind your hips against his fingers. you and Choji didn’t get a lot of chances to be this close but whenever you did it felt like heaven. something you’ve come to learn is that Choji is pleasantly talented with his hands in a way that didn’t involve fighting or any type of violence.

“let me taste you?” Choji asked looking up at you while guiding his head down. “yes please” you begged, before he could spread your legs the auditorium door opened with a bang. you immediately slammed your legs closed and sat up in response. Choji let out an irritated growl to losing you in your vulnerable position.

“get the fuck out.” Choji spat sharply turning to whoever opened the door. Choji’s demeanor changed into something unrecognizable. it was something you didn’t have any familiarity with. you watched as his eyes darken, he stood up and jumped off the stage. in all honesty, you felt guilty since an embarrassing amount of arousal reached your core from seeing him behave so deadly and intimidatingly. the poor guy let out a spew of apologies before running out. you heard Choji let out a deep sigh as he closed his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. his anger clearly wasn’t going away, all you were thinking about was how you could help him relieve himself.

“Choji.” your voice broke him out of his trance as he opened his eyes and snapped his head towards you. he made his way up to you and once he was close enough you gripped his shirt and pulled him closer. “c-can we keep going? please.” you begged looking up at him only for his dark eyes to already be staring down at you. he smirked before grabbing the back of your neck and crashing your lips together roughly.

a/n <3 : phewww this was a long one, I got carried away :’D I really wanted to include Suo but I was struggling to imagine him getting caught. I feel like he’d be so sneaky and careful it’d be impossible to catch him lacking. maybe part two with him ???? idkk. also nirei’s section might be a bit ooc since i got carried away while writing his part </3 this was my first time writing explicit content in a while, sorry if it’s a bit rough, hope yall still enjoy <33

┌─ “ ! „ CADAVER

tw. wound fucking, blood, gore, don’t read this if you’re squeamish!!, somnophilia, oral, noncon, megumi is delusional in this, yandere, belly bulge but gross! , cannibalistic thoughts wordcount. 6.4k

a/n. this one,,, was me pushing myself to just go buck wild, and channel my inner junji, and i think i got somewhere with it... a select few of you will understand me when i say that ,, this is like my love letter to megumi fr ♡ like i said though, this one might be the one that has people a little yucked out but! it's basically my halloween fic, for the spooky month

fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

When the rattling of the stretcher finally quiets in the halls and the rising rate of adrenaline starts to flatten out, Megumi’s lost on what to do. Any of the other sorcerers can’t decide what the next step is either, it seems. Yuji with his back pressed against the glass and staring off into the empty part of the hall they just came from, and principal Yaga a stern quietness and arms crossed. Ieiri-san will do her best work today of any days if there’s anything to be done about it, but Megumi can tell. That uncertainty hangs over all of them as the faint breathing of a collapsed body grows more pitched and panicked.

Megumi always sort of hated you. He didn’t like you from the second he first met you, and it just grew and grew and grew from there. He hates your stupid demeanor with your higher-than-thou morals and your sky-high milestones and that grin that could make even the coldest heart split in two. It doesn’t escape him that this is the same reason he always did enjoy Maki, but you were — more recognizable to him, and yet somehow much further away.

He always hated the way he’d catch himself watching the soft motion of your lashes, or how your mouth would form words, the heat that would carry color to your face. He always hated the quiet moments you’d sit by his side, rattling his heart out of his chest and laughing at him for his hot cheeks; and he always hated how you’d be the thought on his mind right after he’d made sure his own limbs hadn’t yet been blown to bits. But standing with his hands covered in a coating of blood that isn’t his, dripping onto the panes of the old flooring, he wonders what that hatred ever really got him. It never helped him understand you better, that for someone so alike himself, you were so much better at everything.

His chest is rising and falling too fast.

