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churipu · 4 months

Note

I love you so so much omg ur posts, ur content, un vibe everything. you’re so so nice and yet you have me crying over every single post because of how good this is. Like yesterday i had a whole debate talking to myself abt how good of a person you were and how the likes were not doing you justice.. usually I never send requests mostly because i’m scared they take a look at it and be like “you cannot be srs”. Idk if it makes sense but oh well😭😭

can i request u make a scenario where the reader is insecure and worried their partner is going to leave them for someone prettier but they dont say anything and just start to distance themselves from them from how big of a toll it was taking on the reader? thank you sm😭🫶🏽

YOU BEING INSECURE + JJK MEN

featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, sukuna ryomen x reader

warning. cursing

note. ANON YOU'RE SO SWEET OMG BRB SOBBING HAVE ABIG FAT KISS, and i love this request so much, you don't have to worry <33 thank you for requesting my love, sorry it took so long :')

GOJO SATORU. even if gojo didn't seem like the type to be aware of his surroundings — he is very much aware. behind those blindfolds and dark glasses, his eyes darts everywhere, making sure everything is fine. even if one small thing is different to his eyes, he'll notice.

so when you began distancing yourself from him, he notices off the bat. but decided to say nothing just to make sure of it, gojo did not want to jump into conclusions. it started off as you telling him that you're busy to go on dates, or even declining his offers when he wanted to come over to your place.

he didn't think much of it until it visibly worsened, you looked miserable. when he sees you, it was like the shine in your eyes have gone away — gojo didn't know what happened, but he automatically assumed that he was behind the disappearance of it. when he asks you if you were okay, you brushed him off with a forced out smile, and he was dying to push you to just tell him everything.

but he didn't. he was afraid that if he'd push you, it would spiral an argument. for a while, he was walking on eggshells around you, you were like a ticking time bomb ready to blow up at any minute.

it was gnawing internally in gojo's mind, what did he do? what happened to you? what happened to y/n?

his y/n.

so when shoko drops the bomb on him, asking if he had broken up with you. gojo was mortified, is that what it looks like to other people? him and you calling it off? he was terrified, scared, nervous. the strongest sorcerer. yeah — he was scared.

and so he felt like it was a now or never situation.

"y/n, can we talk?"

you grimaced at his soft voice, wondering if this is the part where he's had enough and decided he'd leave you. but you nodded your head, your mind was ready, you were ready to hear it, those words: "i want to break up with you."

"please talk to me. i can't do this whole...you avoiding me, tell me what's bothering you...please." the desperation in his voice was visible, almost as if he was in the verge of tears.

his cerulean eyes were filled with such hopelessness, one you've never seen even when he was fighting a curse. you widened your eyes and inhaled sharply, "i...i'm sorry, satoru."

that was all you managed to muster up and gojo was clueless, he needed more answers, he needed answers to why you were like this, "baby, i don't... is it me? did i do anything wrong to you? please tell me, don't run away.. let me make it up to you."

it pained you to see that he thinks it was him, when it was you behind this. you shook your head, "'s not you 'ts me."

and that made gojo even more terrified than he already is, a lot of questions spiraling in his mind, did you find someone else? did you get bored of him? were you finally breaking up with him because of his constant bothering? so many questions.

"i just...there're so many more people prettier than i am. i just can't stop thinking about it. you leaving and all. 'm sorry i distanced myself from you." when you said that, gojo felt like half of his questions were all useless and he felt a bit relieved to finally get an answer to his speculations.

gojo wasted no time pulling you into his embrace, he needed it, you needed it. both of you needed it just as much, you felt so small in his embrace, head buried into his chest. gojo didn't move a bit, fearing if he moved at all — you'd break, you looked so fragile and so dainty, it scares him.

