Point Of No Return Part 2

now let's talk about atsumu's stamina

message delivered | miya atsumu

this is part 2 to typing… find part one here!

miya atsumu x f!reader - 18+

warnings: smut, size kink, light hair pulling, praise, oral (male & fem receiving), fingering

wc: 4.9k

A/N: this was supposed to be a 1.5k pwp. idk what happened. thank u to @atsumuse for hyping me up the entire time i was writing this and being my baeta

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since that one crazy, unbelievable drunk night when you spilled your guts about how sexy you thought Miya Atsumu, MSBY Setter #13, was. Since then, it feels like you’ve constantly been walking on air. After Bokuto had so rudely interrupted your video call with Atsumu, the latter had been quick to give you his number, asking you if you had time the following day to “finish what we started”.

Unfortunately, you didn’t. As much as you wanted to drop all of your responsibilities, you’d had prior obligations and couldn’t find any excuse out of them. You cursed being an adult, responding with disappointment and shaky fingers, hoping that Atsumu wouldn’t ghost you for not jumping at the opportunity to meet up with him. Luckily, he was completely understanding, saying that the next time he’ll be in town will be in two weeks and that he hopes he’ll get the chance to see you then.

That didn’t stop you two from texting each other nonstop, especially now that you had his number. At first you were hesitant, not wanting to come off as too clingy or obsessive, but with every passing day and text exchanged between the two of you, that quickly wore off. It helped that Atsumu always returned your enthusiastic energy and reciprocated the eager itch you felt in your fingers. 

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hi !! congrats on 2k!!!! you deserve it! for the event can i get sakusa + choking? with anything else you might want to add in there! thank you and pls take care of yourself <3

hi ren!!! omg tysm 💘 ur such a huge inspo to me!! <3 and yes i went for yander and noncon too, hope u like it !

sakusa kyoomi x fem! reader [haikyuu]

wordcount: 700

tw/ choking, toxic relationships, yandere, noncon.

“Where were you?” 

You frooze. Sakusa stood silently in the dark hallway with a growing glare on his face. 

“I was out with friends, I am sorry I came home a little late.” 

“A little?” he walked into the living, the frown much more prominent under the white lights.  “You didn’t call, text, nothing.” his tone was grave, he was beyond pissed and he had every right to be. You were gone for such a long time.

“My phone died.”  

“Your phone died?” he pulled his smartphone out of his pockets and dialed your number. A tiny groan left his lips when your phone started ringing. 

“I-I can explain!” 

Dating Sakusa was...difficult. He wasn’t like other men, he was a lot harder to manage. At first, you thought the only obstacles which would come with dating him would be his germophobia. You expected that he would ask you to take more baths and clean more often. And you were okay with it, besides it was a good practice for you too. But soon, it was clear the entire relationship was a red flag.

“Who were you out with?” Sakusa asked, his voice lower and filled with dread. “I was just out with Sakura, you can even ask her! I was with her all the time.” 

Sakusa was a little, a lot possessive. He did not like you going out of the house, he did not like you talking to people other than him. He was fixed on you. Sometimes he treated you more like his little child rather than his girlfriend. 

He uttered your name shutting you up. He walked in closer and you took a step back. Sakusa’s eyes were darker and they held a hateful glint, he looked angry and disappointed. 

“Stop running away from me!” he threw his arm out, wrapping it around your delicate neck. Pushing you against the cold wall, he held you there while he towered over you. 

He looked down at you viciously, he vexxed eyes never leaving you for a second. 

Your hands automatically shot up, grabbing his, trying to push his heavy grip away. 

“You are making a fool out of yourself, stop.” he commanded but you continued to fight anyways. Sakusa chose to ignore you as he tightened his grips around your neck, 

“Why do you always have to do this? You can just fucking listen to me! I hate it when you don’t. I told you not to go out with that whore, I don’t trust her. Why don’t you ever listen to me dammit!” 

 For some reason, Sakusa was obsessed with the idea that your best friend since your childhood was a slut. He never liked her and insisted you stay away from her but there was no way you could actually do that to your sister-like best friend.

He clicked his tongue. “There’s so much I need to tell you,” he groaned. “But now...It’s not the time.” 

Since you refused to look up at him, you were able to catch a view of his sweats and his rock hard cock which was pressed against the cotton fabric. 

“I was so lonely when you left,” he almost moaned in your ear, increasing his grip on your neck even more. You felt like you were going to pass out. His other hand snaked down to his crotch, palming his erection. “You should not have done that.” He rasped in your ear. 

He lets go of your neck and pushes you onto the couch. You take a deep breath before speaking. You already know what’s coming to you but yet you ask, 

“If...I- I say no, will you stop?”

Sakusa looks at you for a second, giving you a fixed look. You take it as a no. 

He rips off your dress and shoves your panties aside. 

“Why would you wear that skimpy dress if you weren’t looking to get fucked? Won’t be surprised if this cunt is already used.” He shoves a finger into your hole and you gasp. 

Sakusa scoffs, “Guess not.” 

He plays with your pussy for a moment before lining his fat length to your tiny hole. With minimum prep he pushes his cock past your hole, tearing you into two. You cry at the pain as he defiles. 

Sakusa has a lot to do to you tonight, but he’d like to start with getting his dick wet.  

clouds

smoke sessions with suna always end the same way, but tonight’s proves to be different.

+ pairing: stoner!suna rintarou x female reader

+ word count: 1.9k

+ cw: {they’re 18+} drug usage + hinted dealing, cursing, shotgunning (once), high sex, unprotected sex, sloppy car smut, riding, (one) use of the pet name ‘bunny’, lil dash of fluff.

+ a/n: be nice this is only like the second time i’ve ever wrote sm*t & i really tried to make it all poetic but it turned into.. you’ll see

clouds. they filled your consciousness, your lungs, the air around you, everything was deep in the white. or maybe you were up in them, you weren’t really sure anymore. the only thing you were positive of, was the slight burn sitting in your chest, the dull twinkling of the stars through the tinted sunroof, and suna’s big hand draping on your upper thigh.

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stray kitten | r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rafe x homeless!pogue!reader, heavy somnophilia, blackmail/manipulation, size difference, DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think :)

Rafe icon: @/rafesfavslvt on pinterest!

In which Rafe grants you the freedom to come and go as you wish in his condo—but in return, your body becomes his to use freely.

word count: 3.5k

rafe cameron masterlist

The first night you met, a crashing sound wakes Rafe from his sleep. He’s delirious and still wearing his clothes from the same day. His flight had landed on the mainland at 11 o'clock, and after a long drive to Kildare, he'd collapsed on the couch in his condo's living room. He couldn’t quite gauge the time, but the sun hadn’t yet begun to creep through the tall windows that framed his space.

His mind was still foggy but he knew there was someone in his home, “Shit,” He muttered underneath his breath as he pulled himself off the couch and attempted to get his bearings. He found his phone, close to dying, lying underneath a pillow. The time read 2:19 a.m., making Rafe wince. He knew he hadn’t given anyone permission to be in his house. Sofia was the only one with a key and they were currently on an “off” phase of their on and off relationship. 

Rafe tucked his phone into his pocket, letting his eyes adjust, and quickly determining his plan of action. The bookcase beside the large-screen TV held a drawer. Precisely, Rafe moved over to it, and quietly retrieved a handgun that was discreetly hidden inside. 

The sounds of movement grew louder from the kitchen, and he could pinpoint the exact location now. His gaze shifted toward the hallway just off the living room, the one that led directly to the kitchen. Without hesitation, Rafe made his way toward it, the weight of the gun in his hand grounding him. 

The floorboards at the entrance to kitchen creaked slightly underneath his weight. Rafe knew he wouldn’t have the upperhand for long, soon he’d come face to face with the intruder, and he moved with determination. 

His heart beat louder than he wanted. As if on cue, the noise continued, and Rafe’s gun pointed toward his walk-in pantry. A quick shuffle of feet, Rafe moved quickly, strong arms pushing the door to the pantry completely open with one hand, the other tightly gripping the gun. 