Gojo’s too late, always is when it comes down to the wire, Megumi thinks as the lankier man rushes through and stops a few feet away from them. Yaga’s brow pinches, before he lifts his head the slightest bit to acknowledge the white blond. “What’s the status,” Gojo has to ask, and before he has another conscious thought, Megumi’s furiously rubbing his hands over his sweater in an attempt to get the blood off while his teeth clack with how hard he’s clenching them. There’s a thickness between his ears that makes everything sound far off. The blood stains his fingers the more he rubs, and his face gets hotter and hotter as it lasts.

But he thinks he hears the principal explain.

How you had been pinned down and knocked clean out, head bashed against the concrete pillars. How Megumi had been too busy trying and failing to keep the uglier curse from blasting you both to shit, to notice. How the other special grade had picked you up by the neck and unceremoniously shoved something into your mouth and pushed until it went down your throat - until you started convulsing, spitting out blood and bile before he could reach you. Megumi hadn’t taken the time to look then, but he knows now what it was, slimy, decaying contents of a little vial that had gone missing a few months ago.

“The girl must’ve been a real good match.” Yaga pushes his fingers to his brow, as if forcibly trying to push the frown down. “Ieiri’s doing what she can.” It doesn’t make any of them feel better when Gojo clicks his tongue and aims his eyes at the door, before casting a quick glance at Megumi under thick, blond lashes. He wants to puke. He’d shoved his fingers down your throat for what felt like hours, trying desperately to get you to throw up the curse. Had carried you all the way back while you were sobbing and wailing in pain. Nothing.

If even the worst case repeats itself, they’ll have another incarnation on their hands, and the noose will be tightened around your throat. Yuji must have already realized this, because he’s yet to say anything since you’d been tied onto the stretcher with blood pouring out of your nose and ears and coughing up grime. Megumi’s not even sure if Ieiri would hesitate to put you down without a second warning before it gets to the same turning point. And he is pissed. At the situation, his friends, himself, you. He’s so angry his hands shake, and so angry tears start stinging behind his eyes, feeling like any motion might cause him to throw up. He hates you.

+

Your chest’s rising with big motions up and down, up and down, as you drum your feet on his bedsheets like an excited rabbit. Megumi grunts, snatches the book from your hands and tosses it back down with the others that were not-so-neatly stacked on his desk. Your shape on his bed makes a dent in his mind that he’ll have to keep replaying over and over when he closes his eyes, and it has a frown pulling his eyebrows down automatically. “So grumpy,” you yawn, and also roll over onto your stomach to tuck your legs to your core, lifting one hand to rest your face into it.

“This isn’t your room.”

“Might as well be,” you giggle back, and he watches for a moment as your hair falls along your shoulders in a gentle brush, making you look even more enchanting. You’re soft and parts of you are shiny like silk, seemingly oozing your rosy, peachy aura all over his stuff. You catch his eyes for just a few breaths, still rising your chest too distractingly, before you push yourself up and slide off the bed to walk up to him. He pivots to thumb through the notes on his desk again, to be farther away from your face probably, and his shoulders rise into an uncomfortable pinch when you approach, feet patting on his floor. “Megumi.” You say his name with a clear pout.

Then heat covers his skin at the base of his throat and he freezes, letting the way you drag your soft lips over his pulse fill him up entirely. His hands shake too hard to keep a grip on the paper, so he spins you around and shoves you back against the desk as you hiss at the sudden painful grip, his fist wrapped into the collar of your shirt. “I already told you to stop doing that.” He hisses, and your eyes are wide and glittering like diamonds, beautiful color peering up at him.

“But you like it when I do that,” you whisper back ever so softly, and his head feels like it’s splitting at the seams, cracking his skull under a non-escapable pressure. He can’t think, can’t even eat normally without the ghost of you hanging over him and shaking him up. It’s unbearable even when you’re not around. His fist unclenches from the flimsy fabric to instead grip your chin with his thumb, and his heart bangs against his ribcage harder than can be normal. Harder than is healthy. A little thought in the back of his skull begs to push. Just once, deny you from digging your claws deeper into him— but he’s already melted to your shape before he can blink.