"i..love you so much." was all he could say,

"'ts you, 'ts you that i love. it hurts me to hear you talk like that." you felt like shit, you really do — so you said nothing back, you kept your face hidden in his chest.

and gojo didn't pry you away, he just needed to be close to you, "sorry."

that was when he pulled away, "you don't have to be sorry, but please talk to me, 'ts not fair if we're happy together and you have to be sad alone.." you hated crying in front of people, especially gojo, and he knew that about you.

so when you cried in that moment, gojo knew this wasn't something light — he didn't need any more explaining from you, he was just there by your side the whole night. and the next day. the next week. month. year. both of you never spoke of it again.

he's in love with you and nobody could change that, he thinks you're the prettiest anyways.

NANAMI KENTO. nanami's eyes are always on you. nobody else. and everyone knows that.

everyone except for you, unfortunately.

usually he comes home and you were always there to greet him, with a hug and kiss. it was an inseparable combo he made a routine, but for the past couple of days — he hasn't been getting that.

instead, he was greeted with silence. and just from the second time, he knew that something was definitely wrong with you. he'll find you curled up in bed, under the covers like it was the only thing that mattered in the world; but he tries to see it as a sign of exhaustion.

nanami watches your every move, for the past couple of days. you have been out of it. to the point where it was plain obvious and nanami tries asking about it, but you tell him it was just because of the stress. a sweetheart he is, he tries telling you to get some rest from work — he'd even excuse you if it's needed, but you tell him that wasn't needed and that you were fine.

obviously lying. he could see it, smell it, hear it.

it was suffocating. everything was suffocating to you, it's like everything was slowly masticating on every fiber in your body. you wanted to just, drop down and cry but whenever you try to, you just end up sitting on the floor blankly staring at nothing.

it scares yourself sometimes how empty your eyes look.

you wouldn't be surprised if nanami didn't come back home one day because he's so fed up — that's what you've been planting in you. that nanami would leave you for prettier people, for people who don't overthink, people who are generally better than you.

"y/n?"

oh. you didn't even hear him come home, you sat on the bedroom floor trying to push yourself up. and you couldn't even do that, so when nanami opens the bedroom door, seeing you on the floor — he said nothing, not even a hello.

nanami just scoops you into his arms and lays you down on the bed mutely, his slender fingers brushing your hair, "i love you," he murmurs quietly.

that was enough to make tears dwell up at the corner of your eyes, and he said nothing, grazing your tears away, "'m sorry. 'm so sorry, kento."

nanami didn't understand why you were apologizing, he hushed you, cradling you in his embrace as you let your tears free fall, "why are you sorry?"

that's when it struck you, why were you apologizing?

nanami didn't question you any further but he held you close, pressing chaste kisses onto your forehead, "is something in your mind?" you nodded slowly, "do you want to tell me about it?"

you nodded, inhaling sharply, "i just don't feel pretty enough...i feel like you deserve better than me, ken."

nanami laced your fingers with his, kissing your knuckles, "why do you say such things?" you didn't answer him, and it just breaks his heart even more, "you're perfect for me."

his words fall into deaf ears, but you didn't continue saying your worries, you just feel like nanami gets a gist of it. nanami didn't leave your side, cradling you in his arms like you're the most fragile being, "i love you," he kissed your forehead, "so much," and he kisses your lips.

nanami makes sure to spend every second telling you how much he loves you, telling you how beautiful you are, and how you're the most perfect for him.

SUKUNA RYOMEN. he hates it when you ignore him without any explanations, he's told you before, "if you have anything to say, say it to my face, don't ignore me."

but this feels like something you couldn't tell him, how you feel. it's obvious that you were distancing yourself from him, when he calls you, you sometimes pretend like you didn't hear him — and when he confronts you later, you tell him that you just didn't hear his calls.

"you're ignoring me, hm?"

"what? no— i just didn't hear you calling out to me."

don't even try to lie to him because he will always confront you about it, he sees right through you and your lies. the second time you try to run away from him when he calls out to you, he wastes no time holding you in place; confronting you right at that moment.

