Deceiving The Duke | Master List

like the sun.

pairing: gojo satoru + reader

summary: satoru’s presence reminds you of the sun. like helios, the sun god, you attributed.

warnings: kind of enemies to lovers? reader is a year older than gojo, angst (my fav :3), little cameo from geto. gojo is (secretly) so down bad, mention of violence, blood, and anything of those sorts. also set before geto’s defection.

word count: 7.2k

a/n: i am back from my writing slump! i was (very) burnt out from my last fic, but i think my spark is back :) i’ve mentioned this kind of plot once or twice before, so i NEEDEDDD to write it out to satisfy my head <333 hope you lovelies enjoy!

i. blaze.

there’s a peculiar thing about heat.

summer sun is nearly unbearable, and yet you’re tempted to stay under it’s scorching glare longer. an enigma, because, in all honestly, your body felt like it could give out in any moment. the white cotton shirt was rather suffocating. it’s too close to skin, battling the weather for a more overwhelming presence. unnatural and stiff, arms raise, and it’s only with the most futile attempt that you stretch out sore limbs while simultaneously trying to catch your breath.

slight relief is given with small gusts of refreshing wind. limited by it’s lack of strength, but it does it’s purpose in cooling you off. morning training was preferable. it was less brutal — and more importantly, it saved you the trouble of having to spar with an immortal. he never woke up early enough.

an immortal, jokingly, because you’ve never been able to land a meaningful hit on him.

“where’d you get that?”

your arms pause, stilling from their position above your head. he’d granted you a small break. ‘generously,’ as he had put it. after two hours of exerting yourself, you’d grown to become indifferent to the absence of fatigue on his face.

a finger is pointed towards your side, eyes blue and curious, gaze almost as blunt as his tone. the slightest exposure of skin is shown, shirt lifted from your previous movements, and his eyes remained fixed upon you. expression unreadable, a smile oddly lacking. it makes you a little self-conscious, and you reach to pull the fabric back down.

“scar.” you dryly answer, resorting to turning away, contorting your back to hear a small ‘crack!’

blue still penetrates you. it watches, carefully.

“looked pretty big.”

you bite your cheek, sparing him a side glance.

“it’s old.”

he doesn’t miss a beat. he never really does.

“how old?”

a small huff escapes your dehydrated lips, and your brows furrow.

“got it last year.”

before you knew him, to be clearer. you’d elaborate, make it known, but your chest stings of exhaustion, and the sun is, again, too hot.

truthfully, your response fails to provide satoru with satisfaction, and you can tell that he’s got a few more questions (or a million) to ask. but he keeps his mouth shut, and nods in simple understanding. you only watch as he straightens his posture, and a smile — notably, grazing his lips with some strange hesitation — shows up once more.

“break’s over.”

•••

you’re introduced to gojo satoru during your second year at jujustu high. it was like a chunk of the literal sun (something you’d reiterated was so distasteful and unpleasant to be under, yet strangely captivating) had been taken and left on earth, blazing with desire, and legitimately brighter than everything else around it. like helios, you attributed. a sun god.

an anomaly in your vision, only a few doors down from you.

he was unbearable.

if arrogance could conjure itself into a person — if all the annoyance in the world could simultaneously join at once — it’d create him. the product of too many bad things.

and of course, you’d expected his arrival. it felt like the only subject of your entire first year — the legend, the “honored” one. for him to attend your school grounds the following semester, and to truly give the universe a glimpse into his true power.

because what was he really capable of?

“again, too slow.”

you’d come to accept an unfortunate feat of failure.

swept off your feet by nothing but air (and a forceful kick), gravity pulls you back down, and you hiss as your back hits the floor. your head almost collides with it, but a nudge to your side reminds you to keep it lifted. in retrospect, it’s thoughtful, but you nearly glare.

you can feel where you’ll be sore tomorrow. it stings just a little too much for comfort, and your teeth clamp down on your bottom lip to suppress the ache.

a body so regularly bruised, you’re surprised the injuries themselves haven’t come to life and begged you to stop moving.

satoru stands above you, a white collared long-sleeve accentuating his pale features. linen, almost. it’s a bit see-through, and it shines nicely through the rays behind him. his darkly tinted glasses rest upon his face. they sit a little below his nose.

blue peeks out.

“god, yaga wasn’t kidding.”

he sounds almost bored. with the privilege of being so careless, so relaxed and expectant, he raises a brow at your silence and nudges you once more.

it’s quietly humiliating. a cycle that continues, until you’ve had enough and choose to end the embarrassment. satoru’s pliant, always awaiting your call. because, simply, he can do that.

slowly, you blink, looking up to meet his partially covered eyes.

they used to scare you. not from intimidation or general nerves, but because they were vibrant. deeper than ocean’s water, a shade unlike anything humane. it puts a greater boarder in between the two of you. a stronger picket fence.

you know that if you ask, you won’t like the answer. but the pitying, mocking smile satoru has is getting under your skin, so you breathe a small, “what?”

satoru’s smug.

you watch as he whistles and looks off to the side, temporarily ignoring you.

and then, he shrugs nonchalantly.

“nothing.”

your eyes narrow. you can feel your annoyance bubbling, and it threatens to tip over, but you shake your head in retaliation.

“okay.”

it’s a trap, you know it’s a trap, because satoru’s head perks up, and he looks at you questionably.

“you don’t want to know?”

your eyes roll, so severely you momentarily feel a little twinge of pain.

“no, i’m good.”

and you ignore his out-reached hand, getting off the floor by yourself.

you’re tired.

it’s well past noon. another afternoon of seemingly pointless training because suguru and shoko had been out on a mission, leaving you alone once more with the embodiment of your nightmares.

you were tempted to complain to yaga, but knowing his twisted ways of teaching, it’d probably only land you more time with him.

unfair.

“not even a little curious?”

ignoring him was difficult. you’ve become too accustomed with sarcasm, and it’s sickly rewarding to see his face fall to pieces, because he’s everything and perfect. infuriatingly so.

“no, leave me alone.” your voice holds some annoyance now, and you’re still hearing his footsteps behind yours as you make your way inside the dormitories.

it’s like clockwork. so expected, you can’t find it in you to tell satoru to actually leave.

he’s never listened to you anyways.

upon reaching your door, you slowly let yourself in, and are unable to act surprised when you fail to hear it shut behind you. you can already picture the sight of his foot nudged in between the crack. you pay no mind, placing your weapon against the wall, and are forced to take a seat at your desk because of the unwelcomed guest who, suddenly, lays on your bed. like usual. peering up at you, a boyish smile illuminating such delicate features.

“what’s on today’s agenda?”

he speaks like that pretty often.

insinuating a we, us, our — as if the two of you are halves that make a whole, and are practically inseparable despite your clear discomfort. unwillingness, too.

“i,” you emphasize, glancing at him. “am going out.”

he’s pouting, you know before you even look at him again.

“where?”

you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, sighing softly. he’s like a baby duckling.

“i have a meeting with yaga, but he’s stuck at kyoto right now. i’m seeing him there.”

you watch as satoru’s head pokes up. for a sliver of time, he looks a little unsure, which is unlike his normal self, who speaks absentmindedly. and for that solid reason, you get the slightest ounce of concern. but you mask it, because heaven and earth both know the burden of his awareness.

“can’t be super important.”

your brow raises, and you scoff softly.

“not sure yet.”

silence seems to bother satoru, you’ve learned. he enjoys speaking, generally taking up time that isn’t righteously his. it’s a habit, one clearly too strong to break. entitlement.

but he speaks because he loves the interaction.

(specifically, he loves talking to you.)

and satoru isn’t stupid — he’s far from it. he’s able to read you well enough to know that he’s slightly wounded you. not too far from offense, though he’s able to see how fidgety you get as a result. he needs to learn how to shut up.

“i noticed you were slower today.”

spoken plainly. and you’re not looking at him when he says it, unable to spot the way he swallows thickly afterwards.

words spew out. there’s not much to talk about, you reason. you repeat that a million times in your head, only opening your mouth to respond when you’re sure it won’t be mean. too rash, and you’re positive the conversation would go a different way.

you shrug, looking at the floor.

“i was tired.”

it feels like the wrong to say. and satoru quickly proves your gut right.

“you’re always tired.”

his bluntness is weirdly shocking, which is the only reason why a small laugh escapes your lips. for a moment, you’re not sure how else to respond — what a sensible response would sound like. but you’re used to his antics, and it’s only a further reminder to keep your composure.

“well, you’re not exactly easy competition.”

you’re speaking lightheartedly, a bit of humor hidden in your voice. and though you feel rather pitiful to be using his abilities as an excuse, you tell yourself it’s a genuine reason.

but satoru is aware. he’s more than aware. he breathes the fact like air itself, because it’s been shoved down his throat since before he’s been able to even understand it.

he’s aware.

“but you’re not trying, either.”

at that, your body stills.

satoru isn’t smiling with you. and he’s not teasing, you finally realize. he’s being serious. but satoru has never been mean. he’s conceited, yes, but mean? you wouldn’t count his teasing as it, and he’s never gone farther than repetitive little jokes.

“what?” and you suppose you’re dumbfounded from disbelief, because your throat feels a little dry, and the forced smile on your face falls slightly. it twinges, unsure of how to read the situation.

“you’re not trying, i said.”

“no, no, i heard you.” you wave a hand, words quiet as you cough awkwardly. “i just… wasn’t expecting that.”

you feel a little dramatic. the tips of your ears burn, and embarrassment lingers across your skin. the floor is suddenly the most interesting thing in the room, and you wonder if he’s aware of the heightened effect those words sound coming from him. you’re uncomfortable.

“someone had to tell you eventually.” and this time satoru is the one who shrugs, peacefully laying back against your pillows as if he’d done something dutiful — like he was worthy of some sort of praise. “it’s noticeable.”

he’s never managed to leave you at a loss words. you’re normally quick with rebuttals, regularly despising the thought of him thinking he’s escaped bickering with you as a victor.

so your silence feels daunting, and you’re both equally as aware of it’s significance.

satoru jumps over your picket fence sometimes. as if breaking a fourth wall into your mind, and latching on to something more sour and unkept. he brings out emotions that are more real, and his honesty bruises your insides until they feel as sore as your own physical body. it’s daunting, and another testament of his uniqueness.

“thanks.” you finally mutter, awkwardly looking to the side to avoid his overall perception. “i’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

satoru is like a brick wall. or, realistically, just some form of indestructible material. that fact alone should push you towards improvement. it should be a motivator. but when you train alongside him (albeit, rarely), you’re reminded of your naiveness from a mere year ago.

expectations should be kept low at all costs. it makes disappointment easier. jujustu brought upon the worst scenarios, and you’ve slowly learned to not grow attachments, or be too positive. because that’s what truly kills.

but, satoru. meeting satoru was like a fresh breath of air. everything about him was true, and even then he superseded his initial description. he’s more careless with his desires, nonchalant about limits. indulging in advice wasn’t him. he simply didn’t do it, taking his own word against others.

the dorm bed creaks, and you watch as he leisurely stands up, casual and quiet.

“well, just so you know,” his fingers tap against the door frame, and he lets himself back in, just by a tiny bit.

he pauses. hesitant again.

but this time, his voice comes out a bit louder. confidence declared. and you’re unaware that the tone is somewhat forced.

“yaga said you’re pretty weak. told me and suguru to go easy on you while sparing.”

the door shuts behind him.

•••

ii. taunt.

during the first week of your third year, a mission is assigned to you by jujustu tech.

well — not assigned, per say, but dutifully given.

by your compliance, and your raised hand in yaga’s office.

“i’ll take it.”

it’s immediate, and you ignore the stares from around the room. you don’t falter, looking to yaga expectantly. he’s a stern man. difficult to read, but easy to understand. he acts with logic, and is genuinely a respectable teacher at heart.

and yet you figure that he’s some form of evil, because he looks up from his paperwork, and replies with, “satoru will accompany you.”

as if he didn’t need to think twice, and the sound of your voice was enough to cement the decision.

your eyes narrow distastefully, though you don’t verbalize your exasperation. the subject of the matter is beside you, and you can feel that he’s watching your expression, but when yaga hands you both individual papers, any words he’s tempted to say die down. you’re sure you’ve made your feelings clear.

it’s another ten minutes of boring, long reminders before all of you are excused, and you’re sure your feet have never been quicker as you attempt to escape the mere vicinity of the room. your shoes click against the floor, and you feel others right behind you. irritatingly familiar.

“woah, woah, woah, slow down!”

an arm throws itself over your shoulders, and it’s difficult to not buckle under the sudden weight, a groan leaving you as you push back slightly.

the past year had only provided him with more confidence, and a stronger need to bother you at all times.

“first mission together!” satoru grins, waving his paper in your face gleefully. the excitement is obviously one-sided, but that seems to only fuel his amusement more.

your eyes shut tightly, and you sigh.

“a…” satoru ignores you, eyes scanning his paper, humming softly before a dramatic gasp leaves his lips. he leans into you a bit more. “grade one! that should be fun.”

and suddenly, his addition makes sense.

in jujustu ranking, you were still considered a grade two sorcerer. satoru soars higher, like he always has, and had surpassed you mere weeks after his initial arrival. expected, but still a little irrationally irritating.

“just leave it to me.” he waves his free hand that’s still over your shoulder. “i’m probably better fit to fight against it anyway.”

you wonder how much trouble you’d get into if you hit him in the face. you’ve thought about it more times than you could count. in present, it’s a near losing battle, and you only relent because he lets go of you at just the right moment.

realistically, it’d be nice of satoru to be more considerate. you disliked the passive aggressive comments, and can’t seem to understand why he’s always made them when you’ve never said or done anything to earn the taunting quips.

it’s his humor, you’ve heard, though it never feels as degrading when it’s directed at someone else.

you’ve tried your hardest to tolerate satoru over the past year, after realizing it was futile to be completely friendly. but you suppose he holds up his own barrier at times. you’re only given the leisure of peeking over, never getting the will to jump across. that’s another skill only he has mastered.

“meet here at nine tomorrow.” he smiles, carefree as he stops in front of you, halting your path. he pays no mind to your raised brow and crossed arms, adjusting his glasses so they sit higher on his face. “then we can leave, and hopefully we’ll be back pretty early.”

confused and still irritated, you shake your head in confusion.

“wouldn’t we be back early if we just… left earlier?”

satoru’s face sours, and a clear glimpse of his adolescent mind shows through when he shakes his head.

“nah.”

you don’t have the energy to argue over how idiotic he sounds, so you nod in agreement, and rub your temples deeply. it would be a long day, you’re sure, but nothing new his antics haven’t already trained you for.

“noon, then.” you mutter, taking one last look at him.

the air feels a little tense.

you nearly bite your tongue, debating on letting some additional comments fly out. but watching his demeanor (the pure nonchalance) frustrates you, and your eyes narrow.

“you know, i could probably take it on too. by myself.”

satoru stills.

it had been bubbling in your head since you’d left yaga’s office. clearly, as satoru notices the lack of regret on your face. it’s spoken like fact.

if it had been utahime beside him, saying those exact words, he thinks he might’ve laughed.

but in your case, it just feels different.