His face drops like you’re magnetic, thighs pushing you further into the desk and also into him; and it’s truly embarrassing that his hands are still shaking like they do. You lean in when he does, and let your lips meet his hungry, treacherous mouth, other hand sliding to your waist to pull you closer. Your tongue brushes his and he implodes inside, and he swears it hurts to be this close to you.

Not that you care. Your arms wind around his neck to pull him even closer, and his blood feels like it’s boiling under his skin.

+

He finds himself wandering back to the quieter wing of the school when the sun’s already dipped far past the horizon, and the cold starts picking up. He’s dragging his feet, so he won’t fucking rush back to the room he finds himself thinking about so fast he stumbles. He’s glaring at the patterns in the floorboards so he doesn’t cry. You’re stable- quiet puffs of air escaping your nose every few seconds, but you’re still under surveillance. As far as the clans are concerned, they’ll put something sharp between your eyes sooner rather than later, before whatever’s slumbering inside you wakes up. But Gojo’s fighting for you. It makes him grimace to think about.

Knocking his knuckles onto the doorframe, he enters the dimly lit room. Nanami doesn’t stand when he spots him, but does uncross his legs as he takes a deep breath. Neither of them speak for a while, and the dark haired man takes that time to run his eyes over you. You’re not as dirty as you were when you first got back, shivering and shaking. You’re no longer dripping with blood, though he’s sure if he were to look close enough, he’d still be able to see flecks of it between your cracked lips. As he walks up, he finds himself thinking that you look strangely peaceful, and that doesn’t seem entirely right.

Save for the bloody mark that seems branded into your forehead, you look like you’re quietly sleeping on the metal slab that supports your body. After all the pain and agony you’ve caused in him, sleepless nights and long days of wondering, hoping you’d be okay. Why is it that he’s the one affected by you? Why is it that he’s the one who’s going to have to say goodbye again? He stares at your unmoving form as if that’ll give him an answer, but it doesn’t. And the pit in his stomach swells again. He’s just so angry all the time. Megumi breathes out. “It’s my turn to take watch for a while.”

“You’re early,” Nanami’s deep baritone chastises, but he gets up from the seat anyway. He smooths out the wrinkles in his suit, before slowly placing a hand on the other’s shoulder. The weight is heavy, and somehow doesn’t soothe him at all. But there’s an attempt, he guesses. He’s still not entirely sure why everyone is looking at him like he’s the one who needs it most, broken and disheveled and mourning. He’s been able to finish his tasks like everyone else has, and he can banish the thought of you when he’s supposed to focus on work— at least, mostly. He doesn’t need the fucking pity. “Want some coffee? Or green tea?” Nanami asks, letting his hand slide off when Megumi shrugs.

“No. I’m okay.”

The older man seems to hesitate, simply nodding when he walks past. Before closing the door behind him, he once again clears his voice, and Megumi turns over his shoulder. The blond has this look in his eyes, of pity, as he talks. “Megumi, there’s a chance she pulls through.” Why again - that fucking pity? “Don’t give up.” Though it makes him tingle with an unbearable sort of itch deep under the skin, he grits his teeth, and his brain’s hot and irritated when he responds.

“I wasn’t going to.” Nanami doesn’t seem to believe him, but still softly slides the door closed behind him, and when the footsteps grow softer and softer, Megumi allows for a second to collect himself. He braces his hands onto the metal as he leans in, close enough to feel just the slightest bit of your warmth on his fingers, and see the way you’re still breathing, though shallow, too faint for his liking. His brows pinch when he finds himself with his forehead pressed to your stomach, hunched over like he’s praying at your shrine or something. But he can’t help it.