"why're you running away, brat?"

"i...oh, i didn't realize you were here, ryo." sukuna clicks his tongue in mere annoyance — what a bad actor you are, it's so ridiculous sukuna wanted to just burst out into laughter.

"bullshit. why're you avoiding me?"

that was it. you were cornered just like that. sighing, there isn't any way out unless you tell him — sukuna just won't let you go unless you tell him everything behind your recent behaviors.

"just don't feel pretty enough for you," you mutter out, avoiding his sharp gaze, "i feel like you can do much better than me. you deserve better than me."

sukuna gave you nothing but a mere smirk, pushing his lips onto yours. god, he didn't want to admit it — but he hates the way you talk shit about yourself, if he could tell you everything that he loves about you, he would. but he didn't because he's a jackass (and he's too shy to tell you that).

"that's it?" that's it? that's it?

you were about to push him away when he gives you that glare of his, "which person has been making you think like that?"

"no one. me."

he flicks your forehead, "then stop."

if only it was that easy, you grumbled at his response, and said nothing else so you could just leave. but sukuna, despite his ignorant answers always makes sure that you never run away from him anymore, he's a lot more touchy than usual — and he (tries) to compliment you and your appearance.

keyword: tries

he fails at it though. but you gave him kudos for trying, that's all that matters, really. that he makes you feel loved.

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sunraies · 5 months

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hey! Can you do prompt #13 (are you still awake?) with insomnia!reader x rafe??? 🙏🙏

Sorry, it's a bit short x

13. Are you still awake?

Prompt List

×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×

You checked your phone for the hundredth time, and it had only been three minutes since you last checked. The screen on the lowest brightness as the horrible numbers read 3.33AM.

"Rafe," You whispered, slowly turning over to face your boyfriend in the dark room. "Rafe." You tried again as he breathed evenly, laying on his back, perfectly content in the land of dreams.

He looked so peaceful as he slept, like the world was lifted from his shoulders. The weight of being a Cameron gone.

You gently swooped a strand of hair away from his forehead, lovely how soft his hair was under your touch. He gave a little grunt but didn't open his eyes.

"Huh?" He muttered, bringing his hand to hold yours. "You still awake? Baby"

"Uh-huh" You sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." At first, you had intended to, but seeing him so peaceful, you changed your mind

"Hm, 'ts ok." He was still half asleep as he kissed your hand before opening his arms to pull you close.

You snuggled into his chest, playing with his golden chain.

"What's going on in that pretty lil head?" He asked, knowing something was keeping you awake.

You thought for a moment before beginning to list the things that were running through your mind. From the simplest thing to the more complicated. You paused as you felt his breathing deepen again.

"Are you still awake?" You asked softly, not annoyed that he'd clearly fallen back to sleep.

"Hm, yeah....wide awake" He mumbled, clearly not.

#rafe cameron #outer banks rafe #outerbanks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff

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astraxxei · 3 months

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thinking about lovesick corrupted yan venti 🤤

he was nice enough to give his darling their own room to “be nice” but they have a chain attached from thier ankle to the bed and its only long enough to go to the four corners of the room

thinkign ab how he doesnt think its noncon because it brings them clsoer together

thinking ab darling who just gor kidnapped and gets their ass punished for biting his dick mid bj

he would punish them by hurting them back lol

u should totally write ab reader biting his dick ( like as a way of attacking him ) and getting punished for it

yes this is a noncon request 😞

gn!reader possibly?

- :3

Hi :3 anon! OF COURSE I'LL DO TS. THE BITING IS SO FUNNY HELP ME.

✧.° - You belong to me, darling...~ ♡

ft VENTI from Genshin Impact.

WARNINGS : NSFW: SEXUAL THEMES. INTERACT AT YOUR OWN RISK. DARK CONTENT. ( :NONCON. Sadism/Masochism. Slight blood. Violence. Yandere themes. Character is a yandere. Reader is a victim. Degradation.)