“well,” he pauses, and you know that you’ve truly caught him off-guard. his eyes trail over your face, and he almost expects you to cower a bit. it never comes. he’s shaking his head, shaking his thoughts, and his eyes find your again, voice softer. “it’s a two-person mission. so, tough luck.”

his smile returns. as if uninterrupted, and ’normal.’

satoru has a habit of suppressing his thoughts.

your eyes roll, ignorant to his inner conflict, and you ask — when will he take you seriously?

privileged in every aspect, and not one ounce humble. but really, he could do whatever he pleases. the world can’t stop him.

satoru shines brightly at you, blinding nearly. helios must be jealous.

•••

“he’s a lot to handle.”

it smells like smoke. bothersome to your worsening headache, but the open window is the only thing keeping your senses at bay.

shoko’s a bad influence, you’ve learned. ashes are regularly spotted on school grounds, the culprit being nearly the same every time. but she’d roped another into her habits, so pinning the blame was harder to do.

your eyes follow the cigarette in suguru’s hand as he exhales once more.

“you think?” it comes off as more bitter than sarcastic, and you’re annoyingly aware of the small smile that appears on his face. gray clouds around him momentarily, sculpting sharper eyes as they narrow in amusement.

“what did he tell you?”

you blink, tilting your head in confusion, silently asking for some clarification. suguru’s eyebrows raise, and he snickers.

“he said something to piss you off. what was it?”

you weren’t sure what the impression would be when you knocked on his door an hour ago. you weren’t even sure why you did it.

maybe it was because suguru was easy to talk to. a good listener, most definitely. and though he’s assumably been a cog in your self-depreciation, you can’t bring yourself to be upset at him too.

“um,” you pause. it weirdly bothers you that he’s right. that he’s able to read exactly what’s wrong, because either he knows you or satoru too well, or it’s both.

suguru stares, patiently. and there is no implication on his face that reads a, ‘knew it.’ he just simply awaits your words.

he’s a gentle soul, coaxing out fragile insides.

“well,” you breathe, rubbing your hands over your knees. it was aggravating, the small sense of discomfort you felt while reliving words that really shouldn’t matter as much as they do. it briefly holds your tongue, and you feel silly for making it this big of a deal in your head. suguru isn’t judgemental though, and you know that. it’s the only reason why telling him doesn’t feel like a bad thing.

“he basically said that yaga thinks i’m… weak.”

the silence that takes over the room is a little daunting, and throws away all confidence you had with suguru out the smoke-ridden window.

you wait for a laugh, a grimace — anything. but nothing every really comes. it’s only a huff of acknowledgement.

“ah.”

no surprise, no disdainful reaction. his smile stays intact.

you’d argue that suguru carried more wisdom than you’d ever be able to acquire. beyond his own years, it seemed. it was something about his aura, or just the way he carried himself. strangely, inhumanly graceful.

he looks to you, and there’s a glint in his eye that tells you something is aloof.

“what?” you impatiently ask, brows furrowing. his lack of response had begun to bother you, nerves etching across your bones.

another long puff causes you to turn your face away from him entirely, and you wince as the smell of smoke momentarily intensifies. it escapes out the window (once more) with the added effort of your ushering hands. suguru watches you for a bit, laughing a little, though ultimately sighs with a soft snicker.

“yaga never said that.”

for a second, you think that the lack of clean air has tainted your brain, and that you’ve misheard him.

the information settles in the air for a while. lingering, up until you’ve found a proper way to deal with it.

“seriously?”

the look on your face makes suguru want to laugh again, but he merely nods, sitting a bit straighter in his chair.

“yup.”

you have questions — a majority you know that suguru can’t really answer, so you minimize them into the broadest form, sighing softly, a little defeatedly.

“why would he say that, then?”

suguru hums, lifting a finger to his chin as he shrugs. “he might’ve thought it would push you more.”

your eyes narrow, and you click your tongue in annoyance. “that’s stupid.”

your cheeks warm a little as you register suguru leaning in, a sly smile on his face, his eyes shining with a bit of mischief.

“well, it bothered you, didn’t it?”

now, that felt kinda humiliating to admit. and you’re sure your face gives your thoughts away, so you nod, an easy admission.

“yeah.” you breathe, sighing. “it did.”

what you want to say, is that it bothered you that satoru said it.

his opinion, frustratingly, was something you heavily valued. no matter how many times he’s belittled you, or been generally arrogant. you stupidly seek his sunlight, his approval, and wish to always be under his rays.

“okay.” he raises his brows, staring. “then show him on your mission tomorrow. don’t let him interfere, and kick some ass by yourself.”

your eyes widen, barely, but suguru notices, and purses his lips. in comparison to each other, you’ve always found suguru to be the more sensible one. he prioritized rules, only really breaking them if satoru begged him to.

“you have more experience now.” and he’s unable to hide his wandering eyes as they find the hem of your shirt, as if perfectly picturing the damaged skin underneath. you’d opened up about the scar a few months ago, the first year’s backing you into a corner. satoru had been the most adamant to know. “it’ll be different.”

you don’t give much of an answer, a simple nod conveying your inner-conflict.

suguru watches, your eyes squinting in confusion as you shake your head. you utter your next question, and he has to hide his amusement.

“why does satoru dislike me so much? what did i ever do to him?”

suguru thinks you and satoru are intelligent in your own ways.

and then, at times like these, he believes he’s never met two people so incredibly dense.

silence, and an all-knowing smile is the only answer you receive.

•••

it could be wrong. it is wrong. dangerous, deviant, and stupid.

but despite all these bad thoughts, you’re still quietly shutting the door to your dorm room. meticulously cautious, all in hopes to successfully escape a wrath imaginably worth ten thousand.

suguru didn’t mean this, you’re sure.

it’s immature, you’re aware, to head out on your own. you’re stuck imagining possible outcomes, and all the punishments that await you when you return. and yet once more, you thank the heavens, all gods that can hear, for satoru’s inability to wake up early.

campus is pretty in the early hours. the sun not yet rising, and grounds only illuminated by small scattered lamps. it’s peaceful, quiet from it’s usual bickering of your underclassmen. a moment of tranquility before the storm.

proof is what the world will get. it’s the objective of your heart’s own mission, regardless of whether or not it was a rational thing to do.

(it was most definitely not.)

to be strong is to understand weakness. and you’ll only let your emotions sway you as vulnerable. but you’re equally as aware that might just be your demise.

paper crinkles in your hands.

the report is relatively detailed. a street name is in thick black ink, and it’s hard to miss the red stamp labeling the file, ‘grade one.’

a breeze. ‘fun,’ like satoru had put it.

the mind is fragile. nerves send it in a frenzy, and you suppose affirmations are the only way that you can attempt to keep your heart from racing. it’s guilt, also.

he’s probably still asleep in bed. laid beside pillows that you know are too ridiculously soft, and having a single alarm on his phone because you’re aware that he is generally a light sleeper. but satoru needed to see you differently. a better perception — a kaleidoscope of mystery. because, unfortunately, some hint of acknowledgement from a god keeps mere mortals standing.

it takes almost an hour to finally set your eyes on the street, and when they do, you begin to second-guess your flawed plan.

from exact numbers and location, a warehouse is where you end up. battered, and clearly worn down. a perfect spot for a curse in hiding.

though if satoru was here, he would have laughed.

the cursed energy emitting from the building is unmistakable. it’s strong, and it involuntarily speeds up your already-abnormal heart rate. hiding is plain stupid if it’s energy is that obvious. but it’s also still dark out. you doubt the building even has electricity, though dawn seemed to be rather close. you could hold off until then.

you stand outside for longer than you wish. reality seems to dawn upon you at that moment, and it’s there that you realize you’re truly too stubborn to walk away. you’d go through with it, no matter what would happen now.

and as you’re walking, it feels like your body isn’t controlling itself. there’s a heightened fear striking all your senses, and you’ve completely submitted to instinct, not trusting your mess of thoughts. you pray for a little forgiveness, a little mercy, and head inside.

it’s bare.

with the exception of broken plywood and fallen beams, it’s nearly vacant.

the doors you enter through are flimsy, and whether it be your mind in a frenzy, or an attempt to postpone time for as long as possible, you quickly barricade them with the pieces of discarded wood. at the very least, it’d prevent any chances of normal civilians from entering.

every bit of cursed energy seems to draw you towards the opposite end of the building.

and there’s not much you can do when materialized arrows welcome themselves into your vision, a quick dodge being your eyes’ only savior.

“fuck.” you breathe, swallowing thickly. you’re scared shitless, anxiety hardly alleviated by the close call. a hand rummages to the sheath connected to your waist, and you close your eyes tightly, counting yourself down from initiating your first strike.

“okay, okay, okay.”

your weapon unveils itself.

•••

iii. glory in the sun’s rays.

heavy breaths are the only sound echoing across distant walls.

but besides that,

serenity.

it’s quiet.

like particles, hope sprinkles in, and the curse in front of your eyes disperses — successfully exorsized.

in that moment, you truly believe there is no better sight. nothing that can possibly grant that level of satisfaction.

your mouth tastes a little like metal. it’s bitter, and you suppress a wince, too relieved to really feel an ounce of worry.

there’s broken panels from all around. holes in the walls, gaps in the ceilings, and you wonder how you even managed to reach such high places — especially given the state that you’re in.

and despite your contentment, your body sends itself into a momentary coughing fit.

something stings — it hurts bad, but loud footsteps, running, running, running, echo on the other side of the barricaded doors, and the wooden panels wedged in between the handles are broken, timbered pieces thinly scattered across the floor.

both doors fly open.

it’s a vague sense you have. the ability to feel him.

you’ve learned it well over the past year.

satoru’s cursed energy is unique. it creeps up on you, until there’s a realization that the only thing you can feel is him. situating himself as something important, far more attention-worthy than your own being. it’s suffocating.

you meet each other’s eyes.

he seems to be breathing nearly as heavily as you are. eyes blown out, a hint of something feral in his irises. you’re stagnant, reciprocating the attention.

“told you.“ you swallow thickly, a proud, fatigued smile on your face as you look at him.

it’s still quiet in the building. satoru stands a few feet ahead of you.

he looks disarrayed.

“i fucking did it, you idiot.”

clothes somewhat torn, hair slightly disheveled, you stand.

something was blooming. pride? an accomplishment of the unthinkable — proving a god wrong. going against all odds. but every sense, every feeling, dwindles as you finally muster up the attention to fully take satoru in. it’s more difficult to focus.

satoru looks strange, you think. eyes wide, face visibly more pale than usual. and he’s quiet, for once in his life.

it’s unpleasant, and you feel your body recoil a bit, physically tensing.

“what—“ you breathe heavy, eyes lidded as they look up to his. everything is kind of loud, including his stare. he’s crafted in white shimmer from your vision, and it’s easy to spot the uncharacteristic worry in his eyes. “what’s up with you?”

and for the first time since you’ve known him, gojo satoru seems small. though only differentiated by a mere year, you’re able to see that small spec of time fall upon his graceful features. like admiration crumbling, and a heavy heart dying.

gods shouldn’t fear things.

it’s shock, satoru thinks. it’s why he doesn’t immediately move, and why the walls around him seem to shrink.

he’s never been in such a state. every feeling foreign, and he thinks he might be sick for a second.

his hands are shaking, and he’s focused on red. a naturalistic color that’s been too heavily branded in his life, it feels wrong to not be indifferent about it. he should be accustomed to it, for those weaker have the misfortune of having it easily taint their skin. but gojo satoru is not heartless. (though in that moment, that’s all he wishes to be.)

your shirt is ripped from the bottom.

there’s a deep, grotesque wound that covers your lower stomach. the gash follows upwards, nearly identical to the scar he’d seen upon his first few months of knowing you. satoru had later learned that it was from your first mission alongside mei mei. you’d been separated from each other for a second too long, and it’d landed you with a permanent reminder of your lost adolescence. your devotion and commitment to the jujustu world, left on your skin forever.

open, again, as satoru watches the blood flow down your side. a gory sight, and when your eyes begin to slow in their blinking, a switch seems to turn itself on in his head.

“no, no, hey-“ and he’s rushing forward, catching you a mere second before you fall. gentle, anxious hands cradle and guide, up until your body is on the floor, and those same hands are pressed excruciatingly harshly against your abdomen. “keep—shit, keep your eyes open.”

satoru thinks he feels his heart die. if life is real, surely it had just shriveled into nothingness. because as soon as he applies pressure to the gaping wound, you’re frightened, crying out and weakly attempting to push away his unrelenting arms.

“fuck, stop-“ you’re wheezing, too pain-stricken to utter any other thought. a sliver of that unruly color trickles down the side of your mouth, and satoru believes he’s never felt emotion, panic, this intense.

his brain fogs, fuzzy and disconnected as he blinks rapidly, his breath palpitating as he reaches for his phone. his hand is ruined in the color of your state, coated fingers dialing at an inhumane speed.

satoru doesn’t register shoko’s voice. he’s repeating the same thing over and over again, for help, because he’s utterly useless for you. broken in repetition, emotions being indescribably shaken.

the blood in your mouth tastes more bitter than before. to see him hysterical felt wrong. satoru had always been something stable for the world to lean on. the universal rock, who would never dwindle. the task that comes with the title, ‘the strongest’ replacing his own personal persona.

and, you think again, expectations should really be kept low at all costs.

your eyes threaten to unfocus, trembling lightly as they try to stay open. satoru’s stomach drops, and he’s immediately shaking you gently, reminding you that ‘you’ll be fine, just look at me.’

he’s far too tense to be humorous. the wit has locked itself in a cage, and he takes in the reality of being realistic.

gojo satoru cannot deny his six eyes.

it looks fatal.

but despite your state, there’s charm in your weak, scarily optimistic demeanor.

“satoru?”

his eyes snap to yours.

he’s too selfish to shut you up, body yearning to hear your voice, no matter how defeatedly tired it sounds. it’s a little hoarse, and there’s no doubt in his mind that fatigue had stolen your energy to speak any louder. but he supposes he’d hear you even if he was buried underground.

you’re looking up to him like nothing is amiss. innocence sparkles the tiniest bit in your hazed vision.

there’s a tiny ghost of a smile that lingers on your stained lips. a wince plagues your expression shortly after, a curse and stuttered breath leaving you as satoru’s hands abruptly shift.

“ow—ow. be g-gentler since i’m fucking dying, satoru.”

satoru wants to hit you over the head, your labored breaths squeezing his very soul. he’s visibly tempted, and it’s only with the sight of extra glimmer in his eyes that your face falls slightly.

you want him to make a joke. you crave it. any form of banter, you silently plead.

but unbeknownst to you, satoru feels almost angry. how are you this calm? have you accepted something that he doesn’t want to verbalize? what could possibly be amusing about this?

“shut up. shut up, please.”

weak, and fragile, his voice nearly breaks. you watch him for a bit, eyes curious as they study. and though your vision is blurry, and you can feel yourself getting progressively lightheaded, you tap him gently.

you’re at fault. you’re conscious enough to remember that.