As much time as he spent beside you with a frown on his face, it never feels enough. He can’t stay away, like it’s an involuntary thing— you leave him no choice in the matter. Even here in the darkness, whining softly into your wheezed breaths, it isn’t enough to be beside you. He can’t do anything from here at your bedside; and that uselessness makes him feel even more uneasy. He needs to be closer to you. Wants to be so close you two get stuck together and melt together like an inseparable entity, would want to crawl inside you if he could.

His nose presses into the clean shirt that smells like your laundry, as he clenches his fists so hard along the table edge they start to ache. His eyes are pressed closed tight when he allows him just a second to nose below your sternum, and that uncomfortable stinging sensation comes back to his eyes. “Fucking idiot,” his lips brush against your covered skin, taking in the lack of heat, of your smell and the way you sounded with his face buried there, “I didn’t mean it.”

+

“Aw, ow, ow, Megumi~” You pout with a pitched whine as his hand stays screwed around your knee for a little longer, keeping you trapped under his heavier, taller body so that you start wiggling. Your head falls back against his arm, and you lean to press a few kisses to his wrist that’s holding your own to the floor. “Be more gentle.” You pout when you pull back and flash him that fucking look that sends icy shivers down his spine, and exactly nothing else. “You can be gentle, can’t you?” Every other part of him flushes with heat under your doe-eyed, pitiful look, definitely when you start wiggling out of his grasp like you’re suddenly over the game.

You started it. He wouldn’t put himself in your range on purpose. When you’re about halfway out from under his crouched form, you sit up to be face to face; and you brush your hand past his ear, down his jaw and neck and trail his collarbones, all places he’s convinced are now stained a bright, obnoxious pink from his flush. You let your fingers linger when you tilt your head aside a bit so you can slot your lips over his into a sweet, little kiss, and you pull your lips into another pout. “Swear you’re doing it to hurt me sometimes. I’m never trying to hurt you, you know.” A few strands of hair fall over your eye when you sit below him, and he has to fight every single muscle in his body not to push it back for you.

He wants to see your eyes. He wants you to see him like this, pinned under you like the attraction you render him as— his body collapses on top of you as you start giggling all fucking cutely, and his heart races more than it ever has. Your heartbeat drums into his face when he buries it into your softness, chest against his cheek, too long for his own sanity before he drags himself off you. And it is a drag. His entire body starts feeling sluggish when you’re this close to him, close enough to drown himself in your scent. He won’t ever say it, but that scent gets him hard and awfully mellow all at once, his cock coming to life in his pants before he’s moving.

You look happy. Your eyes are those bright, gentle colors that rain down on him, and your lips are quirked into a soft smile, you must know what you’re doing to him. Setting him up for failure again. He huffs and pushes himself onto his back instead, knocking his head to the floor while you’re moving from the rug - splaying your knees either side of him before you nuzzle right back on top of his chest and make it even harder to get a breath, let alone catch it. He’s sure he’s panting a little when you leave your warmth draped all over him, and you don’t do anything other than be there.

His arms are still on the floor, his body rigid under you, but you’re softly giggling into his peck before he frowns down at you again when you catch his eyes. “What?”

“Your heart is beating super fast,” you admit, not proud, not gloating - just stating the fact, and heat overtakes his neck now too. Instead of letting you wind him up any further, he bucks you off and switches positions again, now with your two wrists caught in his hands as you squeak with the ache that probably lodges in your back.

“Can you get off of me?” He sits back on his feet, not letting go of your hands yet, before your eyes flutter and you grab him back. Well, brush your fingers over the skin you can reach, pawing at him just enough to tickle. “What’s with you today?” he bites back, and also snatches his hands back to escape the onslaught of feelings that wash over him. You don’t sit up this time, and from the tilt of your head, you’re considering your answer for a while before you speak out.