He second guessed himself as soon as he saw you. His eyes scrunched in confusion just as you dropped the glass cookie jar in your hands, and the glass shattered all around your feet. The sound echoed in the quiet room, sharp and jarring.

For a brief moment, neither of you moved. Rafe’s gaze searched your face before he scanned you over. Scrawny legs, dark, golden skin and bare feet that were unprotected by the glass now around your feet. 

His grip on the gun tightened instinctively, but he hesitated, watching as you flinched at the sound of the shattering jar. Frightened, doe-like eyes looked back at him, wide and vulnerable. Your face was soft, framed by large, unruly curls that tumbled down your shoulders, “Don’t move,” It came off more threatening than he intended, “You’ll cut yourself.”

You didn’t respond though Rafe could see you were holding your breath. He lowered the gun. There was something wild in your eyes, untamed. Rafe’s curiosity piqued, “Who-Who are you?” Rafe asked, “What are you doing in my house?”

A long silence followed and the tension grew thicker, “I know you understand me,” Rafe continued. He took notice of your clothing. Your jean shorts reached just above your knee and were practically falling off your hips. You wore a raggedy sweatshirt with all the letters faded and you were clutching an old, leather backpack, “You here to steal from me?”

Rafe appeared disheveled, his button-up shirt untucked from his khakis, but even in his disorder, he stood in stark contrast to you.

You shook your head, eyes bursting with fear, “I didn’t … I didn’t mean to…”

“You didn’t mean to?” Rafe replied a little too quickly and you gave him a look that said you might shrink in on yourself. 

“I’ll … leave. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were home.” 

“That’s called breaking and entering.” 

“I’m sorry,” You repeated again and Rafe couldn’t help the incredulous look that spread across his face, “All the lights were out and I just …I didn’t have anywhere to go.”

Rafe nodded slowly, trying to process your presence and the fact that he currently had the power to …possibly, do whatever he pleased with you. He could call the police. Or threaten to call the police. He could see what you were willing to do in order for him not to call the police on you. What would you be able to do? You barely looked strong enough to carry the bag on your shoulder. He didn’t need the gun or a threat to the police. He could easily overpower you. His thoughts wandered down that path, and he felt no guilt in doing so; he had long ago accepted the darker side of his nature. Still, you had taken the risk, broken in all on your own.

You were desperate, Rafe thought, as the realization sank in.

“You running from someone, sweetheart?” Rafe questioned further, “You got warrants? People after you?”

You shook your head quickly, “No warrants. No one…” It was vulnerable information, Rafe could see it in your eyes, but he currently held your fate in his hands. You had to trust him for the time being, “No one’s looking for me. My foster parents kicked me out, uh, a long time ago. And I just … don’t have that many friends right now. I was just going to crash for the night.”

“And take my food?” Rafe added, a tired smile on his lips. 

You were still unsettled, naturally, but Rafe had already decided your fate, “Yeah,” You admitted, “I’m sorry. If you let me leave, you will never see me again. I promise. Please don’t call-”

You froze when Rafe lifted his gun again. He made a show of him flipping on the gun’s safety and placing it on the kitchen counter. He took a step forward, luckily, he fell asleep in his Tom Ford loafers which could protect him from the shattered glass. He stood in the pantry, door way, reaching a hand out to you. When Rafe sensed your hesitation, he said, “I’m not going to call the police,” He reassured you, “Let me help you so you don’t cut your fucking feet and get blood everywhere.”

You let his larger hand, envelope yours, and you were about to take a hesitant hop over the glass but as you leaned closer, so did Rafe. Before you could react, he effortlessly lifted you, setting you down on the far side of the kitchen. “Stay there,” he commanded, his tone firm. “I’m serious, don’t move.”

You didn’t even know his name, yet his presence alone had you nodding in quick, unquestioning compliance.

His line of questioning continued as you watched him procure of a broom and dust pan, “You’re from the Cut?”

“Yeah,” You answered timidly. It wasn’t fully true. You’d grown up everywhere but the foster parents that had taken you in at fifteen were from the Cut and you’d made your Kildare your home over the next years. 

“I’m Rafe.”

“...Y/N.”

“And do you usually do your breaking and entering barefoot?”

"I don’t like shoes," you said, your voice carrying a weight of seriousness that caught Rafe off guard. He paused in his crouch, lifting his gaze to meet yours as he stopped sweeping the glass. His eyes searched your face, trying to gauge the sincerity behind your words. "Never have. And I don’t do a lot of breaking and entering…"

“You don’t like shoes,” Rafe repeated in understanding, “And you’ve got a sweet tooth?”

“You didn’t have much real food,” You said and regretted it quickly, “I mean-”

Rafe stood and you watched him bring the scraped up glass to the trashcan, “Noted,” Rafe interrupted, “I apologize, I travel too much. And I’m not much of a cook.”

“I didn’t mean…I’m sorry,” You spoke sincerely, pressing yourself back into his marble countertops. His kitchen was huge, covered floor to ceiling in white fixtures and marble accents. You could feed an entire orphanage with a kitchen like this and yet you had come to the conclusion that he lived alone, “I’m not picky. I’m really not. And I will pay you back for the jar.”

“Oh yeah?” Rafe’s eyes narrowed at you as he moved closer to you, “How do I know you won’t pay me back with money you stole?”

You couldn’t help that your jaw tensed at the question, “I guess you wouldn’t know.”

“And how do I know you won’t come back with one of your pogue friends?” He held you with his gaze, so much so that it became too late for you to realize that he was placing both his hands on either side of you, effectively pinning you against the counter. Instinctively, your hand reach out to keep him from coming closer. That was far too intimate, you realized, as your hands came in contact with the hardness of his chest. You gasped, your hand falling helplessly back to your side, “You sure there’s no lowlife pogue boyfriend out looking for you right now?”

“No,” You spoke rapidly, “Yes, I mean, I’m sure there isn’t. And I won’t come back-” 

“But you’ll do this again. You’ll get hungry or cold. And you’ll probably meet someone who’s not as kind and welcoming as me.” 

Your breathing started to grow uneven and your eyes began to look for an exit, an escape plan, “If you’re not calling the police then I’ll leave. After that, it wouldn’t really be your business.” 

He seemed to nod with understanding but he kept you trapped there, “I have another way you can pay for that jar, sweetheart. And the sleep I’ve lost. And whatever else you have stuffed in your bag.” 

A cold realization washed over you, “I promise I’ll leave and won’t come back-”

Rafe shushed you. You felt a hand at your waist, a hand so large it effortlessly almost encircled your entire torso. His finger traced the waistband of your jeans, the movement slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. Then, his thumb brushed against the skin of your stomach. The sheer size of him, his imposing presence, his towering height, felt like a physical weight pressing down on you. 

“You don’t want to leave,” He leaned down to speak into your ear. This was the reality of your situation. You were aware of the risks. You were only scared that he would hurt you badly, “You’ve got nowhere to go, sweetheart. You’re hungry. Tired. You want a warm bed to sleep in tonight, don’t you? A hot shower?” 

“Yes,” You spoke weakly. 

“Good, then stay,” His words settled into the air like a final decree, and you couldn’t escape them. Not physically, and not mentally.

The first night happened like a dream. He made you hot food, something that came frozen, but you could microwave in a few minutes. After he watched you devour the entirety of the meal, he led you upstairs to his bedroom. Even in the dim light, of the early morning, the hues of cream and white gave the room a serene feeling. It was a distinct reminder of how different your world was from his. 

He left you alone to shower in his luxurious bathroom. The rainfall showerhead cascaded warm water over you, washing away two days of grime and exhaustion. The soothing stream was almost enough to lull you to sleep right there. You explored the shelves, trying a eucalyptus soap and using far too much from the expensive bottles of shampoo and conditioner, their silky textures foreign to you. When you stepped out, the heated floor greeted your feet with comforting warmth, and you wrapped yourself in a fluffy white robe that felt softer than anything you'd ever owned.

Standing before the mirror in the double vanity, you finally confronted your reflection. You began detangling your hair with your fingers, doing your best before braiding it into long plaits. For the first time in years, as you stared at yourself, you felt a glimmer of humanity, a version of yourself you had almost forgotten.