“‘s gonna be okay.” the words come out a little slurred, but still understandable. you attempt another insistent smile, a hand raising to wrap around the wrist plastered against you. “not dying, was just kidding.”

satoru isn’t used to being watched so intently. your gaze is intimidating despite your lowered eyelids, and you silently map out every curve and inch of his complexion. (just in case.)

it’s an odd predicament. for a few minutes, you expect the world to go dark, and for your words to end up being meaningless as death takes you by it’s hand. satoru’s voice sounds distant, scarily far, but you’re able to make out a few whispered pleas. vulnerability is something beautiful, you decide.

it gets harder to listen, and you get a greater urge to rest. maybe for a millennia. your soul feels drained, and a long, uninterrupted sleep is the only thing your brain allows you to register. satoru fades when the world does.

•••

“it was dumb.”

“that’s known. why say it again?”

“because it was dumb.”

you know that life has been lenient, allowing you to continue, as it welcomes you back with familiar voices. you don’t alert them of your awoken state until you feel confident that they’re real.

it’s with a glance that you’re revealed, and the gasp of one makes it known to the other.

satoru is still tempted to hit you. but, he settles with a small wack on your resting hand. you wince, glaring as you blink away your exhaustion. you kinda feel like the rest of your body is on fire.

he’s upset, clearly. watching you with careful vision, and completely silent. but all you’re thinking is how thankful you are to have him actually care.

he keeps his distance.

“you got lucky.”

suguru speaks up, staring, and you can only describe his expression as both relief and disappointment. his eyes trail across you, and you’re made aware that your body is covered amongst thin medical sheets. when he meets your eyes again, one look is enough to tell you of his silent order not to lift them. you follow through, because the mere thought of it is unappealing enough.

“i’ll give you guys some privacy.” he mutters, not without shaking his head, and sighing. it’s nerve-wracking, his demeanor overpowering but oddly tame. just before leaves, he looks at you once more, pursing his lips. his grip on the door is tight. “i’m glad you’re okay, though.”

the air is tense. you beg the world, to anything obtainable, to postpone suguru’s exit, but the sound of the door closing after him leaves your pleas unheard.

you count seconds silently.

it takes ten for satoru to break.

“did you get stupid overnight?”

you snort, tossing your head back in slight retaliation, knowing satoru would probably worsen the headache you can already feel forming.

“seriously, answer me.”

you’re weak to his sternness, blinking in surprise at his tone. he’s unrelenting, brows furrowed as he awaits your response. you look to the wall.

“i’m alive, aren’t i?” you hesitantly reply, a futile attempt to ease the discomfort that is clearly present. it only lands you a scoff, and satoru abruptly stands up, crossing his arms as he looks down at you.

it’s not his favorite sight in the world. there’s a bandage around your head, lightly stained, and he’d seen the state of your injuries before shoko had ultimately pulled the blanket over you.

considering what could have been, he’s more than grateful. but satoru has trouble expressing himself, and it’s a type of flaw that can’t be easily fixed with training.

he shuts his eyes, briefly, and exhales.

“i thought you were a goner.”

upon you losing consciousness, shoko had arrived a mere minute later. satoru thinks the look on her face will be branded into his memory for life — solemn, pitying, and definite. it was only with the help of denial that he had moved with urgency, and commands were thrown at shoko to keep you stable enough for transportation.

a surgery later, and it was told that you would live.

“felt like it.” you cringe, recounting the initial level of pain you had endured when satoru had first found you. it’s subsided for the most part now, though you hold a lingering fear to move, worried that it’d cause more harm than good. the flames of discomfort were decently bearable.

it’s unfortunate that you’re bedridden, for if it were up to you, the easiest solution to all your problems would be to leave the room all together.

satoru is a different person when upset. his presence is overwhelming, and you quickly learn that it is impossible to avoid him.

“i just…” satoru exhales, and there’s a clear conflict of contemplation when he shakes his head. “why would you do that?”

you almost want to poke his side, chastising his concern with a teasing smile and small laugh. but it’s painfully obvious that the last thing satoru wants is something embedded with humor, so you purse your lips, and shrug.

“i just needed to prove to myself that i was capable of defeating it. that i wasn’t useless — you know?”

there’s something you’re not saying; information that remains a mystery. satoru knows it. he can tell by the look on your face.

he’d deciphered the little secret piece the moment you had begun to look away from him.

but because satoru cares (in his own, strange way), he doesn’t bring it up. guilt somewhat gnaws on his insides, and he takes the opportunity to vaguely apologize, needing at least that in the air.

“you are capable. i knew that before all of… this.” satoru motions to you briefly, and despite the circumstances, his wince makes you want to snicker.

he watches your expression softly morph, and a more relaxed and delighted smile rests upon your lips. and he debates, for a while, because ultimately it feels wrong not to bring it up. he falls victim to his guilt.

“and, sorry for lying. suguru told me he told you.”

you nod gently, breathing out a heavy sigh. “kinda evil, satoru.”

in an instant, his eyes widen, and he’s waving his hands wildly.

“hey—hey! i only said it so it could push you more. you can’t work towards improvement without some motivation.”

“how would that motivate me?”

“personally, it would push me to change yaga’s opinion-“

“no, it made me feel like shit, actually.”

“okay, well, i didn’t consider that when i told you-“

“because you’re an idiot.”

almost comically, satoru’s mouth drops.

“who’s the one that fought a first grade by themselves?”

“well, i defeated it, so…”

“not the point.”

you’re smiling, a laugh escaping your lips. satoru doesn’t mirror you much, a more playfully annoyed look on his face.

you stare at each other for a second too long, before you feverishly look away.

the pain has calmed, you realize. you can’t really feel the ache at all.

for a moment, you’re reminded of suguru’s expression. that knowing look in his eyes.

you turn back to look at satoru. and you can feel your heart speed up, just a little, because realization dawns upon you, and you can feel yourself growing flustered.

you think you know what he was trying to say.

Tacenda

Definition: Things better left unsaid

Summary: A continuation of this, this, and this idea. Bakugou knows you don’t share his feelings, so why does his heart pick up everytime he’s close to you? And why do you seem to gravitate to him just as much?

Genre: angst with no comfort

CW: pining, mentions of drinking, foul language, makeout, lip-gloss smearing, fondling, handjob, emotional makeout, both Bakugou and reader have been drinking

Word Count: 3,693

Bakugou’s friends joke that he’s always by your side, at your feet, or not too far behind. Always hanging on to your last word.

He’d never admit it, but they’re right. He finds that being around you is addicting and finds himself doing things he never thought he would, just cause it’ll make you smile. He can’t help it.

Things like hosting parties in the apartment. It’s not his scene; He doesn’t like many people in his space messing up his stuff or drinking his booze. But whenever you suggest it? He can’t figure out how to say no.

It doesn’t help that you’re especially affectionate when you’re a little tipsy, and he’s a little less guarded than he should be. He should be hiding his feelings, keeping them close to his chest, and yet, he finds his heart on his sleeve for everyone to see. And everyone does see. Except for you.

When you playfully jump onto his back when he won’t hand over the remote on the couch, he just laughs and stands, hands gripping your thighs around his lean waist, so you won’t slip off. You’re both a little drunker than you meant to be, and he tips over slightly after he spins with you, causing you to shriek and laugh, face buried in his neck.

He blames the blush that covers his cheeks on the alcohol when Sero makes a joke about it, and you brush it off, demanding he takes you to the kitchen so you can talk with the group gathered around Kiri.

He’s gentle when he sets you on the counter, and you expect him to leave again for the couch, but he doesn’t. He leans back into you, his elbows resting comfortably on either side of your thighs, fingers rubbing soothing circles on your shins. After a while, you find yourself leaning into his warmth, arms winding around his neck again as you tilt forward to rest your head on his shoulder.

His eyes slip towards your face every few moments, and he’s acutely aware that all he’d have to do for his lips to brush yours is to turn his head the tiniest bit. He finds himself wondering if the gloss on your mouth is the same as that one night after the last party, tuning out the conversation around him completely, even if you’re fully immersed in it.

Keep reading

Family Man

Yandere!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 7.7k

Synopsis: Gojo Satoru wakes up in the body of Sawai Satoshi, a 35-year-old man with a wife and a newborn

(Warnings: Yandere, dark, brief contemplation of torture, ooc gojo, he gets better tho, explicit smut, dubcon(?), piv sex, f!oral recieving, not many warnings in this one...)

One morning, Gojo Satoru wakes up in a bed that isn't his. 

His bedsheets are expensive, silk, nothing less. He feels cotton pillowcases, and the bed feels smaller. 

He must have gone home with someone last night. 

He can feel them cuddled up to his side. Usually, he's gone by the morning, but he must have fallen asleep. Makes sense: missions these days have been getting more and more exhausting. 

Within his thoughts, he can admit that it's a nice way to wake up, but he needs to go. The sun's already high in the sky, and Ijichi will turn into a nervous wreck if he's late, again. At this point, Gojo just pities the man for even trying. 

When he shifts, the figure next to him moves too. A voice, soft and raspy. 

"Satoshi. Stop moving." 

He must have given an alias. Or maybe you just didn't remember his name. 

You're still half-asleep. Your brow is pinched in annoyance, and he finds that a little funny. You're a foreigner. He can tell from your skin tone, your hair, your accent. Despite your face buried in the blankets, he finds you pretty, and it felt like a good night.

But you two did fuck, right? 

It doesn't feel like it. He doesn't feel like he just had sex. He can't even remember what he did with you. When he looks down, Gojo realizes that he's dressed in clothes he knows he doesn't own. 

Also, he isn't wearing a blindfold, but his eyes aren't hurting. 

Too many things are wrong. When Gojo calls for his technique, he feels nothing. Too many things are going wrong. Was it you? Were you some curse user that lured him into bed or something? Did you shut off his CT? He needs to figure it out. Is there rope nearby? A knife? He needs something sharp that will make you scream and cry but he can't take too much blood because if you pass out he won't get answers- 

And then, he does hear crying. Muffled. 

It's coming from a baby monitor. 

"Ugh, no." You groan. "I thought we'd have a few more minutes." 

You're shuffling off the bed, stretching before you shoot him a sleepy smile. 

"I'll get her. Breakfast will be ready in twenty." 

You blow him a kiss, and then you're gone. 

Gojo sits up, and he studies himself again. 

His hands are shorter, unkept. The thing that unnerves him the most are the scars. Papercuts, blemishes. He's never gotten a scar in his life. Infinity protected him from that. 

But he doesn't have infinity anymore. And he doesn't think he's Gojo anymore, either. 

When he stands, he feels shorter, too. The world is bigger when he creeps into the bathroom. He flicks the lights on and looks in the mirror. 

Satoshi stares right back at him. 

↻

Gojo doesn't like being surprised. 

He actually hates surprises, so this shit is starting to put a damper on his mood. 

He considered that it may be a dream, but everything is too realistic. It has to be someone's shitty cursed technique. All that he knows is that he's currently possessing Sawai Satoshi's body. 

Age 35, from his license. The picture of him depicts a man who's starting to bald, and timid eyes. Gojo's pretty sure he's an office worker. A family man. Judging from the pictures, he and his wife just had a baby girl a couple of months ago. 

Sawai's wife. You. 

First things first, he needs to find this Satoshi guy. There's a big chance that Sawai is out there in Japan with his body and cursed technique. That is not good. And if anyone else found out what happened...

Fuck, he needs to find this guy.

Being normal is strange. He doesn't get headaches from just seeing anymore, so that's nice. Without infinity, he feels the carpet, the walls, the wooden rails, the air. It's like an out of body experience.

Eh, at least he still has his humor. 

Something's talking in the kitchen, and there's babbling. He ignores it, in favor of the door. 

"Where are you off to?" 

You're right there, head tilted and an amused smile. Gojo hasn't been this stumped in a while. He blinks. 

"Work." He finally blurts out. Satoshi has an office job. He can use that excuse. 

You laugh, and it sounds like a wind chime. 

"It's the weekend." You tell him. "Did you forget?" 

Shit. You frown at your 'husband' in sympathy. 

"They're working you too hard; I keep telling you to talk to your boss." You hum. "Anyway, food's ready! Coming?" 

You don't give him a chance to respond, ushering him along until he's sitting on a stiff wooden chair. It looks like it's seen better days. The table has scuffed wood. 

Two plates are sitting on either side of the table. Still steaming. Gojo doesn't remember the last time he ate a meal that wasn't made by a microwave or apathetic servants. He's been so busy with the jujutsu world and his students and...just everything. 

Sawai's daughter is kicking her feet on the highchair next to him. She's an infant, under a year old. She babbles something in a high-pitched squeal, giggling at him. 

You coo something at her that isn't Japanese, feeding her something that resembles apple sauce. When you look over at him again, you frown. 

"You okay?" You ask. 

He stares. 

"You haven't touched your food yet?" You continue. "Don't like it?" 

"No." He says sharply. And then he takes a bite. "It's delicious." 

It's the truth. You grin, and you turn back to your daughter. 

Despite the baby's squeals, the buzzing of the fan, it's quiet. Gojo isn't used to that. Quiet, slow, peaceful. He's used to fast, blinding flashes, urgent messages from sorcerers calling him all across the globe. Roaring special grades with sharp teeth and human-like smiles. 

Is this what being human felt like? 

He takes another bite, and he thinks he forgot to do something. 

↻

It's easy to piece yours and Sawai's lives together. 

He worked overseas. That's where he met you. You were a traditional dancer in your country, and considering the various medals and pictures, you were good at it. Gojo wonders if that's how you and Sawai met. If he was just among the crowd and saw you on stage. Did he make the first move? Or did you see him fidget in the corner before you gathered enough sympathy to talk first? You and Sawai got married in your country before you moved to Japan. Reina is your first child. You're a homemaker. Sawai is a salaryman. You two would celebrate your fifth anniversary this year.

It's a simple, normal life. Gojo finds it a little boring. 

Breakfast was nice, but he needed to get out of there. Gojo couldn't afford normal. 

You caught him again in his second escape attempt. 

"Why are you so ansty today?" You ask, folding laundry. "You're usually ecstatic to sleep on the couch all weekend." 

Because he isn't Sawai, he doesn't lounge around all day on the couch. But he can't tell you that. From all accounts, you look like a non-sorcerer, so clearly, this body-switching fiasco isn't your fault. Though, the name Sawai sounds familiar, but Gojo can't place it. 

"You've even gotten Oka riled up, Toshi." You fold up one of Sawai's shirts. 

Right, the cat. Sawai's cat, before the marriage. Animals have always had a better sense of cursed energy. The thing has been hissing at him all morning. Gojo wants to tell him the feeling's mutual. 

"Maybe he's hungry." Gojo shrugs. "And I've been..." 

He doesn't know what to say, so he stops. 

You sigh, tucking away the last of the laundry. He's seated on a couch he didn't buy. You sit next to him, arm stretched out so you can fiddle with his sleeve. 

"Listen, I know what's going on." 

He stares. You give a trepid smile, pulling a loose thread off his sleeve. It's barely even a touch, yet it burns. 

"It's work. It's always work. God, this morning you were so out of it, you nearly hopped on the train if I hadn't stopped you." You start. "This isn't healthy. Have you talked to your boss about some time off?" 