“Do you like me, Megumi?” Fuck. His room seems to collapse in on itself. Or, maybe it’s his body— because he gets a little more short of breath, and his thoughts short circuit as his mouth stupidly drops open. He’s choked up for long enough that he has to clear his voice to try an answer, and even then, he gets stuck. You’re studying him so closely it must show. The blaring warmth that fills him up and makes his ears bright red. After another second, your eyes seem to dim slightly, as you push your cheek to your shoulder, opening yourself up to even more attacks. “Love y’, ‘gumi.”

+

He straightens up with enough tightness in his chest to choke him, makes his eyes sting and his head blare cold, painful warnings— he grabs some of the glasses from the small table beside him, launches it straight into the wall until it shatters into a million pieces upon impact. The loud clang doesn’t do anything to settle his anger, where he fists his hands into his hair and pulls, in hopes the worry will somehow vanish.

“Why do you always have to be such a hero?” he hisses, even though you can’t answer now, “wouldn’t it have been enough to just stay here with me?!” He tilts your face to his and drops his lips to yours, and that familiar softness is enough to have him clenching his eyes shut again against the tears. He kisses you until your mouth opens a bit, then slides his tongue up against yours and grips your shoulders, pulling your limp body towards him more. “I’ll be better to you.” He pleads. You don’t move, and the breaths going over his cheeks are so shallow.

But he can’t stop himself from tangling your tongue with his, licking into your mouth and chasing the warmth until he runs out of breath. You’re so fucking pretty still. He kisses you again, bumping teeth, and grips your hip hard as he lays over you a little more, chest to chest and feeling it brush against him with each soft pant he lets out, each gravelly moan. It doesn’t hurt so much to brush his tongue against yours, to swallow your taste on his tongue until his lips numb — but while it doesn’t ache, it’s also not enough. Before he’s able to think about the morality of his actions, his thumbs are hooking under your shirt and pushing it up, over your soft belly and ribcage all the way up until it’s over your tits, where his lips travel to as soon as the skin’s exposed. You’re so soft still, too.

He’s not sure what he’s doing other than leaving messy, open mouth kisses onto you, kneading your skin between his hands as all the warmth in his body pools into his groin. Your tits are sucked into his mouth, one then the other, as he rubs his face into the doughy skin, then he’s pulling and pinching at your tits like he knows makes you whimper. The sound’s burned into his working memory, and it drives him on to run his face down your soft body to the part where your thighs meet. The skin just above your skirt of the softest, warmest, and he full on moans when his cock twitches hard in his pants and he reaches down to grab himself.

Normally you’d be blinking up at him now, sending him that little look with grabby hands, ready to wrap your puffy lips around him— it’s different when it’s his hand screwed around himself and not even moving yet. he can’t, or he’ll cum in his pants, and he’s not going to waste his cum like that when your warm pussy’s right before him. He’s shaky when he pushes the fabric up, flipping it over your tummy; and groans again when he licks down your panties and mouths at the seat of it. It tastes so much like you his eyes roll back, and his knees give a little, while more precum leaks out of him and into his pants.

He frees his hands momentarily to slide you to the edge of the metallic table, two hands gripping your butt and squeezing, then hooking his finger in your panties to just pull them aside. He doesn’t care about the chaffing he’ll have. Not even a second thought when your little pussy is in front of him, and he pushes his mouth to you for some open mouthed kisses, down to your pussy and back up. Wrapping his mouth around your clit, he sucks hard, and rubs the bud a few times with his tongue. He swears your breathing goes more pitched and heavier when he does, when his fingers trail down your puffier lips to rub the bit of wetness around.

His cock’s painfully hard in his pants, and after a few more times licking you up and down so that your slick covers the entire bottom half of his face, he pushes the zipper down and then takes himself out to watch how red and sore the head of his cock already is, oozing pre and coating both his boxers and his shaft. He spits into his hand to give himself a few tight-wrung pumps, tighter than he likes normally- if he doesn’t, he’ll spill all over your cute, little pussy. He pushes his fingertips inside your now wetter cunt, watching it wink and beg for something to fill, and groans when one finger slides in with ease.