Yandere! Corrupted! Venti. Reader uses they/them pronouns. Reader is gn. AU where corrupted Venti is the ruler of Mondstadt and reader is an innocent citizen. Oneshot: requested.

This is a dark content post. If you do not wish to see this type of content, please block the corresponding tags. I am not responsible for any person reading this. Reader discretion is advised. Any hate will not be tolerated. By proceeding under the cut, you confirm that you wish to see this type of content and you have FULL responsibility of what you're about to read and interact with.

~ ♡ ~

Even ever since you knew about what Barbatos has become, you did not wish to leave your birth nation. Strange, yet endearing, that you had such a strong connection to your homeland that you didn't want to leave even while you knew that your archon had been corrupted with a mind full of malice and power and then... nothing. Destruction and despair, but you preferred to endure than run away. Scared and stunned, you ran and ran like a chased criminal from the wind. You had went out to buy some apples, but suddenly you felt like the breeze has been after you. You felt like this for a while, every single time you stepped foot out of your home, like something was chasing you, a strong desire to make you it's possession filling in it's blood.

But the wind blew so hard this time, it knocked you on a tree and you passed out. About time, because you've been losing sleep lately, you though before blackening out. You suddenly wake up and... You feel strange. Your head hurts, but you're on a soft bed. But you try to get up and...what is that you feel? Restraints? Chains locked in your ankle on the bed.

You realized you could only move to reach the corners of the small room. The chain attached to your ankle was starting to hurt, but you didn't notice that. More importantly, you were scared. You didn't know what was going on. Who was the one that chained you, restrained you, in a place you've never been before? You hear a faint laugh in the distance. Malicious laugh... sending shivers of terror down your spine.

The one climbing up the stairs to the little room you were currently in was no one other than the Anemo archon himself. Your eyes widen. You can't believe you got into this situation.

"B- Barbatos?!"

"Call me Venti, dear~"

His voice is sweet like sugar cubes, but it's scary and intimidating at the same time. He is average heighted, his glowing, pink eyes are staring into yours. His huge smile is spread across his face, and you swear that even in your weak vision you can see blood staining his delicate clothes.

"Look darling. You're mine from now on~ I gave you your own room~ I should be getting rewarded for being so kind and sweet...to my lover. Come here, and I will teach you how to show me your appreciation all day~"

Terrified, you shake your head as he walks towards you. You were scared, so scared, oh, what a monster...

You almost don't notice how swiftly you're being pulled towards him. You try to protest and squirm but his hand is grabbing your hair so hard it hurts and you almost cry out in pain. A malicious laugh is the response you're getting.

"Ahahaha! Look at you, trying to get away from the Anemo archon! This is a way for both of us to bond, you know...you should want it...You should be good to me...or else... I might do something you won't really like...my lovely dearie~"

You stop protesting as his hand on your hair is hurting you too much to handle. Before you realize it you're lowered down to his crotch and as he throws his clothing to the side you see his erection pent up proudly right in front of your face. Your eyes widen at the sudden realization of his size, but you remember, he's a god, so you're not anymore surprised. He looks down at you mischievously and smiles widely as he runs his hand through your hair.

"See that? Well, you better take care of it. I don't have all day."

You sigh in despair of how you got yourself into this situation. You part your lips and start taking it slowly inside your mouth, sucking slowly and looking up at him with a slightly indifferent look. You see his flushed face as he grabs your hair tighter and pulls your head towards himself roughly, the sounds of pleasure escaping his mouth as soon as he feels yours around him.

"Aaah~ Mmph~ Haah~"

He tastes so good. You don't want to admit it to yourself, but you like it. You really like the sensation. But at the same time...you get slightly annoyed. You've been denied freedom and a good life because of this faulty archon, and now he's forcing you to suck on his dick? You feel absolutely degraded. You decide you can't tolerate this, no, for your nation, and your own sake, you can't.