He and Sawai have more in common than he thought. Gojo can see it in the mirror : the sleepless nights and the stress. Is this how he'll end up in seven years? How depressing. 

A vacation. Gojo had seen the emails on Sawai's computer. His team treated him like a rat, just dumping more and more work on him. Sawai so far hasn't even told them no. This guy needs a backbone, but Gojo doubts he'll get one soon. 

But why does he care? Who gives a single shit? He needs to get out of here; why is he sitting here listening to Sawai's wife?

"Hey?" You nudge him, and Gojo is again forced to stare into your beautiful eyes. 

“You okay?”

You needed to stop doing that. Looking at him in a way no one has looked at him before. Lovingly, adoringly, like he's more precious than gold. 

That look isn't for him—he knows that—it's for the man who married you. The man you had a child with. And he needs to go. His students are waiting for him. Yaga’s blood pressure must be raising a mile per minute.

But it's so quiet here. Peaceful. 

And he doesn't feel like Gojo anymore. 

"Toshi?" You ask. It's enough to break the glass. Shards jab themselves into his brain, painful enough that he snaps out of it. 

Gojo clumsily stumbles off the couch, frazzled, vulnerable. That's dangerous for the strongest. You pull back, concerned. 

"Where-" 

"Out." He spits like poison. "I'm going out." 

What was he doing, Gojo thinks when he finally stumbles out the door. Everything looks so much different without the six eyes. Less clearer, he can't see the make up of things, he's no longer looking through that biological microscope. 

Still, it's too much. He flinches against the blinding sun. Around him people don't give him a second glance. He's not used to that, not being the center of attention. Right, he isn't six feet and towering over everyone. Now, he's one in the crowd. One of a million. 

He doesn't know where he is. Gojo knew he should've grabbed Sawai's phone but you were right there and everything gets so distracting when you're right there. 

Even when he's away from you, the house, the quiet, he still can't stop thinking about it. It's irritating. He wants to claw out his brain, shred it to ribbon just so he can stop. He's Gojo. The strongest. He wasn't made to be this: pathetic, whimsical, human. 

Gojo stops right in the middle of the street. Someone sends him a glare, but people pass him by. Nothing's any different. Cars and buses go down the road. People chatter. Kids run to school. Even when the strongest disappeared, the world still turned. Life goes on. 

He keeps looking at his hands. Scarred. And yet you held them like they were gold itself. Precious beyond anything else. A touch that wasn't coated in deep lust and greed. He must be crazy. He must be touch-starved. Was he so pathetic that a warm breakfast and a touch of kindness from the wife of the body he had taken over enough for him?

Gojo thinks he starts walking again. He isn't too sure, but the next time he stops, he comes face to face with a train station. 

Chiba, the words taunt him. It would take him less than an hour to get to Tokyo. Sawai has a little cursed energy, he could find the school. He could get this all sorted out. 

And then, he could go back to his life. Killing curse after curse. One sleepless night after another. 

Gojo needs to enter the station. He doesn't. 

He thinks about his parents, of all things. Barely involved in his youth, far far away than he ever was. The bed was always cold. The night's were dark. And then, he thinks about little Reina, with chubby hands and fingers. When she cried, you came. This morning the bed was warm from you snuggled up next to him. He hadn't slept that well in years. 

It's funny what a couple hours of humanity could do. He thought it'd be easy to leave behind. He hasn't been treated like a human for a long while. He thought the habit would be easy to shake. 

There's a hand on his shoulder. He turns. You're there. Of course you are. With wide eyes, a concerned frown. You shake him a bit. He just stares. 

"Toshi?" You call, looking around and Gojo realizes you don't even have the right shoes to be walking around. 

"Where did you go? What are you doing?" You question, your tone sinking and spilling like caramel. 

He gives no answer. Your shoulders drop. 

"Come on." You murmur. "Let's go home." 

You tug on his hand. 

Satoru follows. 

↻

"I'm taking you to the hospital." You tell him.

Satoru comes out of his daze when you speak to him. So far, you'd been talking quietly to a woman in her late forties, thanking her profusely. He zoned out after that, sitting on the couch, where you had left him. 

"No." He instantly replies. "I'm fine." 

"Fine." You repeat, a bite in your voice that he hasn't heard before. "You ran out, barely dressed, didn't even take your phone. You were gone for an hour. I had to call Miss Matsuda to watch Reina while I scrambled all over the streets looking for you. And when I did find you, you were staring at a train station sign."  

You cross your arms over your chest. "And-and now, it's like you're not even concerned at what just happened! Do you know how worried I was? How scared I was?"

You're on him in an instant, barely an inch away. Satoru thinks he can stare into your eyes forever. 

"Please, just...talk to me." 

But he also knows he needs to fix this, because Sawai's heart is killing him. 

He does what he wished he could have done with Suguru, all those years ago. For the first time in a decade, he gives into his inhibitions. 

You're warm, and you sink into his hold, collapsing on top of him like it's all you've ever wanted. He tightens his grip on you, smelling your shampoo. 

"I'm sorry." His voice is muffled but he knows you can hear him. "I didn't mean to leave you alone. I didn't mean to scare you." 

"I was just being a jerk." 

You're silent for a while. Satoru feels something wet seep into his shirt. 

"Yeah." You say, quiet, damp. "You were a jerk. I wanna call you something else but Reina's right there." 

He laughs. You do too, and then you lean off of him, taking his face in your hands so he can look into your eyes all over again. He finds himself leaning into touch. Maybe it's instinct.

"I wasn't scared of you." You say honestly. "I was scared for you. You've been acting strange all morning." 

"I know." He answers. "But I'm fine now." You give him a look. "No really, I'm fine! I just...figured myself out. It took a while." 

He's being selfish, plain and simple. Satoru was tired, exhausted. He just wants a break. The house is quiet. And he doesn't feel like Gojo anymore. Satoru decided that he's taking a break from being the strongest. He wants to see what normal people live like. 

Maybe it's pettiness, but he's a little sick of constantly solving other people's problems. For once, he would let other people do the work. 

And you're warm underneath his fingertips. 

"What did you figure out?" You ask, settled right next to him.

In the background, Reina babbles something.

He shakes his head and closes his eyes.

↻

Being human has its perks. 

Satoru doesn't get headaches anymore. Usually, just a couple of minutes without his blindfold is enough to give Satoru migraines. Its odd not having it on all the time, but he can get used to seeing things the way normal people see. Without the swirls of cursed energy. 

The downside is that he can get hurt now. Even by a scrawny cat. 

"Oka!" You scold as the bastard cat races down the hallway, out of site. Satoru hisses, flexing his scratched hand. 

"What is up with him today? Let me see." Instantly, you're by his side, checking his palm. Satoru feels you're too close. Infinity doesn't keep you away. 

He wonders if he'd even want to activate his technique with you around. 

"It's not that bad." You mutter to yourself, dragging him to the kitchen. "Let's just clean it before it gets infected." 

You sit him down on the kitchen stool. It creaks under his weight. Satoru watches as you dab a cotton ball with alcohol, before gently pressing it into his wound. You're so soft when you're touching him. Like you think you could accidentally break him somehow. He finds it cute. Satoru doesn't know why he lingers on your gentleness. It's probably because no one's ever treated him like he was fragile before. Something worth protecting. 

But your protection isn't for him. It's for Sawai. 

"I definitely expected some whining." You smile, placing a band-aide on his hand. "You were always so queasy when the aid-kit came out. Guess you finally got a pain-tolerance, hm?" You tease and Sawai gets more and more pathetic in Satoru's eyes. 

You put the kit away, sliding off the stool. There are downsides of being human, but he thinks the upsides make up for it. 

The cat definitely hates him, but he doesn't care about that. Satoru just wants the quiet. It's still peaceful. 

That's interrupted when the baby starts crying. 

Satoru can hear you in the other room, hushing her, trying to get Reina to settle down. She's been howling for the past ten minutes. Satoru doesn't move from the TV. It's not his place to do anything. He isn't Sawai. 

"Okay favorite parent." He hears you grumble as you come out with a squirming Reina, still sobbing. "Your turn." 

Before he can tell you no, you're already placing the child into his lap. Satoru freezes. 

He's rarely around kids. All his students were independent teenagers. He doesn't think he's ever interacted with a baby, an infant, before. It's instinct to hold her, keeping her in his lap. He stares. Reina sniffles, her sobs quiet. 

"Every single time." You scoff, but you don't sound very annoyed. "I don't get why she likes you more than me. I'm around more, aren't I?" 

Reina is looking back at him, and he wonders who she's seeing. Her father, or the man who's wearing his skin? 

The infant sniffles a little more. Her whimpers turn into coos, then shaky breaths as she slowly starts to settle in his arms. Satoru's never had anyone feel comfortable in his arms. His hands were meant to manipulate space and time. Destroy. He's killed curses with his hands. Humans too. 

Little Reina falls asleep right in between them. 

Satoru swallows. It feels so delicate. He can barely bring himself to move. 

You sit right next to him, watching her. 

"She's so cute when she's not being a demon, hm?" You ask. Satoru doesn't respond. You lean a little closer. 

"Hey," you say, voice warm and when Satoru looks at you, you have soft eyes, "I can take her. I know you want to rest today." 

"It's fine." Satoru speaks without thinking. "I got her." 

You blink, but after a while, you move back. Satoru cradles Reina to his chest. She's soft, and he keeps an extra light hold on her because he's afraid one wrong move would crush her completely. Satoru can hear her soft snores, her light babbles. It doesn't break the quiet. 

There's a weight on his shoulder as you settle in. You let out a content sigh, and Satoru feels something fill up inside of him, something that was once void. 

"I feel like it's been a while since we've done something like this," you say, voice quiet, "just...sat together, watching her." 

Satoru thinks back to the dark circles underneath Sawai's eyes, the weight gain from stress. 

"Toshi?" You ask, and it's Satrou's habit to look back at you. "Have you ever considered Japan...might not be the best place for us?" 

He stares at you. 

"Japan is my home," he says, and he has a feeling Sawai would have said that too. 

"I know." You smile. "It's mine too. But...is that enough reason to stay?" 

You shift, leaning away from him and he misses your warmth. You rest your head against the sofa, propping your head up with a fist. 

"I was thinking." You shrug, reaching over to pick lint off of his sleeves. "Maybe we should go back to my country. If it's work...my cousin works in the same industry as you. I'm sure he can find you something worth your time. I'm sure my parents would love to be closer to Reina, too." You reach up, brushing a finger against the infant's cheek. "We'd have a community, right?" 

There it was. You were lonely. Home alone with an infant. Doing nothing but attending the house. You used to be a dancer. You were good at it. Satoru wonders how much you sacrificed for the man you called your husband. In some ways, you're a little like him. 

There's no point in lying. He isn't Sawai, even as he holds Sawai's kid and Sawai's wife. In the end, he'd have to return to his body. This was a vacation. This was just a break. 

"I'll think about it." 

He agrees anyway, just to see you beam, like sunlight streaming through the window. You give him a quick kiss. 

Satoru barely holds himself back from returning the favor. 

Everything ends eventually. For Satoru, the end came later that evening. 

There's a knock on the door. He's rising up to get it. Currently, you and Reina were out on a shopping trip. He wanted to go too, but you insisted he rested. Satoru expects mail, some kind of package. 

Gojo Satoru stands in front of him. 

Tall, wearing that black outfit, Satoru always used to wear. White hair up, blindfold covering blue eyes. It was a nearly perfect imitation of the real thing. 

"Hi," Gojo says, voice frail and weak, "I-I think we need to talk." 

Sawai is exactly what Satoru pictured. Timid, quiet, stutters through his sentences. He's still not used to his new body, angling it around, trying to sit on the couch with clear difficulty. Satoru manages to piece his story together after fifteen minutes or so. Everything was Sawai's fault, right from the start. 

"Soul switching." Satoru says when Sawai's done babbling. "What an interesting technique. And you can't control it?" 

Sawai's shaking his head. "Not really. It comes and goes by its own. I'm guessing you were in the area when it activated." 

Makes sense. When Gojo gets his eyes back, he'll pick Sawai apart more thoroughly. At this point in time, the cause doesn't matter to him. 

"Does anyone else know what happened?" Satoru asks. 

Sawai shakes his head. Good. At least he was smart. 

"No," Sawai says, "I didn't know who to trust." 

"Good instincts." Satoru responds.

"Did you tell anyone?" Sawai asks and Satoru's offended that he had the audacity to even ask. 

"No," he says anyway. 

Sawai gives a sigh of relief. "That's good." He breathes. "My wife never knew about me, or anything about jujutsu sorcery. We met after I left the clan. Not sure how I'd even begin to explain something like this." 

That's why the name Sawai felt so familiar. A minor family, with dwindling power, up in the country. They barely touch on politics these days. No wonder he left. Especially with a technique like that. It's pretty nifty, but if Sawai couldn't control it, then there was no point in harnessing it. 

"So, how does the switching back work?" Satoru changes the subject. 

At this, Sawai wilts. 

"It's pretty simple," he starts, "we just touch. But it won't work right now. It has a downtime of 24 hours." 

A time constraint technique. Annoying. Satoru strangely isn't as upset as he knows he should be. 

"Hm, no point in doing anything, then." Satoru sighs, lounging on the couch. "So if you knew all that; then, what's the point of coming here?" 

That causes Sawai to fidget. It's aggravating to look at. Satoru's eyes twitch. He hopes Reina doesn't get that. No, she should be more like you, warm and kind with eyes that look like the night sky. 

"I missed them," Sawai finally says, "I missed my wife, my daughter." 

Sawai stares at the shelves. He's looking at pictures. Of you. Of him. Of your daughter. Smiling and happy. Sawai looks years younger in those photos, but Satoru is sure those pictures were taken not too long ago.

Just then, right on his collar, on his pale, slender neck, Satoru catches a glimpse of something. It looks like lipstick. 

Oh, Satoru realizes. That's why Sawai didn't come by sooner. 

"Uh, we met a while ago. Not sure if you remember." Sawai starts, laughing sheepishly. "I think you were about 10 when I first saw you. It was back when I was still in the clan. I was a teenager, wasn't really even sure what we were there for. But I saw you. And-and I think you saw me. I just remember seeing lines and lines of servants surrounding you. You were barely taller than my hip, but the power you had already...." He clears his throat. Satoru stays silent. 

"I was jealous. Really really jealous. Of a kid! I remember thinking 'if only if I were Gojo Satoru'. And now look." Sawai gestures to his new body. Perfect perfection. "And at first I was super excited...but then I slowly realized how lifeless the world was with these eyes." 

His cold apartment. Messages from him that he reads over and over. A family that only sees him as a status symbol. No friends. It's just him against the entire world, for the entire world. 

"Your life isn't all that great either." Sawai ends. 

It's strange. All his life, the one thing Satoru always wanted was for someone to understand him. He got close to that once, but even back then he was deluding himself. Sawai was the one man who was finally able to step into his shoes, see from his eyes. The only person in the world who could ever come close to understanding him. 

And Satoru hates him for it. 

"Yeah," he says, the truth, "it isn't." 

It's quiet for a couple more minutes. Satoru feels the time bleed into his skin. 

"Gojo." Sawai starts. Satoru hums. 