Your soft walls are still soft and hot around him, giving mean licks over your clit again and again in a way that would normally overstimulate you too easily. You don’t whimper or whine now, take his finger nice and sweet inside your squelching, gooey walls, only making a little noise when he slides in a second and he can feel the slight bit of stretching you need. He’s dripping onto the table now, balls tight and heavy - imagines how you moan and look when you’re sucking on them and you smack your lips with each open mouthed kiss or lick. You between his legs is always enough to have his knees giving, and it’s no different now, he has to hold himself up against you before he thinks better of it.

You’re slid back on the table too easily, making room for him when he pushes one of your legs aside— and let out a slight gasp when he hoists himself over your body. He just wants you. So bad. It’s not so embarrassing when you’re not awake to see how fucking crazy he looks, flushed, cock twitching between his legs as he strains to kiss you again, lick over your tongue for more of your taste, and breathes your name. “Baby, fuck- I need to be inside you.” He wants to hide away in your safety forever. A crystalline, fucked up thought springs up in his mind for just a second, but he banishes that with a few blinks.

Instead he lines himself up over your hot, needy pussy and pushes inside just the head at first, grunting tightly at the softness that envelops him. His whole body shudders as he pushes in deeper, feeling that pit in his stomach expand with each inch that he goes deeper, tangles his fingers with yours when he bottoms out and fills you up so well. You’re curled into his touch, and he kisses you, his thoughts blanking as he pulls back, and snaps his hips back inside you. You’re hot and wet and it feels so fucking good, clenching your hand inside his larger one. It’s not fair. He’s losing his mind, and you’re always the end of him.

His cock rubs against your swollen insides with rough, imprecise strokes — he doesn’t mean to, it’s just that trying to focus on anything other than the heat as he slides in and out of your tight pussy is too much. You’re too much; you’re haunting him even now. He kisses down your face to your neck, sucks on your skin and bites down hard enough to make a serious mark, wanting to hear you cry. Normally, you’d cry out his name so pretty, dig your nails into his back until he’s letting you go and grinding back on his cock, but you can’t do that now. His cockhead bumps your spot each time he fucks himself into you further, but it’s not enough.

It’s never been enough. He wants to be closer to you, and that horrible image that was launched into his head creeps back up before his eyes, bloody and horrible. Maybe he always told himself that he hated you because - no matter how much he fought, he would never be able to stomach actually hurting you as much as it hurts him. But now, withering on top of you as his cock thumps with how much blood rushes south, everything else falls away. He wants to claw and bite and carve his way to your insides and make you pay just a little for his sins. His body is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, thighs pumping blood through his body to his lungs, his gut, his cock.

He pulls out of you to kiss down your tits and over your covered ribs, thumbing over the head of his cock and gliding it over your puffy clit, your wet pussy lips and flicking it just in and out of your drooling cunt— before he puts a sloppy few kisses there too, tongue coated in slick. The blood pumps through his head so hard he feels dizzy, pounding behind his eyes as the heat of your cunt overwhelms him entirely. It’s too hard to stay sane -he’s never felt less sane than now- when you’re laying below him like this, ready to leave him all alone. You wormed your way into his heart when he didn’t want it, and now, now that’s all about to end.

His mouth is dry, but he’s drooling as he grips your thigh and kneads the doughy skin of your tummy— looking so soft and warm and perfectly shaped for him. He wants -needs, needs it, to feel you swallow him, ruin him- to cut you open and eat your insides out with the sick force of what he’s feeling right now— he groans your name again, desperately trying and failing to get it out of his head— the more he tries the better it feels to think it. Despite having his fist around the base of his cock, stings of white shoot over your body as he crumples in on himself and paints you with his cum. He’s still hard though, painfully so, and as soon as he’s done cumming he can already feel the building urge to do it again, trailing his shaking fingers down to your clenching pussy and rubbing your clit until your body starts wiggling back just a little too.