Without even thinking you bring your teeth to bite down. Not too hard, but enough to cause pain. You see Venti's eyes widen and tear up slightly as he lets out a pained squeal and pulls back from you immediately.

You pant and breathe heavily, looking at him as your saliva is connecting your mouth with his tip. Suddenly he looks down at you with a very angry expression and before you know it a hard, sudden slap makes it's way across your face.

"That hurt, you fucking whore!"

Your vision goes foggy. You whimper and place your trembling hand on your cheek. The chain is still tied to your ankle. You look up at him, shaking. He looks down at you, breathing heavily, but seemingly less angry than before. He kneels down and his hand quickly wraps around your neck. It's really hard, and it hurts. You try to whimper out your words.

"..'m sorry..sor- hnn..."

He lets go of your neck and smiles. "This is what you get for being a disobedient slut. Don't worry, I still love you though~ disobedient or not, you're just my adorable little toy..."

He looks down at you with a wide, mischievous smile and caresses your cheek.

"...and I'm going to do anything in my power to make sure you understand that you're mine and mine only. The feeling of me will be implanted in your brain forever. You belong to me, darling...~ "

~ ♡ ~

A/n: I have never written anything more toe curling in my whole life. Also I managed to not laugh while writting the biting part. I did not expect this to happen.

#genshin venti #venti x reader #smut #genshin smut #dark content #gn!reader #genshin x reader #anemo archon #degrading k1nk #yandere #yandere character #mental illness #core #tw noncon #tw bl0od

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wongyuuu · 7 months

Text

constellations of him | lsm

pairing: seokmin x fem!reader genre: fluff word count: 575 warnings: slightly suggestive, not nsfw a/n: written speacilly for @ressonancee, as this was basically her idea. i really hope you like it <3

this is part of my new series, seventeen as songs from red (ts)

Seokmin ➝ Message In A Bottle And I became hypnotized By freckles and bright eyes, tongue-tied ↳ Seokmin has many beauty spots all over his body, you make a point of knowing each one of them.

It was the first few rays of sunlight that broke through the glass windows that woke you up, the sound of waves a perfect soundtrack. A hum of content left your lips as you stretched your body. Not having to wake up to the obnoxious sound of your alarm felt way too good. Sure, it was still pretty early but the fact alone that you didn't wake up scared out of your life was fantastic.

Fantastic was also the weight of Seokmin's arm over your middle, holding you close to him. His grip around your waist was tight despite his sleeping state.

You turned around in his arms, slowly to not wake him. You loved to wake up to the sight of Seokmin, of the sun glistening on his lightly tanned skin from the days you spent together at the beach.

Over the years, you had grown way too fond of his beauty spots. You traced the two on his face with the tip of your finger, then down his neck, to his shoulder. His back too was covered in them, like a constellation of his own. One that only you ever got to see.

You propped your chin on his shoulder, trying to gain a better view of his back. Seokmin had a total of six beauty marks on his back: two right between his shoulderblades, twins like the two on his face, one on the curve of his shoulder, one right in the center of his back, and other two on his lower back that were momentarily covered by the sheets.

"What are you doing?" Seokmin asked, voice muffled by the pillows, tone raspier than usual due to sleep.

"Memorizing you"

His sleepy smile made your stomach twist in the best way possible. For days after you met Seokmin for the first time, his smile had stayed on your mind, like a replay of some sort. His smile paired with his bright and inviting eyes was what drew you back to him, what made you say yes when he asked you out.

You ran your nails from one mole to the other, causing chills to erupt on his skin.

He tightened the grip around your waist, somehow managing to pull you even closer to him.

“You do that whenever you think I'm sleeping” you hummed, agreeing “Haven’t you memorized me yet?”

You leaned back a little, to look at him. Seokmin smiled at you, eyes barely open, his dark hair sticking in all directions. Cradling his face in your hands, you kissed the beauty mark under his eyes, then the one close to his nose, and finally the one on his neck.