"I know you're not that kinda' guy, but..." Sawai trails off, biting his lip. "did you...with...?" 

Satoru gets what he's trying to say. He grins, feigning cheeriness, shaking his head. 

"Nah man, I wouldn't do that to you." He assures. "I didn't even touch your wife. Not my type." 

And Sawai believes him. Satoru can see it in his body language, even if his eyes are covered or not. Satoru doesn't know whether or not to laugh. 

“Thank you,” Sawai sighs, “and I—”

“We’re back!”

Both men turn. You’re shutting the door, the baby strapped to your hip, while groceries are in the other hand. Sawai freezes. Satoru rises up.

“I can take ‘em,” he offers, grabbing the bag.

You thank him, and then you glance at your real husband with a puzzled expression.

“Who’s this?” You ask. Reina giggles something.

Sawai opens his mouth.

“Hi...” The word is strangled on his throat. It sounded painful to speak.

You smile at him. Eyes warm, but there’s no recognition. You turn to Satoru.

“Who’s this, again?”

“A colleague.” Satoru is stepping in. “He was just leaving, I think, wasn’t he?”

He angles that question for Sawai. Who jumps in his seat. He babbles something, before finally settling on. “Yes—yes I was just leaving.” Even now, Sawai refuses to tell you, break you from that innocence. Satoru doesn’t know whether or not he’s stupid, naive, or both.

“Tomorrow morning.” Sawai tells him, just before he closes the door. Satoru gives a hum of acknowledgment, and the door clicks shut.

“What did he want?” You call from the kitchen, the infant tucked away on the high chair.

Satoru grins. “Just about work. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Satoru finally brings it up after dinner. You’re folding the last towels, tucking them away in a drawer. Satoru watches you, the way your fingers work with delicate precision. Reina’s asleep, tucked away in her crib. The only people awake right now are you and him.

“Have you seen Oka around?” You ask. “I haven’t seen him since this morning.”

Satoru shrugs. “He’s probably skulking around somewhere. I wouldn’t worry about it.” He gives. You take it as an answer, going back to your task.

“Hey,” Satoru starts. “So, what’d you think of that man earlier?”

“Who?”

“Tall. White hair. Blindfold.”

“Oh.” You say, before thinking. “Nothing. But, I didn’t really expect someone like him to be your co-worker. I can’t see him doing a desk job.” Yeah, Satoru can’t either.

“Nothing else?” He prods.

You cast him an odd look. “No, not really. Why? What about him?”

The conversation is going nowhere. He gives up.

“Nothing.” Satoru finally says. You don’t accept it.

Instead, you turn around and watch him. Your eyes seem to pick up on something. A pretty smile graces your face, but Satoru feels something heavy form in his stomach.

“Oh my god. You’re jealous.” You gasp.

Satoru feels something hot build up on his face.

“No—”

“Yes you are!” You say excitedly. “It’s written all over your face! I’ve never seen you jealous before. I should take a picture.”

“That’s not it at all.” Satoru’s quick to say.

"The kid?" You laugh, bewildered. "How old is he? 25?" 

"28." Satoru can't help but correct but you just laugh louder. 

“A baby! God, you’re jealous of a baby.”

Eventually, your giggles subside. You stare at him with crinkled eyes.

“I am way too old to be messing around with 20-something year olds.” You assure, but your voice is teasing. “Besides, I’m interested in someone, right now. And I think it’s pretty serious.”

It’s a joke. You’re not talking about him. He averts his gaze anyway. You skip over, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“But that was extremely sweet.” You tell him. “You should get jealous more often.”

You did that again. Touch him. Without effort. Thoughtlessly.

Satoru doesn’t think he can hold back anymore.

This was your fault, he thinks, this was all your fault.

He grabs your waist before you can pull away. Soft, barely gives under his touch. You melt into him like butter, sinking and falling. He traces his hands up your hips, your chest, settling on the softness of your cheek. You let him, falling under his spell, the moment he touches you. He’s used to this. Eagerness, worship, but there’s something different in your eyes.

"What?" He asks. 

"Nothing," you say, "you're just....really different, today." 

He feels his heart quicken. "Don't like it?" 

You take a second, and then you close the distance. "No, I like it." 

You like it. 

You love it

You love Satoru. 

He kisses you like a hurricane.Pushing and biting, your gasps turn into hums and sighs when you follow his lead. Your hands reach up to his chest. He wraps his around your hips, making you walk back until your feet trip over the bed.

Satoru follows you down, never once pulling away.

“Oh my god.” You gasp when he sucks on your neck. “Toshi—toshi—”

It’s not him. This isn’t for him.

But it could be.

“No. “ He stops, stares into your eyes. “Sato.” He whispers . “Call me Sato.”

You stare at him, and Satoru is scared that you can actually see him. Peeling off his skin, seeing him for the sick man that he is.

“Sato...” You murmur.

He can’t stop himself. He doesn’t want to stop himself.

“Baby.” He breathes. “Fuck, baby. Need you.”

It’s easy to work off your top, throwing it somewhere in the room. He’s only caught a hint of your frilled bra before, but seeing it broadly displayed makes his mouth water. Blue. His favorite color.

It’s like you were made all for him. No one else's.

He just didn’t get to you first.

Satoru apologizes by kissing up your chest, to your neck. He marks you so its clear as day. You trill in need and excitement, hands traveling across his shoulders, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Sato.” You repeat. “God, Sato.”

“Right here.” He assures. “Right here, baby.”

When he’s done with your bra, he feasts on your newly bared skin. It’s a pretty sight. Heaving tits, going up and down right before he pounces like a feral beast. You gasp when he sucks on your nipple. He bites, before moving onto the other. Your sweat is salty-sweet. He could drink the essence of you all day.

He wants to devour you.

And the sickest thing is that you’d let him.

Sato kisses down your chest, licking at the swell of your belly, before he’s meeting your shorts. He takes them off with little flare, close to ripping them off being he’s starving and you’ve been teasing him all day. That shake of your hips every time you’re meandering in the kitchen. You must have known what you’re doing to him. You wouldn’t be smiling so widely if you didn’t.

He licks you through your panties. You’re already wet.

“This all for me?” He knowingly asks, glancing up at you.

He expects you to shyly look away. Instead, you roll your hips into his mouth.

“All for you.” You coo. “Only for you, Sato.”

You have no idea what your words just did to him.

He finds it hotter keeping your panties on, so he leaves them, only pushing the crotch area to the side so he can get a better access to your pussy.

He isn’t shy. He’s more than happy to make himself known. You’re practically gushing all around him when he latches on your clit, swirling it around his tongue. You let out this sound he hasn't heard ever, sending it straight through his cock.

“Sato, fuck.” You grab his hair, pulling him even closer. “So so good, Sato.”

He licks up to the length of your pussy, letting your strength guide him along. A dark thought pushes its way into his brain. It quickly disappears in favor of your taste on his tongue. He’s drinking it like a man parched, trapped in the dessert, and you’re his salvation.

Your hips jerk, he stills your hips.

“Easy baby,” he says, voice muffled by your cunt, “I got you.”

“Sato,” you urge. “I cant’—I can’t. Please please please.”

“Wanna cum?” He asks, feeling a little malicious. “Wanna cum for me, pretty girl?”

You nod, and then you sob. His smile is evil.

“Beg for it.”

And you do. Your sweet sweet voice growing up in octaves when he obediently ramps it up until he’s tongue-fucking your hole. Your legs wrap around his neck, and Satoru thinks he’d happily die if it meant his last moments being this.

Eventually, you stiffen up, and then you sieze all over his tongue. Satoru gently takes you through your orgasm, watching when you fall back on the bed. You look at him, out of breath.

“Fuck,” you say, “where’d you learn to do that?”

He laughs, before climbing up your body to kiss your again. It’s slow, sensual, your tongues melting together as you taste what he’s been tasting for minutes. He hopes you think it tastes sweet too.

And because he can’t wait any longer, he’s pulling away to shuck off his pants. You giggle. He casts you a glance, but Satoru can’t find it in his heart to be upset.

Pushing down his boxers, he frowns.

It’s...disappointing, if he wants to say it lightly. Way smaller than his. What the fuck has Sawai been doing with you? No wonder you’re already so out of it.

It’ll have to do. Mainly because he’s so horny and he’d die if he isn’t inside of you at this very moment. And you’re sweet enough to help him, taking your legs apart, inviting him with knowing eyes.

“Ready baby?” He asks.

You nod, it’s all he can dream for.

He’s pushing himself in. You gasp, and he can feel everything. His sensitive cock jumps at your heat, the tight walls of your cunt practically bare down on him. He knows it’ll be next to impossible to fit his own dick.

He won’t stop though, not until he’s in all the way.

That’s the thought that gets him going. Rocking his hips back and forth. You’re edging him on with your ohs and Sato sato sato. Needy, needing him. A service he’s more than happy to provide.

“Breathe, pretty girl.” He tells you. “Almost there. We’re almost there.”

You whine in his ear, already impatient. God, he wants you. He wants this.

And he knows he can do better than him.

“Fuck baby, how bad is he that you turn so pretty in my hands, hm?” He asks. He isn’t looking for an answer. You’re barely paying attention to his words, eyes rolled back, close to tears. Just to torture you even more, he circles your clit with his thumb.

“Look at you. Bet he couldn’t do a goddamn thing with this limpdick, huh? Had—had to literally step aside, let a real man do the fucking.” He hisses, and you moan something he can’t decipher.

“Can’t blame ya’. This’s probably the first real fuck you’ve gotten in a while hm? Fuck—what would ya’ act like with some real dick?”

Satoru can imagine it. Him and you, nestled between his silk bedsheets. Him, bigger, stronger, pinning you down like he know you want to be. He won’t stop. He won’t ever stop. He’ll just keep fucking you and fucking you as you say Sato Sato Sato Sato—

When you cum for the second time, Satoru’s close behind. He collapses into you, feeling himself fill you up just like he should. You bite his earlob. He purrs in contentment.

But when he feels you still, he’s quick to rise back up, shaking you until you’re blinking at him.

“No baby.” He kindly says, feeling himself harden all over again. “We aren’t done yet.”

He wasn’t able to admire it the first time, but the second time around, he finally notices how pretty you are asleep.

Even when you’re sleeping, there’s a faint smile on your face. Your hair frames your face like a halo. Satoru isn’t religious, but he thinks its akin to watching an angel.

He’s watched you for hours now. He barely slept. Time was slowly running out.

And now, the sun’s starting to come out.

You’re so pretty. He doesn’t want to leave. Its almost torture to pull himself up, kiss you on the cheek, before tucking you properly in bed. You stir, but you don't wake. That’s relieving for Satoru. He doesn’t know if he has the strength to hold himself back.

This was nice. You were...nice.

But he had to be Gojo again.

The world can’t function without him. Jujutsu society would crumble. Curses would run rampant. He can’t risk it. His students, you, Reina, might get stuck in that.

For the sake of everyone, he closes the bedroom door behind him.

The prettiest girl in the world is sleeping too. Reina snored. Satoru almost laughed, but he held himself back. He didn’t want to wake her. After all, her mom had a long night.

As gently as he can, he tucks a tuft of hair behind Reina’s ear. She gurgles something, smacking her lips, and then stills again.

She looks nothing like Satoshi. Instead of being given his straggly straight hair, she was blessed with your curly locks. Her skin is deep and dark, matching yours perfectly. If her eyes were open, Satoru would see yours, warm and kind. You two even laughed the same.

Damn, even Sawai’s genes got cucked.

Satoru pats her cheek, and he promises himself to stop lingering. Even then, when he passes by one of Reina’s toys, he makes sure to pick it up, feeling the weight in his hands, before reluctantly placing it on a shelf. When he comes across your unwashed mug, he takes his time to put it in the sink.

He’s biding his time, even when he knows he can’t. He needs to be Gojo, not Satoru. He can’t be both.

....Why can’t he be both? The question stops him in his tracks.

What's stopping him from the best of both worlds? Why can't he have his cake and eat it too? What's stopping him from having this quiet in his life?

Himself. No one else is stopping him, but himself.

He isn’t Satoru. He isn’t Gojo either. He’s Gojo Satoru. The strongest. Who could fucking tell him no?

No one would dare make a fuss if he were to bring a foreigner non-sorcerer as his wife. No one would blink an eye if he adopted Reina. No one could. He’s pinnacles above humanity. He is the pinnacle of humanity.

He could have it all. Dominating jujutsu society, building up his students, you, your daughter. He could have everything he wants. It would be hard, but when has life ever made anything easy for him?

He’s sacrificed so much. He’s lost so much. He needs you. He deserves this. And he already knows he can make you happy.

If you’re lonely, he’ll make sure that his clan welcomes you with open arms. You’ll be treated like a princess. Reina would never want for nothing. He’d make sure she doesn’t even remember her biological father.

And Sawai...

Satoru can’t understand why a weapon like him is allowed to roam free. His technique is weak, but powerful, dangerous. He incapacitated one of the deadliest forces alive. With his technique, with how little control he has over it.

Others have been executed for less. Satoru will make sure of it.

Is it a bit over the top? Maybe. He knows Sawai’s enough of a mouse that he’ll just accept it if Satoru walks up to the bastard and tells him he’s taking his family. If he’s being honest, he isn’t all that mad about the body snatching thing, either. In any other case, he might even find it funny.

But he still remembers the marks on Sawai’s collar. He’d used Gojo Satoru’s looks to get cheap pussy, before deciding that he wanted to crawl back home to you.

Pathetic.

He shouldn’t even be allowed to exist on the same planet as you. Satoru won’t allow it.

And when he's dead, Satoru would be more than happy to play his part as a the acquaintance who just wanted to check up on you. Obliviously bring you closer and closer and closer until you're back in his arms.

Satoru can still taste you in his mouth. It'd be hard to wait for that again after having you, but you're someone worth being patient for.

He’s almost elated when Sawai shows up at the time they scheduled. He looks worse for wear, the stress of being Gojo is getting to him. Good. Someone like him should see what real problems are.

Sawai tries to exchange pleasentries. Satoru refuses to hear it. He stretches his hand out. Sawai does the same. Satoru closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, a short man with a balding head blinks timidly back up at him.

He’s back.

With his Six eyes, he can see you’re still sleeping. He makes sure to memorize the sight for his entire life.

“So, enjoyed being Gojo for a day?” He asks, if only to keep up the facade he doesn’t find the man absolutely pathetic.

A shy smile appears on Sawai’s face. He shakes his head.

“I guess my lesson is that I shouldn’t be too quick to judge.” He laughs. “We all have our own problems.”

“Right.” Satoru says, “Well, this was interesting. Take care of yourself, okay?” He waves, gallantly striding towards the door until he can’t hold himself anymore.

He sighs, tilting his head back dramatically.

“Y’know what man. I lied.” Satoru grins.

“I did fuck your wife.”

The last thing he sees before he slams the door shut, is Sawai’s baffled expression.

Gojo hadn’t expected to feel so satisfied, watching Sawai take his place at your husband, but he isn’t angry about it. Satoru stretches on the patio. It’s a pretty day outside. People are out and about. Birds are chirping.

Gojo catches a glimpse of a bushy tail before he’s reaching down to grab Oka by the scruff.