Finally, you found a spare toothbrush and freshened up, the minty taste a small but satisfying indulgence. Layers of cozy linens and soft throw blankets seemed to call you from the bedroom. Quietly, you left the bathroom and stepped back into the dimly lit space, your eyes drifting to the man who had taken you in.

He lay peacefully in his bed, his business clothes abandoned. The faint glow of moonlight revealed the contours of his bare torso, and though he appeared peaceful, there was no mistaking that undercurrent of danger that lingered in his presence. Handsome yet terrifying, he seemed both protector and predator.

Logic urged you to leave, to take the fleeting comforts he had offered and disappear before he could demand anything in return. But exhaustion and the strong pull of his presence overruled your better judgment. Silently, you slipped onto the opposite side of the California king bed, careful not to wake him. When he didn’t stir, you allowed yourself to sink into the luxurious mattress. Sleep claimed you within moments.

Something, someone, gently lulled you from your sleep later in the morning. You didn’t know it then but it wouldn’t be the last time you’d wake up with Rafe on top of you. Soft touches, kisses, peppered across your cheek. Small pecks against your lips. The feeling was almost comforting enough for you to not realize the reality of your situation. As soon as you did remember that you were in a stranger’s home underneath said stranger, your body reacted accordingly. 

You bit down on his lip.

"Fuck!" he hissed, pulling back slightly. You seized the moment to push against him, but any hope of escape vanished as his hand shot up, gripping your throat with unnerving ease.

“Don’t fucking move,” he commanded, his voice low and razor-sharp.

Your words caught in your throat and you stared up at the man with wide eyes, “You’re feisty in the morning, kitten,” Rafe breathed out, wiping his lip with his free hand. A thin smear of blood painted his fingertips. “Calm down, your body’s ready, your mind just hasn’t caught up.”

Although you were unable to look down at your body, you realized that the robe you slept in was wide open, exposing your naked body, “You’re already wet. I made sure.” He explained in most normal of tones. You realized what he was implying. 

“You touched me while I was sleeping?” You were able to ask once you gave the impression that you were calming down and he loosened his grip. The words were weaker than you intended. 

“What was I supposed to do, huh?” A wicked smirk grew on his lips, “I’ve got a half naked girl in my bed. I’m s’posed to keep my hands to myself? Be a saint?”

You swallowed, “Can you just …” Your voice came out uncertain, “I d-don’t have that much experience.”

His smirk grew even more, “You don’t want me to be rough? Don’t want me to bite you so hard you bleed? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?” 

You threw your head back in frustration, “You scared me.”

“That’s not the response I was looking for, kitten.”

“I’m sorry,” You corrected yourself, “I’m sorry for biting you.”

“Good girl,” Rafe kissed the side of your lip and you tried your best not to squirm, “Ask me what you wanted to ask me.”

Hands on either side of your head, he pressed his lower body into yours and his hard member pressing against your naked skin made your eyes widen in fear. You couldn’t look down, knowing that if you could visualize how big he was, you’d never stop fighting him. 

“Will you be gentle with me?” You asked the stranger, “Please don’t hurt me, Rafe.” 

The words you spoke out of nervousness seemed to add to his exhilaration. His body enveloped yours, the weight of him pressing down on you. It was inescapable, Rafe pushing all of his length, slowly but fully inside of you, “Won’t hurt you, little one,” You held onto him out of necessity, wanting to stabilize yourself, but your body told you to do the opposite. Although your legs were pinned, you tried to push away from him, not believing your body could fit all of him, “I know it doesn’t hurt. You’re ready for me. Don’t you fucking run.” 

“Please,” You whimpered. He was right. It wasn’t pain that you were feeling, “It feels too … too much. Too full.” 

Rafe hooked his arms around your legs, folding you into yourself, as he pushed himself deeper, “Shit, shit, shit,” you gasped, the words tumbling out as your head fell back. “Ffff—oh my god!”

“You can do it, little one,” Rafe coaxed you through the sensation, “Look at you. Taking me so deep. You’ve almost got all of me.” 

Almost, the word made you want to explode. You tried to leave your mind, to not overthink in that moment, knowing your anxiety was getting the best of you. You focused on his words. Maybe he was right? You could do it and you could do a good job. He’s too big, but he’s right, you’re not in pain. 

Rafe’s face swirled with amusement and ecstasy, “Fuck, let me use that tight little pussy,” He groaned, shifting his hips slightly, only to test how much further he could sheath himself inside of you, “You’re being such a good girl, squeezing me so good.” 

The praise sent an unexpected jolt of pleasure through you. His voice was warm but demanding. He wanted you to surrender, and deep down, you wanted that to. 

Your breath hitched as he pressed forward again, and your body instinctively clenched around him. “Rafe,” you whimpered, his name slipping past your lips.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Say my name again, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, embarrassed by how easily he unraveled you, but Rafe wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, pulling you impossibly closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Say it.”

“Rafe,” you whispered obediently.

“Good girl.” His approval came like a reward. 

He adjusted his pace, moving in a rhythm that felt more intentional. It was overwhelming having him inside of you but you weren’t prepared for him to pull in an out of you, pushing deeper with each thrust. 

You weren’t sure if you were still dreaming. The gentle sound of the ocean outside the open windows providing a steady backdrop to the moment. The curtains swayed gently in the breeze, their flowing fabric catching the morning light.

It wasn’t a bad bargain, your mind started to rationalize the situation. When Rafe eventually finished deep inside of you, your body shaking beneath him, he proposed the idea of the two of you continuing your arrangement. Rafe traveled so much and it wasn’t in your nature to stay in one place for too long, he offered to host you whenever you wished. As long as you kept what was between your legs for him, you could make yourself at home, even when he wasn’t. 

He kept his fridge stocked for you, left you gifts in the form of new clothes (never shoes), and gift cards to restaurants and stores. 

Sometimes you’d go weeks in between seeing him, having missed each other, but when you were together, Rafe took full advantage. 

The sunroom became your sanctuary—a place where the world slowed down. You spent hours there, stretched out on a chaise lounge, the warmth of the sun blanketing your skin as you flipped through pages of a book or dozed off to the sound of distant waves.

Rafe loved to find you napping. The first time he came home from a long, work trip and found your body laid out on the soft carpet of the sunroom floor, he wasted no time. Easily, he lifted your patchwork dress and pushed your panties to the side. As soon as you stirred from your sleep, you realized he was pressing his length against your entrance, “Rafe,” You called out, half asleep, but he was already inside of you, “What –”

“Did you miss me?” He asks as he slowly moves in and out of you. 

You gasp from the sensation but also the shock. He doesn’t leave room for you to protest, to second guess yourself, because he presses his weight into you and pins you there to the floor. In prone position, he fucks you hard and slow, “Did you miss me, kitten?” He asks again and you try your hardest to form the words. 

“Yes,” You managed, able to feel just how much he missed you, “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” He confirms and you can practically hear his smirk, “This little pussy hasn’t been fucked in a week.”

The thought makes you grateful for that overwhelming feeling. That fullness. 

“Gotta take care of my kitten.”

+

Pls reblog and let me know what you think!! :)

The Monster You Know

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: For your own safety, the strongest sorcerer of today kidnaps you.

Word Count: 6.9k

(Warnings: implied masturbation, implied nsfw, implied noncon recording, death of a minor character.....im pretty sure i missed a warning so lemme know any pls)

Instead of waking up in a bed, you find yourself on the floor.

It's not a comfortable spot to sleep in. The carpet is clean, but it's odd because you don't have this type of carpet in your room. Actually, this isn't your room at all. 

But the panic doesn't really set in until you realize your arms are bound. 

You don't notice him until he speaks. You're too busy yanking on the metal, pulling your hand as hard as you could. The cuffs don't even budge. 

"If you keep yanking your arms like that, you might break 'em." 

