NOT SO INVISIBLE STRING — GOJO SATORU

Might as well call this man a trampoline with the way i would be bouncing on it

Sun Eats Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 9.1k

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

Part three: Moon Starves Sun

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

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

You wanted to quit the second you read the name. 

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

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

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

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

"Is everything alright?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing. 

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

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

𖤓

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𖤓

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

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

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

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

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

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines. 

𖤓

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" Because you must have misheard him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𖤓

It was something minuscule. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That's good,” he says anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's worse than anything you could think of. 

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

This wasn't bullying. 

This was abuse. 

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired. 

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

"Why?" 

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

"Get lost." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Anything, right?" 

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

"Get on your knees." 

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

"I-I-Gojo you-" 

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

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

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

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

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

"Gojo I-" 

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

You look down at the grass. Green, soft. 

"Satoru." 

His eyes flash in satisfaction. 

"Open up, pretty girl." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My laptop...it's broken." 

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

Satoru only scoffs.

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

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

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

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

The sunset is pretty today. 

𖤓

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𖤓

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank-" 

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

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

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

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

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

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you." 

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

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

Fuck three weeks. 

You needed to get out, now. 

𖤓

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

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

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

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there. 

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

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

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

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

The door shuts with a click. 

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

You take one back. He puts his hands up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless. 

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

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

You go to move. 

Satoru's faster. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No-I-I-can't-" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you." 

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

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

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

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

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

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

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

The Whisperer

Pairing: Villain!Shinsou x Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), mind control, violence, blood, murder, yandere behavior, umm a bit of dubcon I think because of the mind control (want to be safe)

Y’ALL PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

Word Count: 2K

A/n: Alrighty roo, This was born from an idea that wouldn’t leave my head because the potential for Shinsou to be fed up with everybody sleeping on him is just GLORIOUS.  However, my mans loses his mind so this isn’t a romantic justice story aiight? It’s creepy.  Be aware it’s a bit dubious because the reader is being mind tricked so if that is something that will bother you please don’t read. 

Happy Halloween Everyone!

Special thanks to @linestrider​ for not only encouraging me to write it but ALSO beta reading it. I love you forever. 

tagging: @tomurasprincess  @pleasantanathema @dymphnasprose @elektraeriseros

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𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother, steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠: For @lorelune's spring fever collab! This fic is a little bit different than my usual fare—part love letter to my hometown, part omegaverse smut, part style experiment—but I hope you enjoy it anyway!! I also want to call out that Reader in this fic is Touya’s contemporary, and is therefore older than Shouto. Everyone is in their 20s and I’ve purposefully left the age difference ambiguous in case the canon gap squicks you out, but please know there is a difference of at least ~3 years implied. 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 21k (estimated)

𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖 — april 6

𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑖 — april 13

𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑖𝑖 — april 20

𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑣 — april 25

↳ read on ao3 (link tba)

Fuckboy Series Masterpost

A girl who loves too easily and a boy who never loved before. When both of them get involved with one another on a rather complicated and tricky note, disaster is bound to happen. Whose heart will make it out unscathed? And whose heart is going to be broken ruthlessly? Or will they both find what they’ve been looking for all along? Maybe in one another?

Find out in:

Don’t get involved with a Fuckboy - It’s bound to break your heart / Fuckboy!Stiles Au:

Part 1: The Benefit of the Doubt & The Broken Heart

Part 2: The Conflicted Mind & Hidden Feelings

Part 3: More Tears & More Heartbreak 

Part 4: The Things I Wish I Would’ve Said

Part 5: Two Broken Minds & Two Scarred Hearts 

Part 6: Could This be Our New Beginning? Or the Beginning to an End?

Part 7.1: Everything is About to Change!

Part 7.2: For the Better or for the Worse?

Part 8: Crushed At Last

Part 9: Feelings of Betrayal

Part 10: Hear Me Out

Part 11: Maybe it’s Time for Forgiveness

GET TAGGED HERE

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

allergies | zuko x fem!reader smau m.list

summary: Y/N has no feelings for her best friend’s brother. In fact, she might just be allergic to him with how much she definitely doesn’t like him.

status: complete

warnings: uh, angst. fluff. humor?? i hope?? also swear words!!! a lot of those!!! there’s like a mild panic attack on chapter 7 i think. yeah if something more comes up i’ll add it here

Keep reading

Unfinished Business- Chapter 1

Summary: You never imagined Bakugou would fall in love with you, and you certainly never imagined you’d break up with him. But he did. And you do. And now there’s too many pieces for one person to pick up. 