As expected, the bastard of a cat yowls, trying to claw at him. Oka recognizes him, a smart cat. Satoru smiles, unfazed. Infinity is back.

“Listen.” He tells the cat. "I'm gonna be your new daddy soon. So unless you wanna end up in the pound, you better warm up to me." 

Oka hisses, but he doesn’t struggle anymore. Satoru gracelessly drops him back on the ground. Oka scampers out of sight.

Sawai clearly used Gojo’s usual chaffuer to get here. It saves Satoru from making the call himself. He opens the car door, before plopping in the back seat.

At the wheel, Ijichi gives him a look.

“Did you find everything, okay? You were only in there for a short while.”

Sawai had kept true to his word. Not even Ijichi knew about the switch. That’s a bit unfortunate. Maybe if more people knew about his technique, what he could do, it might save his life.

Sawai needed to stop being so naive. Satoru was more than happy to teach that lesson permanently.

“Yup!” Gojo Satoru chirped. “Got everything I needed.”

|| m.list || part I || part II ||

⇢ pairing: katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

⇢ chapter: part III of III

⇢ rating: e, 18+

⇢ word count: 19,678 [ao3]

⇢ warnings: hybrids, mildly dubious consent, biting, blood, knotting, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (fem receiving)

⇢ tags: wolf hybrid bakugo, aged up characters, slow burn, bed sharing

⇢ notes: please note the new warnings and tags before reading 

⇢ summary:

After the attack, the relationship between you and your hybrid Bakugo continues to grow closer and stronger. As it does, you can’t help but feel like the two of you are heading down an inevitable, slippery path towards something you can’t take back, until finally, you can’t bring yourself to fight it any longer. 

Keep reading

Thank you for the tag @dabihawksluva 🙌

Peach

shores, headbands, warm hugs, mugs, fruit baskets, blankets, sleeping cats. your essence is peach: you are a gentle, thorough heart who seeks to spread joy. you wish to create a home for others; you are the soil of the garden, hoping others will plant themselves and never leave. your thoroughness is always humble and you scarcely act alone. you are the tender. you are the homemaker. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of honey, marigold, cream, and apricot, who share your want to help others. you are also drawn to the efficient souls tawny and ashen, who will help you grow and stand on your own. however, you may struggle to get along with the shrewd personalities of lavender and honeysuckle who can be too quickly judgmental.

@dabixobsessed

yall pls take this what color is your aura quiz

terracotta

canyons, woven rugs, bandanas, pottery pieces, matchsticks, cattails, broken nails. your essence is terracotta: you are a building storm, autonomous and resolute. you build your walls strong; no one can see your vulnerabilities, not when you keep them within your rich internal life. you are disciplined and devoted to your friends, but rarely show them weakness in return. you are the guardian. you are the wolfdog. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of tawny, garnet, red, and brown, who share your strong resolve. you are also drawn to the open-minded souls mauve and honey, who will help you grow and show you that it is alright to be emotionally attached. however, you may struggle to get along with the withdrawn personalities of jade and chiffon who are self-doubting.

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Summary: When you see Choso, it's different every time. Every summer, he's a little taller. Every summer, his voice is a little deeper, a little richer. Every summer he's more handsome. And as you both grow together, so does your love.

** A story of love blooming between two individuals over many, many summers.

Pairing: Choso Kamo x F! Reader

Genre: Childhood Friends to Lovers AU, Summertime AU, College AU

A/N: This story contains depictions of drowning and will have NSFW themes/content. Minors DNI

Story Warnings/Tags: Angst, Mutual Pining, Childhood Friends to Lovers, A lot of Tears, Choso and Reader both being bad at feelings, Growing Together, Summer Romance, Jealousy (Both Reader and Choso), First Love, Possessive Behavior, Life Changes, College Struggles, Profanity (of course)

○ PROLOGUE (CHAPTER 1): The Day We Met ○ You were nine years old when you'd laid eyes on the ocean for the first time. You had no idea that the ocean would also bring you to the boy who would hold your heart one day.

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○ CHAPTER 2: Our Summers ○ A journey through time and all the inevitable changes.

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○ CHAPTER 3: Life Goes On ○ Things take a turn.

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○ CHAPTER 4: The Truth Untold ○ Will this pain ever stop?

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○ CHAPTER 5: Beyond the Horizon

˚୨୧₊♱ please don’t kill me mr ghostface, i wanna be in the sequel .ᐟ.ᐟ

ghostface!Dabi x fem!reader

˚₊♱ cw: smut, creampie, knife play, mentions of blood, fingering, derogatory remarks, degradation & praise mixed together cause I’m a slut for both, jealous possessive Dabi. MDNI +18

˚₊♱ word count: 4.6k

˚₊♱ A/N: my contribution for this year’s halloween, here comes your favorite psycho killer 🔪

It all came down to a fun event held at the PLF headquarters, something Toga and Twice had mostly insisted on, a Halloween party. The rest of the members were unsure, some calling it a waste of time with such childish matters, but as more thought was put into this, Shigaraki and Re-Destro in the end agreed. Some fun never hurt nobody, and the League deserved some fun time after all they had been through to achieve what they had today. Just one night to forget about the exhaustion of everything and enjoy the time.

You couldn’t deny, the thought of a Halloween party had you thrilled, the most exciting part were the costumes and makeup and the creativity that came with it. The rules for this celebration were clear: the dress code was a halloween costume, whatever it was, it didn’t matter. Even though some of the villains looked “scary” enough to the point no costumes were needed. One of these villains being a certain raven haired flame user, who was less than thrilled for such waste of time, as he said.

“Technically you’re a modern day Frankenstein, I doubt you’ll need anything to wear!” Toga said, pointing at Dabi’s piercings and staples all over his face.

“Emo Frankenstein!” Twice exclaimed.

“The party hasn’t even started and you both are already a damn headache” Dabi rolled his eyes, putting down his cigarette in the ashtray and leaning back on the couch. The League had gathered together in the lobby to enjoy some nice food before the party started later this evening.

“Hey guys, don’t be rude!” you said, hoping that Toga’s words didn’t offend Dabi in a way whatsoever, even though he didn’t really seem to care. “You could also be Hades you know? The one from the movie Hercules…who has blue flames for hair? That’s an easy option as well”

“Yeah? I think I’d need my pretty Persephone by my side” he grinned. “Would ya be willing for the role perhaps?”

His teasing question had you almost choking on the water you were drinking, the mental image of you both as Hades & Persephone had you feeling all warm inside. Oh, if only..

“Just kiddin’. Thanks for the suggestion doll, but I doubt I’ll be coming to such stupid party. Shit’s not for me,” he continued, before facing you. “But maybe I’ll pass by just to see what you will be wearing~”

“That’s a secreeet!” you grinned, though you still hadn’t decided what to wear. Too many options laid on the table.

“Yeah? Gonna be so scary people will drop dead at the mere sight of you?” he teased and you kicked his arm. “Or maybe so enchanting you’ll haunt everyone’s minds for the night, hm?”

“You worried you might be one of the victims and fall for me or something?” you smirked which earned a chuckle out of him.

“We’ll see who the victim is going to be, babe” he winked, the sentence sounding threatening and yet thrilling too.

“Oh no! Somebody’s dying tonight!” Toga giggled. “Imagine though, wouldn’t it be exciting? A serial killer going stabby stabby on Halloween night, like in the movies!”

“I’d rather live to see the day thank you” you said awkwardly, noticing Dabi grinning.

“Ya’ scared?” he asked.

“As if!”

The rest of the afternoon was spent on getting ready. You had thought for you and Toga to dress up together as the angel and the devil, though she changed her mind at the very last minute and chose to be a vampire instead. You didn’t mind, being a vampire actually fit her, knowing her bloodlust. Unfortunately there was no time left for you to get other costumes and pick something else, so you got stuck as an angel. Without a devil friend. Being an angel wasn’t your absolute favorite option, but the costume made you look ethereal: a shiny white short dress with frills and bows, pretty angel wings on your back, a halo on your head, your hair nicely done and soft glowy makeup on your face. Out of many options, being an angel was the easiest and the quickest, not to say the prettiest as well, so you didn’t bother to change it. It could also pass for a white swan costume too, out of the many options you had searched with Toga on the internet to match together.

Soon enough you met the rest of the group: Twice decided to be Deadpool, Compress remained in his magician outfit, Shigaraki had surprisingly dressed up as well, a game character from the League of Legends which you had no idea of, but he looked so cool. You encouraged him to wear that costume on daily basis as well.

You rushed to the underground arena where the party would be held, and it was already booming with loud music, crowds cheering and partying, the place filled with halloween decorations, and you just knew it was going to be the best night ever. Though only something was missing. Someone.

Dabi had already decided he would not be participating , though he had been meaning to show up and look at how everyone had dressed up.

No, in fact, he was interested in you. Him not joining the party had you upset, but at least the thought of his eyes on you, checking your cute angel outfit had you excited.

Though as minutes passed, he was nowhere to be seen. You decided to text him, feeling nervous, not wanting to sound too desperate.

You: hey Dabi, aren’t you coming?

After a minute or two, you received a text back.

Dabi: Ain’t making it tonight, doll. Too tired, I’m thinking of calling it a night and just pass out.

You: oh, okay then, sleep well!

Turning off your phone you let out a sigh of frustration, disappointed that he wouldn’t see you tonight. Of course you’d still have fun with the rest, but as you had applied your makeup earlier and dolled yourself up, your mind was occupied only by Dabi.

“Heeeey angel, why so serious tonight? Come on, let’s dance!” Toga’s loud voice snapped you out of your thoughts. The little vampiress grabbed both of your hands and pulled you to the dance floor along with Twice.

“I love this song!” you shouted, finally catching up with the rhythm of the music and enjoying yourself, not paying much attention to the prying eyes of the audience from afar. The sight of you dancing confidently, swaying your body and lost in the music, managed to get quite the attention from many people. Here and there people would come and join you, men you didn’t recognise, dancing with you as well. You didn’t mind, already made up your mind to enjoy this night at the fullest.

He doesn’t like that one bit.

As you danced, from time to time you would catch a quick glimpse of someone, who was in the middle of the crowd but not dancing like the rest. He was tall, dressed in dark clothing, gloves, and a mask which you recognised to be Ghostface from the movie “Scream”. At first you didn’t pay attention to him, but as time passed, you noticed the Ghostface killer was in fact staring at the dance floor where everyone was dancing.

Staring at you.

“I’m gonna grab a drink!” you told Toga who probably didn’t even hear you. Turning your head back as you left the dance floor, you noticed Ghostface started walking too, keeping his distance, but still observing you as you grabbed your drink. You felt awkward, and almost creeped out. Maybe it was some stupid prank and probably he was doing this with other people as well.

Except he wasn’t.

Thirty minutes had passed and the man with the ghostface mask had been observing you the whole time. There behind the crowd, tall dark figure standing out easily from everyone who was dancing. It made you frustrated, so you decided to run towards his direction. Walking through the crowd was difficult, but as you reached your destination you noticed he had vanished. You eyed the whole area, but you couldn’t find him anymore, it was like he disappeared off the face of the earth.

“Weirdo” you scoffed, relieved that he had gone away. Being watched like that made it awkward for you to enjoy the party.

Just like in the movies, Toga’s words echoed in your mind. Yeah, and Ghostface apparently had picked you as a first victim. The thought was ridiculous, but it still sent a shiver down your spine.

After a while you had the need to use the restroom so badly. Getting out of the party arena, you walked through the empty hallways to find the restrooms. At some point you regretted not bringing Toga with you, the silence and darkness were creeping you out. Quickly you ran for the restroom and finished your business, before looking at yourself in the mirror once more and fixing your makeup.

A sudden noise had your soul jumping out of your body. Slow, heavy footsteps were approaching, tap, tap, tap, as they got closer, louder.

“..hello?” you called out, but no answer. The footsteps had stopped, nobody entered the restroom. You gulped, fear rising in your heart as you slowly got out, eyes searching for anybody nearby. The place was empty.

But there was someone walking outside!

“Hellooo? Is someone here?” you called again, feeling anxiety tighten your chest. Re-Destro’s mansion was kind of creepy on its own, huge building filled with endless dark corridors that led you to god knows where. You still had yet to learn your way around this place.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The footsteps again. You turned around, now sweating in fear.

“Wh-Who is there?! Hey, this isn’t funny!” you backed away, looking at some dark corner. From the shadows you saw a pair of boots appearing, slowly revealing someone.

Ghostface. The same one who was observing you earlier. He was now in front of you, towering over you as approached slowly.

“Huh? What do you think you’re doing you creep?! Cut this shit off, it’s not funny!” you shouted, but there was no answer on his side. Instead, he raised his hand slowly, revealing a sharp knife that he’d been holding this entire time.

“Oooh yeah wow, very creepy.” you snorted, but the more you looked at it, you realised that the knife was real. Dread settled deep in your gut as you looked at Ghostface gripping the handle of the knife tightly and walking towards you.

Finally, your legs gave in from being frozen in fear, and started to run. You let out a scream the moment he started running after you too, chasing you down the dark corridors. Panic had you hyperventilating, your high heels were making it difficult to outrun him. Loud heavy footsteps were sprinting towards you, the darkness of the hallways making it impossible to see the killer clearly, you could only hear him.

As stupid as it was, your legs sent you to a storage room, panic preventing you from thinking straight and find your way back to the party. You closed the door, quickly hiding behind some containers and sitting there in fear, shutting your mouth to not let out any noise. You had forgotten your phone in the restroom too. For a long time you’d find the protagonists in horror movies stupid and pathetic for not being able to think clearly on how to escape from the killer and get help, but now look at you. Even more stupid and pathetic than them, the thought would make you laugh if it wasn’t for the terrifying situation you were in.

Your hand reached to grab a hammer nearby, ready to attack in case he entered the storage room. Your quirk wasn’t fit to fight, and you cussed yourself for it.

Fuck, if only Dabi was here, he’d incinerate this fucker to ashes in seconds for pulling such insane prank on you.

The heavy footsteps from outside snapped you back to reality. Your heart was beating out of your chest, praying that this was just a prank and he’d only take it this far, that he’d leave you alone and go bother someone else. Your eyes widened as you heard him right outside the door, trying your best to swallow down the whimpers threatening to come out. It was a heavy silence that was suffocating you, for a moment you weren’t really breathing.

Not until the man outside kicked the door open with his boot, entering inside with ease. Your grip on the hammer tightened, and as soon as he approached your hiding place, you came out of it swaying the hammer to his direction, backing him away.

“Don’t you dare come closer!” your voice trembled as you tried to threaten him. You heard a faint chuckle under his mask, before he reached for you again, blocking your attack as his hands gripped on your arm, making you unable to hit him with the hammer. His strength was insane, twisting your arms in ways that had you dropping the hammer on the ground.

“Get away from me!!” you screamed loudly as strong gloved hands pulled you back by your angel wings, pushing you to the ground with ease.

“Stop it!! Let go!! Somebody help- mmmmphf!”