He's tall, rivaling the door he just walked through. He looks a couple of years older than you, but his white hair can't be natural, not at his age. His blue eyes are lax. The worst part is how relaxed he looks. He has an eased posture and a pretty smile. He's amused, watching you like you’re a pesky mouse trapped in a bucket. 

You don’t know him. You’re stuck in an unfamiliar room, chained to the floor, and you don’t know this man. 

Escape isn’t possible. So you resort to the next best thing: you plead. 

“Who are you?” Your voice is light and wavers on every syllable. “Where-Where am I? Did you bring me here? Please don’t-“

”You always this talkative in the morning?” He dodges your question with a lax grin. “Anyway, uh, sorry about this-“ he gestures to your tied-up form “-I would've used a talisman, but those won’t work on you for obvious reasons. The handcuffs aren’t too tight, are they?” 

He steps closer, and you scream. It’s shrill, filled with a type of fear that makes your blood freeze because you don’t know this man, you don’t know where you are, and he’s getting closer. 

“Okay okay, I get it!” He manages to say over your pleas for help, but he steps back, and it’s enough to quiet your fear. “Obviously, you need some more time alone, so I’m gonna give you a couple more hours. Feel free to take a mint!” He cheerily points to the nightstand. 

He leaves as quickly as he enters. The door shuts but doesn’t lock. You’d be relieved if you weren’t still incapacitated. 

You look around the room. Nothing of value, nothing that you could reach and grab. Apart from a chair, the only other pieces of furniture were a heavy-looking bed and a bolted-down nightstand. Your kidnapper was certainly meticulous. 

The restraints have just enough slack for you to lean over. You peer at the nightstand. A plastic bowl, too flimsy to be made into a weapon. It contains wrapped-white candies. You gingerly pick one up. 

They’re sugar-free. 

He returns to the mints scattered all over the floor. 

“Okay.” He notes, gracefully stepping over the mess. “Clearly, you aren’t a fan of peppermint. 'you a wintergreen kinda’ person?” 

You don’t look at him. You’ve been in the same position you had been in for hours, sitting curled on the floor. By then, your desperation was starting to show through. 

“Please just let me go.” You mutter, your voice so low, it’s a miracle he can hear you. “I don’t have any money. I have nothing to offer.”

”Well, that’s good because I don’t want your money.” He says. “I know this looks pretty bad, but this is for your sake more than mine.”

You look at him just as he squats down to your height. You shift away. he smiles.

”Do you know what sorcerer's are?” 

You blink. 

“It’s fine if you don’t; we all start somewhere, right? A sorcerer is someone who can manipulate cursed energy. I’m a sorcerer! I don’t wanna brag too much, but I’m pretty good at it.” 

He laughs like he’s telling a joke, and you suddenly realize that you were kidnapped by someone who believes he’s a wizard. 

“Guess you’re still lost, huh? How about I just show you instead?” He points to an ironed-out shirt hanging on a rack. You follow his finger. 

He didn't move. There was no machinery. The shirt just crinkled by itself before it dropped to the floor. 

You gape. The man grins. 

"Pretty amazing, right? That's cursed energy, or, my power if you wanna be less technical." 

"Cursed energy." You whisper, a repetition of his words rather than any actual understanding. He beams regardless. 

"Yeah! Well, it's a little more complicated than that, but let's just start with the basics for now. Baby steps." 

Your dread doesn't fade. Earlier, you feared what a man could do to you, tied and defenseless. Now, you wondered what this man wouldn't do to you. 

"Okay, then....why?" You warily ask him. "Why tell me any of this? What's the point?" 

"An excellent question!" He commends you, as though he were your teacher and not your jailor. "See, cursed energy is a bit complicated, but it's extremely effective. In almost every case, it's the solution. Except for you." 

You shrink back. 

"What-what does that mean?"

His grin turns feline. He's enjoying this; seeing you shake, waver beneath his eyes. 

"Exactly what I said: you aren't affected by cursed energy. A sorcerer could use their technique on you, and there won't even be a scratch on your body. You're basically the Eraserhead of the Jujutsu World." 

You stare at him. He hums, drumming his fingers on his thigh. 

"I'm not great at explanations. How about we just have a hands-on experience?" 

He extends his hands. A purple orb crackles to life, slowly gaining mass. 

"Not too big," he says, though it's clear he isn't speaking to you, "don't wanna wreck the room." 

He adjusts his angle so it's facing you. Your eyes widen, and the desperation to wrangle yourself out of the handcuffs grows stronger. 

"Wait, stop!" You pleads fall on deaf ears. "Okay okay. I believe you. I believe you-" He flicks his fingers. You close your eyes just before impact. 

You expected something. Electricity, a shock. Pain. Your body being eviscerated in milliseconds. 

Nothing. Not even a gust of wind. 

When your eyes open, he's grinning at you. 

"See?" He says, "Not even a scratch." 

He's right. Your clothes aren't even rustled, but the evidence is there. The carpet below you is shaved and cleaned off. And the wall closest to you has cracks on it.

You look back up at him. 

"I said I believed you." 

He shrugs. "Doesn't hurt to make sure we're on the same page." His smile is starting to look less scary and more annoying. 

Your mind still struggles to keep up with all the information you've been given. The typhoon of anxiety is coursing through you. 

"So, then....why this?" You mention to the handcuffs. 

"Just a little confirmation you won't go crazy and destroy the place." He supplies happily. "If jujutsu doesn't work on you, then bindings and talismans definitely won't do a thing. Looking back, abduction probably wasn't the greatest idea in the world. I would've figured something else out, but time wasn't on our side in this case. Especially if we wanted you alive." 

You pale at that. He notices. 

"What, you thought I'd be the only person who noticed you? You're an anomaly. In our world, that's dangerous. Also, the bounty on your head is a pretty nice incentive for people to get the job done." 

"A bounty?"

He grins, and the number he gives makes your mouth hang open. 

"Yup, pretty crazy, right? Anyway, until everything settles down, you and I are roomies!" He claps. "Isn't that exciting!?" 

You glance at him. Then, in the room. Then, at your cuffs. Everything was going so fast. The only constant was him. 

"So, I'm not really a prisoner?" You ask. "I could just...leave, right?" 

"Sure you could. If you hear all that and still wanna go, I won't stop you. Promise." He nods. "But you'd be dead as soon as you step out of the apartment." 

It's not a threat. It's a promise. And not from him. That makes it worse. 

This is insane. All of this is insane; who'd believe any of it? But his powers....that can't be faked. As well as everything that he told you. Why would he lie? What reason could he have to deceive you? 

"Okay," you say hesitantly, "just one more thing." 

The man leans in. 

"What's your name?" 

He smiles. 

Becoming Gojo's roommate was an easy transition. 

You’ve always been someone who goes with the flow. Becoming someone's consenting captive isn't a struggle once you get used to it. A few days in and you and your 'captor' have fallen into an easy rhythm. It's easy to grow trusting of him, especially when there are others who can vouch for him. 

"You should be arrested." Ieiri mumbles, checking your wrists. 

"What? I can't believe you're upset with me." Gojo responds though he doesn't sound very panicked. "I was desperate!" 

Ieiri shakes her head, continuing wrapping your wrists. Amid your panic during the first few hours in Gojo's apartment, you managed to sprain your wrists, trying to yank yourself out of the handcuffs. You wince when she presses on your bruised skin. 

"Sorry," she says, voice flat. You smile anyway. 

Ieiri was also a sorcerer, but she had a different technique. Instead of Gojo's destruction, hers revolved around healing. You've never really seen it in action ("My technique won't work on you; even then, it's a sprained wrist. You'll live."), but it sounded pretty powerful. 

"I'm not upset." Ieiri continues. "But I'm surprised you're going along with all this." That sentence is directed at you. 

You shrug while trying to keep still for her. "He was pretty convincing." 

Ieiri raises a brow, before ultimately deciding she doesn't care. 

"Again, I'm very sorry about all this." Ijichi pipes up. Ever since he entered Gojo's flat, he's been doing nothing but begging for your forgiveness for Gojo's abrupt actions. Apologetic, but not very shocked. You're assuming this isn't the first time Gojo has done something like this. 