Genre: angst, possible smut in further chapters

Word Count: 2,430

Chapter warnings: cussing, reader has a quirk (can produce a neurotoxin that can temporarily paralyze enemies or temporarily take away pain; cannot produce both types at the same time; does not work on self)

A/N- song I listened to while writing: At Least by Jessica Baio; this chapter is formatted a bit differently, as it’s mostly a precursor to the main story, and I kinda got carried away creating a basis for the relationship with Bakugou. Oops? Reblogs/comments greatly appreciated! <3

When you first met Pro-Hero Dynamight, it had been pure chance. He’d been on his way to starting his own agency but still putting in hours as one of his old mentor’s best heroes.

You weren’t sure what made Jeanist think you’d be a promising duo, but he was insistent on pairing the two of you up on patrol, despite the large gap in experience.

And it wasn’t that you weren’t a good hero, with a quirk suited for both attack and rescue; you were lucky you’d gotten so much time in the field. But despite all this, Bakugou still felt miles ahead of you in experience, something he was sure to remind you of when you went on your first patrol together.

It wasn’t a secret that the blonde was prickly and had a temper, and as much as he respected his mentor, he clearly wasn’t happy about being partnered up. He’d insisted for the first hour that he worked better alone because ‘he didn’t have to worry about anyone keeping up with him.

The irony that he was trailing behind you the whole time wasn’t lost on you as you pretended to listen, scanning the dark streets for any disturbances while he grumbled, strutting like he owned the entire city.

He was insufferable, tugging on a strand of your hair every time he felt like maybe you weren’t paying attention to his bragging. He was so caught up in pestering you that you almost missed the black-clad figure crawling out of an upper apartment window with a backpack slung over their shoulder.

You’d taken off first, Bakugou cursing behind you, and after a brief chase, you couldn’t help but laugh, panting with the robber incapacitated beneath your knee.

“I thought no one could keep up with you, Dynamight,” you’d teased when he stopped next to you, puffing. He’d froze, and for a moment, you were sure he was gonna blow you up right then and there, and then he’d laughed.

Full-on laughed like the sound had started in his toes and worked its way up, and you’d been so startled that he only laughed harder.

Keep reading

DEMON PRINCE SHOUTO AU | MASTERLIST

tags/warnings: modern supernatural au, aged up characters, demons, bonding bites, fem pronoun + afab reader

PART I (1k)

Things seem to going well with the prince of hell you've accidentally taken home. Until a surprise visitor makes an appearance, and Shouto must take action to stake his claim on you.

PART II (1.5k)

You learn just what kind of ancient bond Shouto has invoked to protect you, and come to terms with what that means for your future.

PART III (coming soon)

You learn that a mating bond has its downsides (and its upsides). nsfw.

drabbles will be posted under the tag #third prince of hell au

not so little | t. shouto

✮ tags ; gn!reader, minor age-gap (4 years), sfw

✮ wc ; 1.3k

✮ a/n ; this is not the most original idea ever so sorry but i wanted to write my take on it

"Seriously," Touya leans on the door frame of Natsuo's room, self-satisfied smile on his face "You're crushing on...Shouto? Our Shou-chan?"

You cover your face with despair at your predicament. You can't believe you're actually telling either of them. It wasn't like you were planning too. In what universe would you even think to do that deliberately?

But Natsuo is frighteningly good at grilling you about things when you refuse to tell him. Ever since he found out about your crush, he made it his lifes mission to harass you about it. You were careful, damn it. You didn't even actually tell him, he used to his annoying deductive reasoning to figure it out. You tell Natsuo everything.

He knows about every weird medical problem you've ever had, every partner you've ever dated, and every weird fit of crying you've ever cried in your life. He's your confidant. Your best friend. So he knows there's only two sorts of crushes you couldn't tell him about.

If it was on an ex or if it was on one of his siblings. His first guess was Touya - but he figure you wouldn't be this embarrassed about that since you often wolf whistle at him when you're in the house.

Then he guessed Fuyumi, because you're still embarrassed by how pretty she is. When you said it wasn't her - he was briefly stumped before settling in a shocked silence.

"...Are you crushing on Shouto? Seriously?"

Your embarrassment told him he was right, and now you're sitting in his room and hoping the world will swallow you because you're crushing on your best friends little brother of all things.

In your defense, it wasn't always like this. You didn't see much of the youngest Todoroki at all growing up. He was in his dorms for most of highschool and Natsuo spent most of his early adulthood ducking his parents house entirely. You only met him properly when he turned twenty. They're only living together now for Touya.

You kind of wish they weren't - since it'd save you the trouble of being embarrassed twice. You've been seeing Shouto a lot recently, since you've been coming over to hang out with Natsuo.

Shouto is not the 16 year old boy you always made. He's 22 and he's got tall and lean muscle. He's polite but sweet and strangely - much funnier than you could've ever predicted. He's genuinely very kind but most of all - he's been very direct on telling you that he likes you.