His hand was placed on your mouth, shutting you up and preventing you from screaming further. Finally tears started rolling down your cheeks, you had no idea who this creep was, and now the knife was brought closer to your face, the sharp tip tracing your tears slowly, as if wiping them. You laid there on your belly and him behind you, a trapped angel, unable to move or escape, what you thought was some stupid prank turned out to be worse. You had squeezed your eyes shut, breathing erratically, until you heard the same faint chuckle coming from the man on top of you. For a second you stopped breathing, slowly opening your eyes and turning your head towards the man behind you. Glossy eyes were met with the terrifying ghostface mask that observed you.

That laugh, the familiar scent that you finally managed to recognise.

No way?!

Gloved hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips, as he got closer to your face, taking in your scent of fear. Then he grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks together.

“You look absolutely divine tonight…”

The familiar voice made your eyes wide.

“D-Dabi?!” you stuttered pathetically as he laughed, removing his mask. Relief washed over you, but at the same time anger quickly bubbled up.

“You fucking idiot!! This wasn’t funny, I-I thought I was going to die!” you whined, more tears rolled down your cheeks as he hushed you, wiping them clean. “I was about to hit you with a hammer too! You’re fucked in the head!”

“Aw my sweet angel, did I really scare you that bad huh?” he hummed, but he didn’t sound sorry at all. The fucker was enjoying it all. And he’d do it again if given the chance.

You tried to push him away, too angry at his stupid prank, but he managed to roll your body and lay you down on your back, keeping both your wrists locked with one hand, preventing you from moving.

“Couldn’t miss this night without looking at my girl..” he whispered, leaning closer to breathe down your neck and leave soft kisses “… and get a taste as well.”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable!” you scoffed, still not over the death scare he had pulled on you.

“But it’s Halloween baby,” Dabi said, kissing your jaw and then going for your pouty lips, giving them a teasing bite. “Don’t you want to recreate our own scary movie~?”

You rolled your eyes at his words. Though, his low husky voice followed with kisses and bites all over your neck and collarbone had you already hot and bothered, you couldn’t even stay angry at him for one second.

“Gotta admit.. you make a pretty good Ghostface” you said, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Yeah? And you’re such a sweet little victim too” he licked his lips, his hand sliding under your dress. “So beautiful f’me, how could I miss this?”

With a quick movement, he put the mask back on, grabbing the knife and putting it on your throat. Your breathing hitched, now frozen as his other hand found the hem of your panties.

“Dabi??”

“Shhh now, just stay still. Be a good girl and you won’t get cut, would be a real shame if something like that happened..”

Oh, so this is how it is. Having a knife pointed at you was by all means terrifying, but knowing it was Dabi, you knew he would never hurt you. The tables turned, and now what you found terrifying, had your panties dampening. He had already removed his gloves, and you could tell it was him by looking at the scars, though the mask stayed on.

Slender fingers skilfully managed to find their way to your weak intimate spot, slowly and teasingly dragging along your wet folds.

“You sure you were scared babe? I mean look at you..” his laugh came muffed under the mask. “Just admit you liked it, being chased like the pathetic pretty victim you are, ready for me to kill and devour~”

His fingers rubbed your clit as his nasty words went on, making your hips buck up and your breath hitch.

“Wanna see all kinds of pretty noises you let out for me tonight” Dabi whispered, plunging two fingers inside of you that made your body jolt. “Your cries, whimpers, moans, screams, give it all to me, don’t you dare hold back-”

The knife in your throat pressed further against your skin, the fear of him accidentally cutting your throat mixed with the pool of pleasure between your thighs. It was crazy, but your body responded in ways you didn’t even know it could.

“P-Please… don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!” you said breathlessly, a giggle managed to escape your mouth. You were high on adrenaline, far too gone, and even if Dabi stabbed you in that moment you felt like you’d enjoy that too in some sick twisted way. He got closer, the ghostface mask right above your face as you pulled him in, spreading your legs further for the killer.

“I’d have killed you by now if you weren’t so fun to play with” he cooed in your ear, curling his fingers inside of you, the wet squelching sounds of your sloppy cunt had your face heated up in embarrassment. “Needy sluts like you need their brains fucked out, not bashed in”

The more he dragged his words, the closer you reached to your climax. His movements got rougher, fingers slamming into you faster.

“F-fuck..m’gonna cum.. f-feels so good.. Dabi!!” your moans got more high pitched as you reached your high. Almost forgetting the knife pressed tightly on your throat you squirmed beneath him, your eyes blurry, unable to focus on his mask as they rolled at the back of your skull.

“Atta girl, cum for me… need ya all nice n’ ready” he grunted, knuckles deep inside of you as orgasm washed all over you. Your hands gripped his shoulders, head falling back as your body trembled.

“How weak, ‘s that all it took to break ya?” Dabi laughed and you tried kicking him with your fists.

“S-Shut up…” you breathed out.

“Too bad, I’m not even done with you”

Without a warning he flipped your body around so you were laying on your belly again, pushing your head on the ground.

“Ass up” he said, pressing the cold knife on your asscheek as a warning. You obeyed his command, arching your back nicely to give him a good view, until his hand pulled your hair from behind, making you yelp in return.

“Y’know doll, I could say I’m still mad from earlier” Dabi said threateningly, his voice going an octave lower sending shivers down your spine.

“Mad? W-why?” you whispered, wondering what might’ve angered him. But then it clicked; the whole time you were dancing on the dance floor, not even noticing the eyes of many other villains nearby looking at you full of lust, at your swaying hips and flashy angel wings fluttering, easily grabbing the attention of everyone.

A playful grin spread across your face, you loved when he got jealous.

“Maybe instead of declining the offer to come to the party, you could’ve danced with me the whole time. But oh well.. other people got to enjoy me tonight so-”

“Ain’t you a little attention whore?” Dabi said through gritted teeth, his hand coming down to smack your ass so hard the loud sound echoed through the room. You hissed in pain, unable to move as you felt your asscheek go numb already.

“I had a change of heart at the last minute” he continued. “Grabbed a shitty costume nearby and decided to join the party. But to my surprise, I see your pretty ass dancing around mindlessly, sooo lost in the music you couldn’t even see those fuckers approaching to dance with you. And you just let them.”

You raised an eyebrow, wanting to test his jealousy even further. Playing with fire might get you burned, but that’s what you wanted. “How is that so wrong? You allergic to fun perhaps? I dance with who I want.”

Dabi positioned the sharp knife on your asscheek, the tip threatening to plunge itself on your skin. “Yeah? Maybe I haven’t made it clear enough then…”

What?

The knife slowly digged on your flesh, your eyes widened at the pain that had you screaming.

“D-Dabi what are you-fuck!! It hurtssss!!”

“You forget who you belong to, sweetheart” he said, continuing to carve into your asscheek what seemed to be his initial. Warm blood slowly rolled down your legs and so did your tears down your cheeks.

“My name carved on you will be a constant reminder of that” Dabi grinned, looking at the bloody mess. “No other man gets to even look at you, let alone touch you, got it?”

You whimpered a weak “yes”, trying to catch your breath. Suddenly the flat of the knife was pressed right against your bare pussy, the cold metal had you moaning in surprise.

“Look at you, you like it when I cut you up huh?” he bit his lip, watching you slowly grind your pussy on the knife. “Careful there baby, I need this cunt functional…”

“S-Stop teasing me!” you said, panting hard as Dabi pressed the knife further against you.

“Me? It’s all you, grinding on this knife like a pathetic bitch in heat.” he laughed crudely, before looking down at the bulge tightening his pants. After teasing you long enough, he unbuckled his belt, pulling out his hardened cock, piercings decorating his veiny shaft, tip red and leaking with pearly precum, bulging with anticipation to plunge into your needy hole as soon as possible. Leaning down beside you, he took out his phone, pulling you by your hair and making you face the camera in front of you. The flashlight of the camera brightened your teary face stained with the ruined makeup and messy hair, capturing the moment as the killer with the ghostface mask stood behind, as if mocking you before breaking you.

“Gorgeous..” Dabi grinned, looking at the picture, before his tip teases your glistening folds, sliding it inside of you with ease. A soft moan escaped your mouth as he stretched you out completely. Throwing the knife on the ground, his hands roughly grabbed your body, sliding underneath your clothes to grope your tits whilst the pace got faster. You couldn’t hold back the loud moans, arching your back more for him and spreading your legs fruther as he fucked you from behind.

“Fuck look at that-” he grunted, gripping the plump flesh of your ass while looking at the way his cock disappeared inside your greedy cunt. Blood had already coated your skin and lower back, making the view unable to resist for him.

“Mmhmm f-feels.. so goood.. more…” you whimpered mindlessly, drunk on his cock, the pain of his carved name on your skin already forgotten.

“More, huh?” Dabi said, stopping his movements. “Y’know what, angel slut? Show me how much you want it”

“H-Huh?”

“Fuck yourself on my cock”

Heat creeped up on your cheeks as he stood there motionless, his cock still hard inside you waiting for you to move. The mask was still on, his pants lowered and his shirt halfway up, showing his scarred abs and lower abdomen, glistening with sweat. Even fully dressed as a serial killer, this man looked hot. You kept your eyes on the man behind you as you began moving, going back and forth and fucking yourself on his cock just as he ordered. You felt every inch grinding against your gummy walls, making your head spin.

“Good girl…nghh fuck- that’s it” he moaned, placing his hands on your ass again to guide your movements. You felt so full, and yet wanted him deeper, to completely invade you.

“Dabi…wanna cum…” you said breathlessly, speeding up your movements but tiring yourself out in the process.

“Tch. C’mere…”

Pulling himself out, he flipped you over and laid you on your back, putting your legs on his shoulders and sliding it in again without a warning. The new position got you screaming, if you thought he was deep before, you were wrong. It’s like he could reach depths you never even knew you had, tearing you apart.

“F-fuck Dabi!!” you cussed out as he leaned in closer, your thighs now pressed against your tits as his hand wrapped around your throat. You looked at the ghostface mask as he fucked your brains out, desperation painting your face.

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl~” he said, not slowing the pace.

“W-wanna cum.. n’ want you to kiss me!” you pleaded, grabbing at his mask. He let you remove it, before crashing his lips against yours in a needy, hungry kiss. Moaning against his mouth, you felt the knot forming in your stomach explode as he kept hitting that certain spot over and over.

“That’s it princess…fuck you’re creaming all over this cock” Dabi said, looking at the mess where you two connected, the squelching noises and smell of sex had filled the room. He kept fucking in your trembling body as you saw stars, barely catching your breath as he reached for his own high. With a loud groan he shot loads inside of you, painting your insides white, some of it even leaking outside. It made you feel warm, full, so full of him.

Slowly he removed your legs from his shoulders, reaching in for another kiss, not pulling out of you just yet.

“Baby..” he whispered through the kisses, chuckling as he saw you barely responding. “Did my little victim already pass away?”

“Mmhmm… mr. Ghostface certainly knows how to make his victims scream” you teased, biting his lip.

Dabi grinned, gripping your hips. “Looks like I haven’t made you scream enough since you still got a voice in that throat of yours”

Your blush deepened, eyes widening at his words.

“That sounds like a threat”

“And a promise, sweetheart. Cause I’m not anywhere near done with you yet”

Nobody minded the screams and cries echoing from Dabi’s room through the hallways for the rest of that night. After all, it’s Halloween. Kill or get killed.

that pussy got MURDERED.

🏷️ tags: @hunajan @suksatoru @sukunaes @angelblueflame @trickster-kat @luvsymai @syrenkitsune @melodyglow-blog @baby-tini @ameliaenya404 @zukowantshishonourback @sukunas-bitxh @cyberdazetragedy @shortstuffiequeen24 @isabeauwolf @gabz38

BETRAYAL

a/n: happy (belated) birthday my burnt chicken nugget. also @ninjamomo is my personal hype-woman so thank her for this too, thank you

warnings: prohero!reader; literal m*rder; major character death; dabi’s real name; choking; violence; swearing; 4k of angst

“i should have seen this coming,” dabi snarled, his black boot pressing onto your chest as he towered over you, hands in his pockets, “i should’ve known”

you stared up at his dark figure, eyes narrowing at him. the damp ground underneath you was cold, you could feel your clothes absorbing some of the water, sticking against your skin. pebbles pressed against your back, the weight of the villains foot drove them deeper into your body with every passing second.

“any last words, hero?”

you couldn’t see how he had his fists clenched, fingernails digging deep into his skin. he looked at you with hatred, disgust — a look you knew he would send you sooner or later and yet hurt so much.

would he believe you if you said you didn’t want this? would he believe you if you said you never wanted it to be like this? would he believe any word that would hush over your busted lip anymore?

“you don’t have to do this,” you replied calmly, completely contradicting your irregular heartbeat and pressed breaths.

you looked up at his hunched form, his jacket flowing due to the slight wind in the alley. dabi held his head high, his eyes looking at you with disgust and hate.

it has always been only a matter of time until you‘d be subjected to this look of his — a look that was reserved for his enemies and everybody else that would even dare to stand in his way. it was inevitable, obvious that one day you‘d be on the receiving end, you had told yourself this the moment you first came in contact with him. dabi was a villain, a threat to society, a threat to every person that was just peacefully living their life. he was your enemy.

you couldn’t die here. you had a responsibility, a duty to protect the people of this town, this country.

and yet you failed, disappointing everyone in the process. your colleagues, the commission, the civilians. your friends, your family.

“maybe i don’t. but i fucking want to,” the villain huffed through his clenched teeth, putting more of his bodyweight onto your chest, making you wince in pain, “theres nothing i want more than to see you cry out in pain, begging for me to make it stop. to put you out of your misery”

you should have never agreed to this mission, not like you had a choice anyways; not like you would’ve declined anyways. they needed you and who were you to turn your back on them?

looking back, you maybe should have. maybe then you wouldn’t be here with an infamous villain threatening you — killing you. you wouldn’t leave anybody behind, you wouldn’t have violated your duty and you wouldn’t have betrayed your colleagues and your cause.

you wouldn’t have played with the thought to turn your back on them.

how did it get this far?

the weight on your chest lifted and you greedily sucked in a deep breath, filling your lungs with air. yet before you could take in another, you were forcibly grabbed by the shoulders and pulled up, your back soon crashing into a brick wall. you pressed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to not wince in pain.

“maybe i should just set you on fire right here, right now,” dabi continued, one hand on your throat as he stretched the other one out dramatically, “do you think your little hero friend would manage to save you in time?”

you clenched your jaw, hands weakly pulling on the one on your throat.

he turned back to you, his second hand now also closing around your throat, pushing you further into the cold wall, a sadistic smile on his lips. “he’s supposed to be the fastest one after all, isn’t he?”

you kept quiet however, only struggling against the villain‘s hold. you could feel his hands heating up on your skin, eyes slightly widening when you felt the rise in temperature.

“i’m curious”

how could you let it get so far? how could you allow yourself to fall so deep, to betray everyone and mostly betray yourself? and how were you even supposed to live with yourself after this — if you somehow managed to get out of this hopeless situation, that is.