Gojo's allies were very different from each other, you ultimately decided. 

“We thought we’d have more time to approach you,” he continues with a nervous smile, “we never expected the clans to move so quickly.” 

“Clans?” You ask, “What clans?” 

Ijichi gives Gojo a look. Gojo looks away, whistling. Eventually, Ijichi’s shoulders drop. 

“Some minor clans with dwindling jujitsu sorcerers.” He gives. “And then the bounty happened and well…” he trails off. 

You nod. “So, when will everything go back to normal?”

Gojo grins. Ieiri sighs. It’s Ijichi who gives the most concrete response. 

You look at the three of them. “Or will things ever go back to normal?”

”It’s hard to say,” Ijichi says, “news travels fast in the jujutsu world, but it’s not improbable. Miyashiro will let us know eventually.” 

"Miyashiro?” 

To answer your question, Ijichi pulls out his phone. You stare at a picture of yourself. But you know you’ve never been in that restaurant before. 

“It’s his technique.” Ijichi tells you. “Flesh manipulation. For the time being, Miyashiro will pose as you and can hopefully air out any potential bounty hunters. He’s the perfect man for the job.” 

You nod, a bit skeptical. “Isn’t this a bit dangerous? Aren’t people trying to kill me?” 

Ijichi tucks away his phone. “Miyashiro is one our best. He'll be fine.” He assures. 

Satisfied with your answers, you nod. Ieiri pulls away after she finishes wrapping your hand. Gojo claps his hands together. 

“See, roomie? You’re in great hands!” He chirps. You nod, if only to seem compliant. 

Apart from Gojo himself, Ieiri and Ijichi are the only ones who know about your predicament, his most trusted people. The rest of the world is unaware that there's someone posing as you, nor that you've gone into hiding. Not your friends. Not even your family. ("It's for the best," Ijichi explained when you voiced your worries, "but we promise, once the bounty is down, we'll return you back to your life. It'll be like nothing ever happened.").

Settling in barely takes a week. Gojo's nice enough to lend you his room, more than happy to set up in the living room. Despite how you two 'met', he's quickly proven to be a nice guy. 

Nice. Just nice. 

To be honest, you don't know all that much about Gojo. He's letting you stay in his home, but you don't see him all that much. Gojo is gone pretty much all day. Sometimes, he's gone for days on end. The apartment feels more like yours than his. 

"I'm the strongest." He told you when you asked. You don't know what he means by that, so you didn't pry. 

Despite the awkwardness, you don't mind the distant relationship. The man probably has his day packed with hunting down demons and this school he talked about. 

The change doesn't happen until two weeks after you move in. 

You weren't allowed to have a phone, nor any internet access, so you mostly spent your time doing hobbies. You've always wanted to learn to crochet, and now you finally had time to actually learn. Drawing also took some hours out of your day. And eventually, you moved onto cooking. 

Ijichi was more than happy to grab you the grocery items when you asked. When you insisted on paying him back, he declined profusely. He was actually the one who organized getting your things and really moving you in. You have another thing you owe these people. 

Cooking was a steep learning curve. Before, you'd only made simple sandwiches and curries, so the food starting out wasn't the best. But you enjoyed the journey more, rather than the end result. Pretty soon, you became pretty good at it. 

Gojo wasn't home often these days, so you jump when the front door clicks open. He takes off that blindfold he's always wearing, blinking a couple times before his blue gaze settles on you in the kitchen. 

"What's all this?" He cocks his head. He isn't smiling. 

Oh no. You remembered getting permission to use his kitchen, but maybe he hadn't expected you to go this far? The kitchen is a mess. There's flour everywhere. You still hadn't washed the cutting board, nor the knives. 

"I'm sorry," you say, "I-I can clean up and-" 

He waves his hand. "It's fine. I'm not mad, I just..." He drifts off. 

You suddenly have a feeling that you might've misread this entire situation. 

"Would you like some?" You ask. "I think I made too much." 

"I could eat," he says.

You smile. 

A few moments later, the two of you are settled on the table. Gojo's never been so quiet before. In the short time you've known him, he's always been boisterous and playful. Now, he's silent. Staring at the food. 

You hold your breath when he takes his first bite. 

"It's good." He says, his mouth full. It's cute. "Really, really good. Damn." 

You laugh out of nerves. 

"You think so? I'm glad! It was my first time trying out this recipe and I wasn't sure if it'd turn out well and..." you're rambling, you know that. You can't help yourself. 

"No, it's good. Real good," he says. It's silent again, but not as uncomfortable this time. The only thing you hear is the clanking of silverware and the hum of the lights. Outside the window, the city lights twinkle. 

You're on your last bite when he speaks again. 

"'been a while since I've had a homecooked meal." He starts with a slight laugh. "Kinda' forgot what it's like." 

You think of the fridge. How it was only ever stacked with protein shakes and instant meals. Gojo was a sorcerer. The strongest. You think you get what that means now. 

"I wouldn't mind doing this more often," you say. 

He looks at you with the prettiest blue you've ever seen. The color of a bright cloudless sky. 

"I think I'd like that." 

Who ever said the phrase 'the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach' was onto something. Your friendship with Gojo bloomed after that night. On the seldom nights he came home, dinner was made and sitting on the table. It took a few days for the two of you to warm up enough to talk to each other. Once Gojo got going, it was a lot harder to shut him up. He talked about his school, his work as a teacher for other jujutsu sorcerers. You liked the way he talked about his students. Nothing but pride and affection .

On the nights he didn't come home, you'd save the leftovers in the fridge. They were usually gone by the morning. 

He was around a lot more after that night. Not that you minded, it was his house. You just didn't get a few things about him. For example, that blindfold of his. Why wear it when it was clear he couldn't see with it on? 

You decide to bring it up the third time he nearly runs you over.

"It's part of my technique." He explains. "The six eyes. They're basically cursed energy x-rays. The blindfold just limits their strength." 

You were lounged on the sofa watching TV while he was plopped right next to you. He's switched his blindfold for his glasses. 

"Oh," you say when it clicks, "and since I block people's abilities you..." 

"Yup! Can't see you at all!" Gojo happily fills in. "It doesn't help that you're so quiet. Maybe I should put a bell on you." 

You laugh, but it doesn't sound like he was joking. 

"What's it like?" You ask, turning to him, "Seeing the way, you see? What-what do you see?"

"Everything." Gojo shrugs. 

You frown. "That's not very descriptive." 

He laughs. "Here, wanna try?" He takes off his glasses, handing them over. "These things are real popular with the ladies." 

He's avoiding the question, but you don't bother chasing him for it. Instead, you grab the lenses, pulling them over your eyes. You expect to see the secrets of the universe. Instead, you see nothing but darkness. Though, that might be the point.  

"Everything, hm?" You ask, when you take them off. "That sounds exhausting." 

He takes them back with a grin. "It is! My eyes hurt so so much! You should pity me and make matcha tiramisu." 

You laugh, drawing back. "That's what this is about? To guilt trip me into making dessert for you?" 

"Did it work?" 

You think for a moment.

"Get me the ingredients, and I'll see." 

He cheers but doesn't fully answer your question until the episode ends when you've bid him goodnight and are about to return to the bedroom. 

"You're blurry from far away." 

When you look at him, his glasses are gone, tucked under his collar. It's night, but the sky still stares down at you. His usual smile is gone, stretched into a line you can't place. 

"I can see down to molecules, atoms. Not you." 

You look at him, his eyes. The beautiful curse they are. 

You force yourself to take the first step. Then another. Then another. When you're right in front of him, when he's towering over you, you open to your mouth. 

"What do you see, Gojo?" 

"Everything." He honestly replies. 

Everything. Not just cursed energy. Down to cells, molecules, atoms. You can't fathom how much that is, the essence of everything. What's that like? Being able to see the universe so much that it hurts? So much so that it makes him want to wear a blindfold and never see anything again. 

But you're blurry. Gojo can't see you the way he sees others. 

You reach your hands up slowly like you're approaching a wild animal. In some ways, maybe that's what Gojo is: unpredictable, able to wield the power of space—power that's useless against you. 