Megumi wants to go, bury this urge down and never think of it again. He really does— but it’s like he’s possessed, drooling over your body and flicking his cock in and out of your pussy without sliding back in. He might’ve had it wrong this whole time, but if this is love - God, he loves you, he loves, loves, loves you so much he’s not ever going to have enough. Can’t ever say goodbye, not when his entire soul’s been bound to yours, has been rotted away into nothing like this. There’s only you, and him; and he can’t get close enough to make this fucking feeling go away.

With black spots swimming over his vision, he’s not sure what he’s doing until he’s knelt on the floor and shards of glass cut his knees open through his pants; he doesn’t feel it - just trembles as he gets one of the larger shards and crawls back to you, right between your plush thighs as he kisses your face over and over until he feels like he’ll be sick. “Forgive me when you wake up, baby.” It doesn’t really sound like him anymore, faint and messy as he ruts his cock against the inside of your thigh and stares at your face for a little longer. He paws at your tummy again, maybe it’s the lack of oxygen - he feels like he hasn’t taken a breath in ages - or the fact that all his blood is cleary in his swollen cock, hot and heavy.

He kisses you again, pants against your chest as he watches between your two bodies as one arm keeps him up, and the other drags the shard of glass below your belly button just hard enough to create a little cut. He just- just wants to be a little closer, you’ll let him, you’ll let him- he’s been so fucking mean to you and if he can just do this, he’ll make it up to you. Specks of blood well up that he swipes his thumb through to slide it into his mouth, get used to the taste of copper on his tongue. Sometimes he bites your lip hard enough to split it, and you tear up and whine, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He could cum on the spot when you yank like that, but the taste now isn’t enough. As he pushes the shard of glass into your skin harder, watching one layer make way for another, tougher tissue that still gives when he grids down a little- he waits for the moment where he feels bad, regrets and walks it all back- but the feeling doesn’t come. Your body looks so pretty like this, robbed of your innocence by his hands; and he doesn’t wanna cum yet, fuck. The adrenaline swimming in his head is pounding too hard to feel anything other than love for you, and the pulling, almost unbearable sensation of wanting to slide back into you. The blood pools around the hole as he slides along, hearing the skin squelch and snap, building a sweat along his neck and collar. Maybe you’d lick it up if you were awake.

The blood runs, covers his entire fist that’s wrapped tight around the glass, it creates little rivers that you’ll both be laying in soon. He coughs, before kissing you below your jaw, feeling the weak pulse beneath his lips— and righting himself to look at his work with a better angle, groaning. There’s both more blood and less than he expected, pooling in your belly button, all over your pretty pussy, his thighs and hands- his cock not yet. He drops the glass aside as he thumbs over the wound and sure enough- he’s cut through fat and muscle and sinew without too much struggle, because you’re soft all over.

He pushes the fleshy gash open more, thumbs over the clean cut he made with a strange sort of fascination before the hot, hot blood gets to be too much for his curiosity and he leans in to lick from your clit up, up, up until his tongue reaches the raised, tight skin— what has he done, what’s he doing, this, this isn’t — he can’t stand the heat that’s coming out of you for long, and it smells, but that isn’t what sticks with him right now. He’s never wanted to be closer. The gaping pouch of your belly’s drooling red for him. The head of his cock twitches when he feels the hot of your stomach coating him in blood, and coating you in turn. The cum from before’s all but washed away, but he’s sure he can give you another couple orgasms before he tuckers out.