“Are you complaining?” you whispered “Cause I can stop”

Stopping was never your intention, though, and it seemed that the two of you were on the same tune. Seokmin pulled you on top of him, his large hand spraddled on your back caging you in him.

“Two can play this game, you know” he whispered.

Seokmin slowly kissed the corner of your lips and left a trace of wet kisses all over your shoulders, his tongue briefly touching your skin before he lightly bit into it.

“I have a favorite mole” the words left your lips with a moan.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured.

Nodding, you, somehow, managed to pull away from him and sat on your heels.

“This one right here” you pointed at his chest “right over your big… heart”

taglist: @wonwooz1, @ryuwonieebae, @sobun1est, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @mhlsymlysn, @immabecreepin, @uniq-tastic, @miriamxsworld

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wri0thesley · 5 months

Text

famous last words - dottore x reader x dainsleif (9.6k)

you can take care of yourself.

cw: dead dove, do not eat. not sfw, minors dni. non-con, drugging, syringes, mind control. yandere dottore and yandere dainsleif. reader is the traveller and has been travelling with dain. bondage, restraints, misuse of the akasha system, reader is traumatised and taken advantage of by dainsleif after being at dottore's mercy. reader wears a dress and has breasts/a vagina, but is referred to by they/them pronouns. please please heed the warnings.

a/n: please please (i am repeating it!) read the warnings on this one. one of my favourite yandere/dark content tropes is actually 'reader has a horrible experience and then a character who is supposed to take care of them takes advantage of them', and i don't think i've ever written it before, so this was super interesting to write!

this was a commissioned work.

Dainsleif has been on edge since the two of you crossed Sumeru’s borders.

He doesn’t say it out loud - you have learnt, over the time the two of you have spent travelling together, that Dainsleif is a man of very few words even at the best of times - but you know his small quirks and foibles well enough now that you sense it. It’s in the set of his shoulders and the line of his mouth, the way his eyes are constantly darting about wherever you go.

It’s somewhat in the way he walks closer to you, his height casting a shadow over your own, as if he can protect you merely by being near you. It makes a muscle in your jaw twitch - you are grateful for his care, of course, but surely he knows by now that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself? You have gotten used to the feeling of a sword in your hand over your search for your twin - you have made a name for yourself in every nation you’ve traversed, and only some of the time has Dainsleif been by your side.

You suppose that the newfound relationship between the two of you is clouding his judgement somewhat too--

Well.

‘Relationship’ might be too strong of a word.

Dainsleif is hesitant with you even now; checks with you, twice and three times, before he so much as touches your shoulder. But you hope you have made it clear he does not need to, with the way you have let your hand entangle with his and the way you have smiled at him when nobody else is looking, the soft confessions to him at camp overnight that he’s one of only two people in this world you would trust whole-heartedly . . .

All of that, perhaps, has made Dain even more protective over you than he was before, despite the truth of the matter being that you are almost equal in swordsmanship and combat ability. And he’s said enough to you, too, that you understand his hesitance. Other people he has loved have been taken from him - a whole nation, in fact. Dain has had to struggle on for years all alone, and walls built over such a long time do not crumble so easily--

But still. You wish he would not fret so when you walk away from him in Sumeru City to investigate an interesting looking fruit and to ask the stallholder some questions about their wares.

You’re startled out of your reverie - handling the Zaytun peaches that lay in plump piles in round baskets upon this particular stall - by Dain murmuring your name. He has attracted some attention - he is tall and handsome and blond, an air of mystery and exoticism emanating off of him - but he is unaware of the giggles behind other people’s hands, his gaze set firmly on you.

He has always been like that - those piercing blue eyes, even through his mask-like patch - never fail to make you feel as though you are the only person in the world. You have woken up in the night at camp plenty of times, too, and felt safe in the knowledge that Dainsleif is there and his gaze will not falter.