You cover his eyes. He doesn't stop you. 

"What do you see, Satoru?" 

He doesn't speak, and you're afraid he's forgotten how. 

"Nothing." Quiet, barely more than a whisper.

He slouches ever so slightly, leaning into your hands like some weight's been lifted. It makes you smile. 

When you try to pull your hands away, his wrap around your wrist, keeping you there. So you stay—for as long as he wants. 

It starts something of a tradition between the two of you. Not every night, not even most nights, but every so often, Satoru would grow quiet, shift in a particular way. You hoped it was therapeutic for him, a break rather than a glimpse of what could have been. You hoped you were helping. 

And, if you were torturing him, hopefully, you won't be for long. 

"How much longer do you think I have to do this?" You ask. 

He hums, clearly not paying attention. You two were in the kitchen, making some sweet he saw trending on the internet. Well, you were doing all the work. Satoru kept trying to steal the batter. 

"You know. Sleeping under your roof, eating all your food, stealing you bed." You urge, while whisking. 

"You're acting like I've been keeping you in the attic, roomie." Satoru pouts. "C'mon, I haven't been that bad, have I?" 

"I'm asking for your sake rather than mine," you tell him. "I'm sure you'll be thrilled to have your house back, and your bed. When will everything settle down?" 

His blindfold is on, as it usually is. To help him out, you've taken to wearing squeaky slippers around the house. He'd offered to buy you one of those cat collars with bells. You declined. 

He's looking in your direction. You know he can't see you, but you can still feel his eyes on you. It's a strange feeling. 

"There's talks of taking down the bounty," Satoru finally says, losing his playful tone, "just rumors, nothing concrete. Worst comes to worst, we'll have to relocate you somewhere overseas." 

Yeah, you were worried about that. Leaving everything behind, your home, your friends, your family, because your life was in danger. You hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. 

"We have a couple of options, though," Satoru says, "negotiations, for one." 

You perk up at that. "Negotiations?" You ask. 

He nods. "Right now, you're under my protection. Unofficially. I could pull some strings, get those old geezers at the academy to take you in as some special assistant." 

You tilt your head. "Like at the school that you teach, right?" 

He nods. "We have a case like yours attending the school, too. I think you and him would get along." 

"Your ability could be pretty useful to us. You might even get out in the field every so often." Satoru continues. "A special technique like that would be wasted down here." 

Special. He's said that before. You can't remember when, but you know he's right. You're an anomaly, but you can use your abilities for good. But could you really do that? Risk your life every day? Lose pieces of yourself like that?

"I don't really feel special," you say, "I don't want to be special either." You glance at him. "Is that a bad thing?" 

Even blindfolded, somehow, his eyes find yours. 

"No," he says, no judgment in his voice, "it just makes you human." 

Relief. You can feel it sinking through your veins. Part of you feels guilty. Satoru is right; you could do a lot. But you...you don't want to end up like him. 

That makes you feel even worse, but then you catch something in his tone. 

"You sound like you're not very human," you say back. You're teasing, but it falls flat. 

He hums. It's not quite the response you were looking for. It takes a second for him to start up again. 

"When I was younger, people used to call me creepy." 

You stare at him. 

"What?." 

He grins, but it's not his usual one. 

"It's true." He shrugs. "Mostly, it was 'cause of my eyes. They called them unnerving. Monstrous. My folks were always a creative bunch." He says it so casually, but you can hear the bite on his voice. It's phrased as a joke, but it isn't.

You put down your whisk, giving him your full attention. 

"That's not true," you respond, "you know that, right? You aren't a monster. Monsters aren't as kind as you are." 

"Oh?" He tilts his head. "Maybe I'm using my kindness as a lure to trap you. Guess you just fell for it, roomie. 'thought you were smarter than that." You roll your eyes. 

"Okay, fine, I yield. You're a monster. But out of all the monsters in the world, I'd pick you." 

For a moment, there's silence in the kitchen. Then- 

"So cheesy!" Satoru laughs. He reaches over, roughly pinching your cheek. "Who knew you could say such cute things, roomie." 

You slap his hands away, now extremely annoyed. 

"Nevermind. I take it back," you retort. "I'd run away as far as I could from you." 

"Good, you should," he replies. "I won't stop you." 

You scoff. 

"Maybe that's why everyone thought you were creepy." You go back to your whisking. "It's not your eyes, you just say a lot of ominous shit." 

Despite how peaceful it is, making desert, cooking, and acting domestic, it can't last forever. The world was still hunting for you, and it had no problems reminding you of that. 

One night, you wake up to the sounds of hushed talking. 

It's coming from the living room. Multiple voices. Quiet but urgent. You're used to the noise. Satoru has this habit of blasting terrible soap operas at 2 am. You don't think that man sleeps. Over time, you've gotten used to at least one disturbance. 

But this feels different. It's enough to rub the sleep out of your eyes, making you pad over to the hall. 

They hear you before they see you. Satoru's apartment has creaky floorboards. Ijichi tugs on the collar of his shirt nervously. Ieiri just looks away. Satoru is leaning back against the couch, legs crossed. He's frowning. That's how you know something isn't right. 

"Is everything okay?" You ask anyway. 

Ijichi gives a tight grin. 

"Everything's fine." He's quick to console. "We-we were just-" 

"Stop." Satoru immediately cuts in. He's wearing his blindfold. You can't tell what he's thinking. 

"We're not hiding it. Everyone involved should know." 

Ijichi deflates. You think Ieiri sneers. 

Satoru beckons you closer with long fingers. You step forward. They're sitting around a computer. You peek at the screen.

Instantly, you wish you hadn't. 

There were pictures of you. Dead. Your body parts were strewn across the floor. Your hands were broken in every other way. Your legs were in pieces. Your head snapped clean off, blood oozing from your appendages like you were just a packet of liquid. One of your eyes was missing from its socket. The other was crushed. But it wasn't you, it was- 

"Miyashiro. At least, what's left of him." Satoru gives.  

The doppelganger, the guy who was covering for you. He was supposed to be one of their best; what happened to him? 

What was going to happen to you? 

They're talking again. At least, you think they are. Their words are muffled, filtered through water. You can't make out what anyone is saying. Your heart's beating too fast. It's pounding through your ears. You can only stare at the picture, what was left of him. Someone's touching you. A hand on your back. 

"Roomie, hey," Satoru's voice comes.

The pounding stops. You look up at him. 

Angelic. It's the only word you could think of. His snow-white hair was pretty, falling elegantly down his face. He'd taken his blindfold off. Blue eyes, sparkling, cleansing. Purifying, like the Ganges river. 

How could anyone think a beautiful sight like this was monstrous? 

He calls your name, your real name, and you break. 

You cling to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. And you're sobbing, tears of everything flowing down your face. 

Hands, hesitant, unsure, rest on your back. And then Satoru's holding you as tightly as he can.

He's warm. It's all you can think as you shake in his hold. 

He's warm. 

"I won't have to worry about that if I just gave in, hm?" You ask. 

It was a couple of days later from your episode. Satoru had convinced you to give one of his soap operas a shot. On-screen, a woman slapped her cheating husband. 

Satoru was lounging beside you, feet propped up on the coffee table. You want to tell him off, but it's his house. 

"If you went to the school, you mean?" He asks. "Probably. You'd be a lot freer. Won't have to sit in a cramped apartment all day. 'sides, jujutsu tech is always on the lookout for fresh talent. The higher-ups would be ecstatic to have someone like you under their thumb." 

"But I'd have to become a sorcerer." You say the unspoken. 

Gojo nods. "Yeah, you would." 

And you don't want that. To face curses, to face death every day. You know you can't handle that. You aren't strong, like Satoru. 

"I'm sorry," you say. 

He laughs. "For what?" 

You shrug as the on-screen couple makes up again. "For being...a coward, I guess."

He thinks for a moment. 

"It's not about bravery," he says in the end, "being a sorcerer is just...that. A sorcerer. It's a job. A title. Only a special few can do it. The crazy ones." 

His tone gets a bit playful. 