“then kill me. kill me right now and find out,” you managed to reply, keeping your eyes on his face. you knew that you had no way of possibly getting out of this. dabi knew what you did, he knew who you were and he knew why you were with the league, with him. and no matter what, there was no way dabi would forgive you for this.

yet you couldn’t stop yourself from hoping that he would.

the villain tilted his head, his heated hands cooling down. he scoffed. “so willing to die after all?”

no. yes. maybe. you weren’t sure.

no, you didn’t want to die. but could you live on like this, knowing what you did, knowing what you had thought? could you continue your life like this, mentally trying to convince yourself that you did the right thing, that you did what you had to, that no matter what, you did your duty and your duty as a hero came first. waking up every morning to the blank ceiling in your home, your blanket wrapped around your legs, as you tried to believe the mantra you repeated to yourself every day.

how could you stay a hero, smiling at clueless civilians, saving them from villains, knowing that you were no better? knowing that you had considered leaving your hero self behind, leaving your entire life behind? knowing how your entire life you romanticized a flawed and corrupt system and even chose to become a part of it?

but did any of this even matter? at the end of the day, it wasn’t your choice, wasn’t it? your life laid in the hands of the villain in front of you whose hands were literally on your throat.

you closed your eyes in resignation. maybe it was for the best, you thought, slowly coming to terms with your reality. was this your punishment for betraying your morals? “if you could do me one last favor? do it quick”

dabi slightly furrowed his eyebrows. he didn’t want to admit it, but this was the first time he had seen you so passive. it wasn’t like you to not fight, to not yell, to act so defeated. where was your fire, your passion? how dare you not fight back? how dare you be so dejected? you were supposed to give him everything you got, you were supposed to show him just why and how you became a hero, you were supposed to protect yourself and defend yourself, your honor, your pride? how dare you to give him nothing?

how dare you to betray him for nothing?

“give me one reason why i should” dabi clicked his tongue, squeezing your throat. “one fucking reason”

he wanted to hear you plead, beg for your life. give him any reason, your duty, your family, friends, anything and he wouldn’t care. he wanted you to be hopeful, he might even play along and consider allowing you to walk away with severe injuries but still alive. he wanted to see the hope rise in your eyes before he would crush it with his own hands.

you should feel hurt, hopeless, betrayed.

however, what you said, caught dabi by surprise. “you love me,” you stated calmly, eyes piercing through his turquoise ones.

you don’t know what you expected, you don’t even know why you said it. after all, you embodied the very thing he despised more than anything, the one thing he swore to destroy. a shiny hero, adored by the public, that is nothing more than a cruel puppet, willing to do anything to bring the very same people down, that the system you protected with your life, failed to save.

disgusting. why would he love you?

“i don’t,” the villain shot back immediately, voice filled with fury. bringing his head next to yours, you could feel his warm breath on your ear as he continued. “i never did,” he spat angrily.

there was something about him that made you question him. the way his eye twitched, how he pressed his teeth together, how his grip on you tightened, pressing you hard against the concrete wall, like he wanted to bury you inside of it.

“i don’t believe you,” you managed to choke out, shaking in his hold. in return, dabi narrowed his eyes at you, before throwing his head back and erupting in chaotic laughter.

“since when do heroes believe villains anyway? all we do is lie and betray,” he proclaimed, one of his hands letting go of your throat as he gestured into the empty alley, like he was on a stage, reciting a dramatic monologue.

after a few seconds dabi huffed and turned back to you, his lips curled into a sadistic smile, his eyes cold. “didn’t know a hero had it in them too,” he mocked you.

“you’ve lied a lot in your life, touya,” you stated, your words coming out pressed and barely audible as you gasped for air.

“but you can’t lie to me”

dabi — touya — was a lot. a criminal, a villain, a murderer, you knew that. just like he said, he was a liar too. he lied to get his way, he lied to lure people in and he lied just for the fun of it, just because he could. he lied to you too. he tried to put you on the wrong track, he lied to conceal the league’s plans from you because he didn’t trust you when you met, he lied just to annoy you.

but dabi forgot that after all the months you have spend together, you got to knew him and his habits. you inevitably grew closer, talked more and dare you even say understood each other‘s mannerisms. as much as he hated to admit it, you knew him just as well as he knew you.

“i always lie, to everyone,” the villain claimed boldly, the cold smile still on his lips. he sounded so condescending as he continued to mock you. “surely you’re not so arrogant to think that you’re an exception”

how dare you tell him that you know him? how dare you tell him that you don’t believe him? you lied, deceived, so why would you think he wouldn’t do the same?

“i’m going to fucking enjoy this”

“what’s there to enjoy”

much to your surprise, a laugh erupted from dabi.

“i wanted to kill you the moment you were brought to us,” he claimed, face inching closer to yours as he placed his hand on your cheek, the warmth of his palm sending shivers down your back. dabi hummed. “see the life drain out of your eyes and hear you scream like the pathetic thing you are”

“but you didn’t,” you replied stiffly, staring at the villain in front of you. his breath was hot on your lips, he was close, way too close given the situation you were in.

but you knew this look, you were familiar with how his scars looked up close, his triple pierced nostril and every patch of burned skin on his flesh.

“i didn’t,” he confirmed, nodding slightly. he ripped himself away from you right after, eyes narrowing again as he examined your face. the cold air hit you immediately, you felt like your cheeks were burning. “but no one can stop me now”

you tried to take a deep breath again, holding your chin high, trying your best to stand your ground. “then get it over with”

and again he laughed, his voice booming through the dark alley.

“why? i should drag this out, shouldn’t i?” he asked rhetorically, his mind already made up.

dabi wanted you like this. resigned, afraid, hopeless, at his mercy. looking at him with watchful eyes, over-analyzing every movement, no matter how small, and bracing yourself for the moment he would strike. you looked like a cornered animal, completely helpless. pathetic.

“a pro hero, right here, just willing to die by my hands. what a sight for sore eyes”

he smirked, inching his face closer to you again, only stopping when you could feel his hot breath on your ear. “that’s not something i get to enjoy every day”

“you’re torturing yourself”

dabi hummed again, much to your surprise even nodding his head slightly at your statement before shrugging. “who cares? nothing will satisfy me more than to kill you myself”

“then do it!” you screamed back, resisting against his hold of you again, only to earn a raised brow from the villain.

you knew he wouldn’t let you go, no matter what you were to say. threats, promises, nothing could persuade him. you were mere minutes away from death and nothing in your power could stop it from happening.

no one could stop it and no one would come to save you.

“go on. kill me. leave me here to rot for all i care. but when i‘m gone, there will be no one left who ever loved you“

from the very first moment you saw him, you knew who he was and what he had done, obviously you did. you had every piece of information available on every member of the league that you knew of. you knew their stories.

but him?

dabi was a blank space, a mystery. it was like he had just appeared one day, desperate to cause chaos and destruction wherever he went. and as much as you hated to admit it, that was what was so interesting about him, what almost drew you in. you wanted to know more, you needed to know more. what could make a person drive to kill innocents with seemingly no motive, haunt the streets of the city at night, causing panic wherever he went just because he could?

it wasn’t easy to find out more about him — mostly because nobody, not even the people that called themselves his friends, knew anything. he was a closed and locked book, nobody having the key to even read one page of him.

“shut up,” he shouted back, violently pushing you against the wall again. your head began to spin at the impact, vision flooding with a few tears before it cleared again. “shut the fuck up”

you didn’t know how you actually got closer to him and you certainly didn’t know why he decided to open up to you. was it some form of bait? was it genuine? at this point, you weren’t sure what you would prefer.

if it was nothing more than bait, trying to make you feel safe around him, trying to lure you in, you had to accept that the villain managed just that. he pulled you in and dragged you down, just like he had planned.

but what if it was genuine? what if he confided in you because he trusted you, because he believed that even though you were his enemy, something was different? that somehow you could leave this behind, that it didn’t matter and that you were someone he could trust. someone that wouldn’t ever betray him.

but at the end, you did. at heart, you were a hero after all, the commission‘s puppet, willing to protect the fragile legs your system stood on — not caring if you hurt people in the process and certainly not caring about the ones your system kicked away like trash.

all you knew was that he told you. he told you of the little boy touya. he told you of his family, his father. he told you about the shoes touya had to fill and how at the end it was so easy to just toss him aside.

and you comforted him, as much as you could. you showed sympathy and you felt pity. pity for the boy that wanted to become a hero more than anything, the boy that was turned away. a boy that was hurt so deeply that he had nothing left anymore.

“no one, touya”

what kind of person were you to exploit this very part of him?

“don’t call me that,” he demanded immediately, expression changing to one full of anger. there was no touya.

“that’s your name,” you only stated.

what were you trying to do? trying to appeal in the hopeful and ambitious boy inside of him? were you seriously hoping that this would change anything?

“touya died the day dabi was born,” the villain claimed loudly, eyes shut tightly as he spoke.

there was no more touya. touya died on a hill, leaving his childish dreams of being a hero and proving himself behind. dabi was all that mattered now. he found a new purpose, a goal in him and he would allow nothing and no one to stand in his way.

“i don’t believe you”

“i don’t care,” dabi spat back immediately, voice still booming as his palm heated up against your throat, your eyes widening when you felt the rapid rise in temperature, squirming in his hold. “it means jack shit to me”

you could hear how shallow his breathing was, how he tried to regain control of himself. slowly but surely his palm cooled down again.

“just like you” his eyes scanned your face again, narrowing slightly.

“hero” you knew of his, and frankly, the league‘s, distaste for you and your fellow heroes. the supposed protectors of society, yet the ones that cause the rise of villains in the first place. you saw how they rolled their eyes whenever someone even dared to mention a hero name, how their jaw clenched and how they loudly proclaimed that heroes were the true villains. but this was the first time that dabi had spat your profession, your cause, your entire being right at your feet.

“what are you waiting for?” you asked again, trying to ignore how heavy your chest felt.

the villain clicked his tongue and shook his head. “i’m surprised you care so little about your own life,” he said sighing. “aren’t you supposed to fight till the end?”

wasn’t this already the end? what was left for you to fight for? and even if you did, even if by some wonder you managed to escape what would you do? how could you return knowing you had betrayed everything you ever stood for?

“scared to kill me after all?”

and again, dabi shook his head, looking at you almost like he was about to claim that you didn’t know him like you claimed to after all. “scared?” he repeated, tilting his head. “i’m practically dying to see you go up in flames”

with a sadistic smile on his lips he looked around, eyes halting when he looked above you, analyzing the terrible state the building was in. “who knows, maybe i’ll set the house on fire too”

“you’re cruel,” you spat, shaking in his hold again.

dabi wasn’t surprised to see you attempting to fight back, even though you knew the fight was lost. a true hero at heart after all, willing to do everything in their power and even more to protect innocent civilians.

“and yet you love me,” he stated, eyes turning back to you. “now tell me, isn’t that cruel too? loving a ruthless murderer?”

it was. you hated it and you hated yourself for it. he was a villain, a murderer just like he said, someone who actively fought against everything you stood for, someone who was about to kill you and yet you loved him.

“you’re pathetic,” dabi spat, throwing your weak body onto the ground. you groaned when you collided with the wet asphalt, pain shooting through your every limb. your chest moved fast with every shallow breath you took, trying to regain your composure and clearing your clouded senses.

meanwhile dabi crouched down beside you, feigning sympathy at your pained expression. he reached out, his fingers softly caressing your cheek before gripping your chin harshly and forcing you to look at him.

“guess that is goodbye,” he sighed, purposefully giving you a sad look, before a smirk adorned his dry lips. igniting the palm of his hand he pointed it towards you. “after all, i never liked it when anybody interrupted us during our fun times”

the villain stood up, looking down at you with a cold expression, his earlier smile nowhere in sight. “burn in hell, hero”

you closed your eyes for just a second, silently apologizing for the things you‘ve done and the things you failed to do.

you apologized to your friends and family for leaving them behind like this, knowing the only closure that they were going to get was that you were murdered in an alleyway, supposedly by none other than the infamous dabi.

you apologized to your fellow heroes, because you knew how hard it could be to lose another hero, a colleague, a friend.

you apologized to hawks for compromising not just your but also his image with the league, effectively ending his cover and endangering your mission.

you apologized the hero commission, disappointed in yourself for failing them.

you apologized to touya for hurting him, betraying him. you never wanted for it to get this far.

you apologized to everyone because no matter how you looked at it, you betrayed them — hero or villain.

and lastly, you apologized to yourself, wanting nothing more than being able to forgive yourself for your inner chaos.

and yet, you couldn’t help but just wonder about how things might have been if you hadn’t agreed to this. you could have prevented so much pain on every side, so much distrust, so much hurt, so many lies.

you wouldn’t have forgotten who you were, what you stood for and what your duty was. you wouldn’t even have considered not only retiring as a hero, but going underground, fleeing from every promise you ever made, escaping from your duty. and if all of this wasn’t enough, you weren’t even ashamed to admit that you wanted to to it with a villain.

leaving this society behind, leaving everything behind that made you who you were to live out the rest of your days with a person that was the embodiment of everything that was wrong with the system you protected.

“i’ll wait for you, touya”

shortly after, dabi turned his back to the now charred body on the dirty floor, closing his eyes as he lazily walked away. kicking a pebble away with force, he hushed around a corner, disappearing into the shadows as he heard the first terrified scream from the poor soul that came across what used to be a beloved pro hero.

the image of you smiling as you spoke his last words to him clouded his mind, not allowing him to think about anything else but you.

you betrayed the league, you betrayed him. you used him. you lied to him.

the villain huffed in disgust, clicking his tongue. of course he was happy that you wouldn’t be there to bother him anymore. you couldn’t lie to him anymore, you couldn’t use him anymore.

you couldn’t hurt him anymore.

dabi was glad that you were gone — dead — and he was more than elated that he was there to see you as your life force burned away. after all, you were nothing but a way to get information, a puppet he could use to achieve his dream one day. you were part of a corrupt system, a willing participant, that used their shiny imagine to lure people in and prevent them from seeing what a bunch of hypocrites was actually hiding behind it.

only a dead hero was a good hero.

the sound of dabi‘s fist clashing with the tough concrete wall disrupted the comfortable silence he was walking in. with dull eyes the villain looked at his bruised knuckles, his already bloodied skin now turning even darker.

but why did you have to be a hero?

reblogs are appreciated

sincerely yours | season two

↳ gojou satoru x f!reader

— series masterlist

summary. when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, ceo au, 18+

word count. 103k and counting.

taglist. closed

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, illnesses, toxic relationships, cyberbullying, classism, mentions of abortion, cheating, explicit smut, mentions of suicide (or attempts thereof), mentions of depression + more to be updated. please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

general masterlist + playlist + gallery + side stories + ko-fi

prequel + one + two + three + four + five + six + seven + eight + nine + ten + eleven + twelve + thirteen + fourteen + fifteen + epilogue

status: slow updates

all rights reserved © 2021 saintobio. please do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

I saw this and wanted to try ✨

Please don’t feel pressured to do this

@dabihawksluva

@dabixobsessed

saw this trend on twt and wanted to do it sooo...

your love type x your f/o !!

link to uquiz !!

tagging: @usononai-namida, @make-my-dream, @rebeccaselfships, @kits-ships, @gothamlonelyhearts, @shirogane-oushirou and whoever else wants to do it !! but as always, no pressure to either ^^/<33