You don't think anyones ever pursued you like this in your life. Both of your last relationships ended amicably but neither of them had been this...direct with you ever. Shouto is very direct, actually. Direct in telling you which honorifics to use, and telling you how nice you look, and saying he misses you often. You've been dismissive. Even you're not so desperate as to openly pursue your friends little brother.

But again, he's not so little anymore. He's taller than you now, and he's got lean muscle. He always smells great. He is incredibly pretty in the fairy prince kind of way. This is by far the worst crush you've ever had to endure in your entire life. You've tried to forget.

But just last week he walked you home after patrols, speaking casually and kindly and good god - what is with the broad-shoulders? When did that even happen?

You want to die. You want to disappear into a black hole. You want to scream and cry. Why you're crushing on a boy 4 years younger than you? Why is Todoroki Shouto of all people make your heart flutter?

"Seriously... I mean I knew he was flirting with you pretty brazenly but," Natsuo looks like he's holding back a grimace. If you weren't holding back tears, you'd hit him "...Shouto? Like...really?"

"Didn't know our little angel was such a casanova. Crazy world we live in."

"Neither of you are helping." You say exasperated. Natsuo leans back on his palms, sighing a little. "Do you think I wanted this?"

"It's not the end of the world," Natsuo offers thoughtfully. You give him a meaningful glare from the corner of his bed but he doesn't budge "I mean..I guess if I got to pick who he dated, you're not at the very bottom of the list."

You kick his side. "That's so backhanded."

"He doesn't want to admit you two are a good match," Touya says thoughtfully, unwrapping candy from his pocket. A habit he picked up trying to quit smoking "He'll be lonely if you date Shouto."

"Shut up, Touya."

You ignore both of them for a minute trying to get your bearings.

"You think we're a good match...?"

Touya laughs hard "Is that all you heard? Poor Natsu, already being abandoned."

Natsuo shoots Touya a glare.

"Touyaaaa," You drag, reaching over to tug on the bottom of his shirt "Elaborate."

"And feed your delusions?" He says, clicking his teeth "Fine. Only because it's funny."

Natsuo hmphs, and you look at him apologetically. You two will have to talk about it later. Touya rolls the candy in his mouth, pulling his shirt up to scratch at his abdomen.

"Dunno. You're like... probably one of the only people who's not gonna treat him weird cause he's a good little hero. That brat... it's probably best for him to date someone normal and civilian-esque. Not like being a hero is the most important thing in the world to him."

You flush a little. This is really, really bad. Natsuo gives you a disapproving look. You look back at him a little softer.

"I won't date him if he's off limits." You offer. Touya coos at you both.

"Well aren't you darling."

Natsuo groans, laying flat on the floor.

"Ugh. It's not like I can just say no. It's enough of a miracle that Shouto is showing interest in anyone. And if he misses out on true love, even if it's," He gives you a sideways glance and shakes his head "Even if it's with you then I can't actually stop it."

"I'll reject him if you tell me too."

"What kind of older brother do you take me for?"

"Yeah, what kind of older brother do you take him for?" Touya mocks, laughing to himself "Aren't you just a saint, Natsu?"

"Touya, I'm gonna throw you out of my room."

"Ooh, someone's mad."

Before Natsuo as a chance to come back, the sound of the door opening from the living room downstairs floats up. Shouto calls out. You feel your heart almost fall out of your ass. Touya, delighted, is the first to reply.

"Shou-chan, we're upstairs."

You make a gesture of violence towards Touya who replies by pretending to jerk off then giving you the middle finger. You don't have time to collect yourself before Shouto is upstairs. He's back from patrols and he's a little sweaty. You feel heat creep-up up your neck.

"Touya-nii, do you still—oh," Shouto smiles soft as he realizes "It's you. I didn't realize you were here."

"I came in after class."

"Alone? You should've asked me to walk home with you."

You flush. Touyas' snickering is not helping you at all.

"Isn't that out of your way?"

"It's fine. I do stuff like that a lot," You're almost disappointed until he tacks on "But it's you so it's alright."

You look up at him wide-eyed. He gives you the ghost of a smile. God you're screwed. Before you can reply, Natsuo clears his throat.

"Go wash up. You stink." He chides. Shouto immediately goes back to being a little brother, nodding his head.

"Okay. Then," He looks at you directly. You're so screwed "I'll be right back."

You wait until Shouto is finally down the hall, listening for the bathroom door to thump shut before falling back into Natsuo's bed. Touya breaks out into a fit of laughter as Natsuo sulks in the corner.

But all of it feels like white noise when you compare it to the sound of your heartbeat, thudding hard in your chest.