"No offense, roomie, but I don't think you got enough crazy in you." 

"That's a compliment, actually." You correct. He ignores you. 

"'sides, I like you staying here." Satoru declares, stretching his arms out on the couch. "Who'd feed me? It'd be horrible to go back to ramen again." 

You roll your eyes. "Right. Who else will wake at 2 am because of your whining to make wagashi?" 

"See! You get it!" Satoru grins. You can't force the smile off your face. 

The husband's mistress has entered the set. The wife is confident that her husband will choose her. She's left heartbroken all over again. You don't get how she couldn't see it. The red flags were all there, and still, she was left blindsided. Never saw it coming. She trusts too easily, you decided. 

"Also, I like having you here," Satoru says. 

You glance at him. He's watching the screen. 

"It's...nice." He admits after a bit. "To have company like this. It reminds me of back when I was younger. When the two of us lived in the dorms." 

When he was a student? Who was he talking about? You don't pry. It's clear he isn't talking to you. 

"I'm glad you're here," Satoru says. 

Lightly, you bump shoulders with him. Infinity doesn't stop you. 

"You're a sweet monster." You tell him. 

He gives a secret grin. 

Every once in a while, Gojo peeks into the bedroom while you're sleeping. 

He's subtle about it, doesn't make too much noise. You're a light sleeper, so it takes little to nothing to wake you up. 

He doesn't do anything. He stands there, shuffles here and there, hovering by the foot of the bed. You just pretend to be asleep in those cases, evening out your breaths, closing your eyes. It's always the same. He loiters around for a minute, and then he's shutting the door behind him. 

It's strange, but you try not to think too much of it. He was probably looking for something. It's his room after all. 

It's just...strange. 

You find it when you're looking through his book shelf. 

He doesn't have anything interesting to read. It's mainly just historical novels. You're perusing through one before a photograph falls out of the pages. 

It's tiny, barely larger than your palm. It only takes a second to realize what you're looking at. 

"Found your baby pictures." You gleefully tell Satoru when he comes back. 

"What?" He tilts his head; you wave the photo in front of him. When he tries to take it, you pull back. 

"Tiny Satoru!" You squeal. "Who knew you were once so small? I always thought you were born six feet over." 

It's a simple photograph, a little aged, but still clear. Satoru looks about eight, standing between a man and a woman. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. He isn't wearing sunglasses or a blindfold. Doll-like blue eyes. You don't feel like you're looking at a child. He's too-

"Are those your parents?" You ask, letting him take the photograph from you. 

"No," he says, "my caretakers." 

Caretakers. Not nannies, or anything else. It felt so clinical. You lean against his shoulder, still staring at the photograph. 

"You look cute." You finally say. When you peak over, a hint of a smile is twitching on his face. "But I totally agree with everyone. You look creepy. Like one of those children from the exorcist. Climbing over the walls." 

"I never grew out of that phase." Satoru ponders. You laugh. 

"What was it like?" You ask. "You said you're from a clan, right?" 

"Exhausting." Satoru groans. "Never a break from training. I should go back and sue my folks for child abuse. I could get millions." 

"I could help you with that." You pipe in. "I've never gone to law school, but I feel like I'd make a great lawyer." 

"I'll keep that in mind." He promises teasingly before his smile fades. 

"But that's the norm for most kids in jujutsu." He sighs. "Gotta' be perfect. Gotta' be the best, right from the beginning. There's a student I know who had a rough start, but she's the best in her class. Her clan didn't care about her potential. Those kids are all scary talented, they just need a bit of nurturing, that's all." 

You stare at him. He catches you. 

"What?" He asks, before his eyes widen. "Do I have a pimple?" 

You shake your head. "For some reason, I feel like that's impossible for you." You tease.

"I'm just admiring you, I think. For being such a kind person." 

"I thought we agreed I was a monster." Satoru points out. 

This again. You roll your eyes. 

"Fine, a good monster." You correct. "A monster, I know." 

"The monster you know." He repeats

You want to ask him why he's so insistent on that. For some reason, you hold your voice. 

Satoru's apartment had two bathrooms. Lately, the one in the bedroom has had some issues. 

It's been awkward lately trying to share the only working bathroom. Satoru and you shower at around the same time, so you've opted to hold back your morning routine a little later. You still manage to catch each other. The amount of times you've accidentally caught him walking around with nothing but a towel around his waist would be too mortifying to admit. 

But, so far, it's working. And you can't complain since you at least have one working bathroom. It's the little things. 

Tonight, you wake up to your bladder urging you to move. And yet, your body still wants to sleep. You check the time. It's nearly 2 in the morning.

It takes a while to pull yourself up, unraveling yourself from the covers before you're trudging out the bedroom. Satoru's apartment is so dark. It's a completely different look compared to daytime. You feel your way with the walls, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. When you peek over at the living room, Satoru isn't there. He must not be coming home tonight. 

The bathroom is shut, but there's a sliver of light bleeding under the door. Fuck, you did not shut the lights off last time. You need to be less careless. 

At first, you think Satoru's hurt. 

He looks hurt. He's hunched over, shaking shoulders, harsh breathing. You can only see his back, but he looks like he's in agony. You're about to step forward, ask what happened, and then you catch a glimpse of what he's clutching. 

Pretty, blue, laced panties. 

Your panties. 

And you're close enough to hear his voice whispering your name. Over and over again. 

"Fuck, fuck, baby, need you, just lemme-just lemme, all mine, all mine-"

He doubles over, tightening his grip on the edge of the sink. Your panties are damp. 

You flinch, and in your moment of panic, you step back. Creaky floorboards. 

Satoru looks up in the mirror. You don't move. 

He takes his time. Placing his phone down. Adjusting his pants, washing his hands. You can only stand there, frozen. Staring. Staring until he's in front of you, looking right back. 

You might have forgiven him if he had fumbled, laughed it off, became bashful. A human reaction. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. His eyes mirror that photograph. Doll-like, absolutely empty. 

Monstrous. 

Your eyes water. He turns blurry for a second. 

Satoru steps aside. You wordlessly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't bother locking. 

You don't know how long you stay there, quiet, shaking, your mind trying to piece together what you just saw. You stay there for hours. You stay there for seconds. Time stretches on like infinity itself, yet even then, it's too short. 

You're alone with him. It's a thought you never even had until now. You're alone with him. 

Satoru is outside. You don't look at him, staring at the floor, looking at the carpet, counting each strand. You keep your head down when you return to the bedroom. 

He follows. You say nothing. You don't look. You don't look, even when the covers shift and he gets into bed behind you. You don't look, even when there's a hand on your shoulder. You don't look, even when there's a chest pressed against your back. 

You shiver, you shake. You don't look. He says nothing, even when you break down completely. 

You wake up alone the next morning. 

You don't waste a second. You're stumbling through the room, picking up your clothes, packing everything that you need. You're so panicked that you manage to knock over an alarm clock. 

It's habit to reach down and pick it up. Learned politeness to scrutinize it to make sure it isn't broken. 

A black dot stares back at you. 

A camera. 

Horrible memories of last night come back. He was watching something on his phone. 

You feel nauseous, about to give all over the floor. You need to go. You needed to get out of there. 

The apartment is silent, like it always is when Satoru isn't here. You just hadn't noticed how cold it was, lifeless. It makes the pit on your stomach gap. You expect the windows to be bolted shut. They aren't. Sunlight streams through the glass. The front door is unbarred too. 

It's easy to leave. 

You stop anyway. One question. 

Where would you go? 

You can't go back home. Miyashiro's body still haunts you. His soul in your body, torn apart with such hatred and vitriol. Those people were still looking for you. The only reason you were still alive was because Miyashiro took your death bed. 

You'd die if you went back home. 

You can't go to jujutsu tech. You'd be expected to lay down your life, serve a maskless force that pretended to do good. You'd certainly die. Ripped apart by curses. 

You'd be slaughtered if you went to the school.

Every route is treacherous, nearly impossible, full of dangers and unknowns. 

At least, you know what Satoru wants. 