He’s strung so high all of this feels like a dream, like his head is about to roll off of his neck; he pushes in with a garbled sort of sound that comes from deep, deep inside him. The skin doesn’t wanna give way at first, but he manages to push back hard enough before suddenly he’s inside, and it’s like nothing else. The pressure of a slab of skin taking him where it’s not meant to go— bleeding and whining out like this, it’s euphoric. He’s able to see his cock’s outline glide into you until it’s bulging your stomach, squelching and sucking him back in; feels like you’re taking him deeper than ever, letting him fuck his cock so deep he’ll hit your ribs soon. You’re so fucking beautiful, even like this, getting coated and letting him fuck it.

He doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re dying, but the peace that washes him entirely clean might be close; he grinds his hips into you hard enough to rock your body under him as he laces your hands again. Both, this time, just chasing after an end that seems like it’ll never come.

He feels infinite. Your blood’s so hot it’s almost painful, and the tightness of the hole he carved into you is entirely different from your pussy, pushing back against him like you’re begging him to get out. He imagines you’d beg so pretty- but he’s inside you, finally inside and deeper than anyone’s ever been. He’s able to watch his cock blow up your belly and make it hollow when he pulls back, and God- he should feel worse than he does. He could swallow you whole if you’d let him. The feeling has him shuddering over you as he pants your name, makes your tits brush over his chest- and his balls smack against the smooth stretch of skin until he can’t feel his feet any longer.

Now he’s got you dirtied, he wants to ruin you too, leave you a mangled mess of flesh and swallow every last bit of you until he never forgets the taste. But that would require he’d stop fucking his hot cock into your bloody, little pouch, and that won’t happen. He’s panting, sweat running down his back from the effort, and his groin starts to feel a little raw too. He might’ve been going for hours by now, licking your mouth clean from his drool only to dirty you again. The head of his cock feels fucked raw inside you, and his thighs shake before his shoulders square over you.

Megumi speeds up his pace fucking into your guts -actually- until he clenches every muscle, is overcome again and reaches heaven inside you, spurting creamy white into the pouch he’s created for himself; “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck,” his hand has to twist into an uncomfortable position to reach for your clit, but he wildly does it anyway— cramping up, until he’s collapsing on top of you and stilling inside. The stench of blood makes the entire room smell, as he thumbs over the side of your blood-coated thigh with one hand, and feels the shaking all the way up and down his spine. He pulls out so slowly, pumping the last bits of cum out with a throaty moan, before he slides off the table onto awfully shaky legs.

If he was any more lucid, he’d think twice before leaning by your side to kiss your eyes, your nose, your pouty lips as the tears that must’ve been building for a while run down your temple— and suppresses the need to actually eat you- for now, he rubs a softer hand over your exposed tummy, before folding the now blood-drenched fabric of your skirt back down to hide your puffy pussy, lest he be tempted again. He whispers his love into your ears, nuzzles at your hairline until the feeling comes back to his hands and feet and he tucks his spent cock back into his boxers, and goes about cleaning the mess he made of the floor.

It’s only when an uncomfortable scratchy sound comes that he notices the burning heat on his neck, the dried sweat painfully sticky— and straightens up beside you when you start to shake again. Immediately his worry is sky high. Even in the gross air of mixed blood and cum and the scent of sex soaking everything, his mind is just clear enough to hold your head when you thrash around a few times, and your chest rises wildly up and down. Then before his very eyes, the damage he’d done upon you slowly starts to stitch itself together, like weaving threads. Lacing you up until every bit of muscle, fat, and skin restores to it’s pristine glory before he ever touched you, with a little puff of cursed energy.

He bites his lip hard when the shaking stops, and your back lands back onto the metal with a soft clang. The noise is louder now it’s quiet in the room. Megumi waits for a bit longer before he brushes the hair from your face, and doesn't mind it that he’s leaving tracks. The darkness is filled with his tense breathing, and then — every sound at once. Your eyes shoot open with a cry, sobbing out like a baby for a few painful seconds. But then spot him thumbing your tears away devoted like he is -though he won’t admit it to you, and you let out a noise of pure relief.

It’s almost poetic, when you crash back into his arms and this time, he lets your arms wind around his waist.

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