He's made it clear since the beginning. You were just willfully ignorant. Oblivious on purpose. More than happy to ignore the red flags because you knew he was a kind person to his students, ignoring the dichotomy of his actions. 

Two things can be right at once. 

Satoru won't stop you if you run. He told you that himself. You could leave if you wanted, and he won't follow. But every other path is filled with an intangible value, and Satoru is the monster you know. 

Your hand falls away from the doorknob. 

You get started on dinner.

You're still there when Satoru comes back. You say nothing. Neither does he. Dinner is a quiet affair. He doesn't talk about his day, he doesn't talk about his students. When you wash the plates, he's quietly standing behind you. When you get out of the shower, he's waiting outside the bathroom. 

You can't bring yourself to look at him until you get into bed. Your eyes trail up, past his legs, his shoulders, his neck. Looking into Satoru's crystal blue eyes. 

Blank. Numb. Empty. 

You think of the cameras. You think of your stolen underwear. 

You think of how much his eyes must hurt right then. 

You raise one hand out, grasping the sleeve of his shirt. It's barely a tug, but the monster follows like he's weightless, crawling into bed. He's too big to hold properly, but he sinks into your body anyway. His forehead rests against your chest. His eyes close. You don't feel that ice anymore. 

“What do you see, Satoru?” 

“Nothing.” A pause. A stilted breath. 

“Nothing but you.” 

He was right in the end. Satoru is a monster. There's no other word that can describe him. Inhuman, far above humanity itself. But he's the monster you'd pick, every single time.

Fly on the Wall

PAIRING: yan!timeskip!Sakusa Kiyoomi x fem!reader

GENRE: smut | dark content (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: yandere themes, noncon, stalking, somnophilia, semi-public masturbation (m), nipple play, fingering (with leather gloves), dacryphilia, cum eating, creampie, size kink, breaking and entering, panty stealing, basically Sakusa is a perv

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 8.7k

SUMMARY: The new Black Jackal’s manager catches Sakusa’s eye. Unfortunately, whatever distance, physical or otherwise, is between you two, is too far for his liking. All characters are 18+

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Not meant to be a Christmas gift, but my timing does wonders, I guess :/

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

The Black Jackals getting a manager didn’t excite him the way it did his teammates. The idea itself didn’t bring him dread, of course, but the knowledge that certain players may get distracted–or worse: rowdier–brought more stress to him than he’d appreciate. 

Bokuto and Hinata were already babbling on to each other about what you might be like, reminiscing their high school days when they both had two managers on their respective teams. Atsumu joined in, whining that Inarizaki wasn’t as lucky to have a girl manager, let alone two attractive ones. He also bet that you’d be cute—Sakusa could only roll his eyes at the exchange.

Keep reading

Bitch, you cappin' and you big mad

I'm just fuckin' trappin', gettin' cat girls and some big bands

— Midline —

Piercer!Tendou // Fem!Reader

Warnings: tongue piercing, bad piercer practices, slight blood mentions, alcohol, and dubcon probably...

Word Count: 1140

Summary: you go to a party thrown by tendou and get a free piercing...sadly no smut in this part oops

a/n: this is only part one...say thanks to @kamoniwa for inspiring this and giving me ideas for more parts....

“I'm just fuckin' trappin', gettin' cat girls and some big bands,” the music was blasting loud enough for you to hear outside.

Each lyric rattling the windows as the bass reverberated down your spine, the air smelt of cheap booze and cigarettes, it was as familiar as any other college party your friends dragged you along too.

The only difference was that it wasn’t a college party, you and your friends had been invited by some volleyball players at your college, mentioning someone named Tendou offering free piercings to anyone who brought alcohol.

You and your friends thought it was too good to be true, nevertheless, here you were showing up with a bottle of everclear in clutch as you made your way inside.

The music only got louder as you got inside, making it nearly impossible to think as someone pointed you and your friends to the drinks.

That’s when you saw him, a room off to the side of the kitchen with a few people gathered inside, shaved red hair catching your eyes as his piercings glinted different colors in the changing strobe lights

You found yourself curious, hovering around the room before getting separated from your friends and going inside.

He was much more attractive up close, lithe fingers working quickly to pierce the person in front of him, someone you recognized as Goshiki as his friends chuckled around him and teased him.

You’d had a few shots with your friends and they were quickly catching up to you as you tried to ignore the way your stomach turned flips the longer you watched him push the needle through Goshiki’s nipple.

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as an ache creeped it’s way into your chest at the thought of his fingers against your own nipples, the pinch of the clamp as the cool metal heats up against your body heat until the needle starts to go in and—

“Princess~”

The mocking tone dragged you out of your thoughts as your eyes met Tendou’s, a smirk playing on his lips as he waved his hand at you.

“Are you next?”

You gave him a sharp nod as you felt the heat rising to your cheeks, you knew you were caught the moment he motioned for you to sit down with a dark chuckle.

“Gettin’ your nipples pierced too then?”

“N-no,” you choked on your words as you stared at him wide eyed, you felt like a deer caught in headlights as you noticed the blown out look in his eyes.

“That’s a shame I’m sure they’d look cute on you,” the way his eyes traveled over your body with each word before hesitating on your chest had a shiver wracking through you.

“What’re you gettin’ then,” his eyes still lingered on your chest as each word reverberated with the music’s bass.

“I— uhmm—“ you hadn’t thought this far ahead before you sat down, even if you had the way his eyes were consuming you would have made you forget as you struggled to remember how to speak.

There was a deep chuckle from him as he licked his lips at the way you were squirming underneath his gaze.

You’d caught a quick glimpse of something on his tongue and finally remembered a coherent word as you pointed at his mouth.

“That,” the way he cocked his brow at your words had a coil tightening in your stomach as a devious little smirk played on his lips.

“You mean this?”

He opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out for you to see, the once hidden piercing now on full display for you as you tried to nod in response, your mind choking on the thought of how his tongue would feel between your thighs.

You tried to shake the thought from your mind as he prepped the small space, pulling out a fresh needle, piercing, and changing his gloves.

There was a nervousness budding back inside you at the sound of latex snapping against his hand, you suddenly felt sober yet intoxicated all at once as your mind went numb.

“W-what about the clamp?”

He chuckled at the nervous sound in your voice, “what do you mean?”

“Ahh a-are you going to use it?”

His laughter was even louder this time as his gloved thumb swiped over your bottom lip.

“Nah, it’s not sanitary anymore, plus it’ll hurt more so just sit real still and quiet for me princess.”

Before you could protest he had his fingers in your mouth, forcing it open as he shoved his fingers further and further back until you were gagging around them.

The taste of latex was strong as tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, he gave you an apologetic smile but it didn’t quite meet his eyes as he watched you.

He pulled them back slowly, running them along the flat of your tongue before he had his thumb pressed under it and his forefinger holding it in place by the tip.

“This’ll hurt just a tiny bit.”

You could see the needle glint in the light and your first thought was to squeeze your eyes closed but you didn’t, you were too enthralled with the way the veins in his hands flexed with every movement of his fingers until the needle was piercing straight through your tongue.

There was a sharp pinch of pain enveloping your sense as you let out a strangled yelp, tears overflowing as you squeezed your eyes tightly shut and the taste of copper overpowered the taste of latex.

He was quick as he replaced the needle with your new piercing, a gloved hand coming up to stroke away tears on your cheek as you opened your eyes to look at him.

“All good princess?”

You nodded at him as you tried to ignore the throb in your tongue and the even more prevalent throb in your little wet cunt.

“Then up we go,” he helped you stand up before he let you sit in a chair beside him, leaning next to your ear as he began to whisper.

“I still think you’d be cute with those nipple piercings, if you give me your number later I’ll drop by your house, however, a home visit will cost you something extra.”

The last part held a dark tone in it that sent goosebumps crawling up your spine as he sat back down and turned to the next person waiting to be pierced.

He’d pulled out all the same tools as before, however, this time he pulled out an antiseptic and the clamps as he cleaned them off with a chuckle.

Despite the way your brain screamed to tell him off or to get up and leave you sat there wide eyed and lip quivering as your new piercing kept you silent.