You toss some Mora to the stallholder and turn to Dainsleif, proffering one of the peaches to him. He takes it like a precious treasure.

“Is something wrong?” You ask him, before you take a bite. His brow is furrowed - you sense something brewing in the wind. A kind of unease that lies hot and heavy in the humid Sumeru air. Dain sighs softly.

“I have some things I must do,” he says to you, his voice soft and low. “I don’t want to leave you alone, but . . .”

“I’ll be fine,” you tell him, smiling. You wonder what it is that he does not want to take you along with, but you do not push - Dainsleif will tell you in his own time, you are sure. You have no desire to push him too far when his hope seems such a fragile thing still. “I’ll meet you tonight, here?”

His shoulders untense, just a touch.

“Will you stay in the City?” He asks you, and you laugh.

“Dain,” you say, smiling, just a touch of reproach in your voice. “I can take care of myself, you know! Go and do what you need to do. I will be absolutely fine. You know that! When have I not been?”

Dain does not look entirely convinced, but whatever it is that he has a need to do has a hold on him - he looks at you with those serious, piercing eyes and takes your hand. Your cheeks go hot all over as he bends to press a chivalrous kiss upon the back of it. The crowd of admirers that Dain has amassed are all atwitter over this - you cannot blame them. If you’d seen it happen to someone else you’re sure you’d be swooning. Even now, your heart is beating a double time march against your ribcage as you wonder how you got so lucky.

“You promise me?” He asks. You can sense he is barely holding back the urgency in his voice; anxiety that tugs at the syllables like it is weighing them down. This errand he has to run . . . your curiosity runs rampant at what it might be that it is so clearly important to him.

“I promise I’ll be more than fine,” you say to him, smiling. There is the slightest snick of irritation, in the back of your mind - have you not fought dragons? Have you not befriended Archons? His concern is sweet, but he does not need to fret about you so. You say to him, trying to make sure your voice is as reasonable and convincing as possible; “You don’t have to worry about me.”

As it turns out, this proclamation will come back to haunt you.

They will become what are referred to in some places as ‘famous last words’.

You notice the earpieces that the Sumeru citizens wear as you wander around; when you ask someone about it, they look baffled as to your own lack of them.

“Usually you’re given one when you come into the city,” the young woman explains, as she kindly guides you back towards the entrance of Sumeru City. This explains it; Dainsleif always prefers to take the least populated way into anywhere, and most of the time you are happy to agree with him. Your exploits across Teyvat so far have occasionally resulted in some notoriety that isn’t always conducive to exploring new nations; you’re not surprised that Dainsleif had avoided the grand entrance of Sumeru City proper. Still, you’re beaming as the young woman brazenly walks up to one of the men standing at the entrance greeting newcomers.

He has dark hair and a moustache, and is wearing the robes that you recognise as marking him out as a member of the Sumeru Akademiya; as the young woman explains that you two are without the devices - she calls them an ‘Akasha’ - you smile at him, as bright and hopeful and friendly as you can manage.

He nods thoughtfully, and raises a hand to his own Akasha system.

“Just a moment,” he tells you, “I’m scanning the system for any information on you - just to ensure we don’t go around letting in criminals, you see?”

As he does that, you ask a few more questions of the young woman - what it is that the Akasha system does, and whether your . . . unusual physiology (a far easier way to explain it, you’ve surmised over weeks of practise, than explaining that you are a traveller from beyond the realms of Teyvat) will effect it in any way. She is effluent with her praise - the Akasha, she tells you with a wide smile and genuine pride in her voice, has truly revolutionised what it is like to be a citizen of Sumeru.

“This is unusual,” the man says, finally taking his hand from the complicated earpiece of the Akasha system. “I’m terribly sorry, but . . .”

“Is everything alright?”

You hadn’t wanted to mention it, of course - but you’d been afraid when he’d said he was scanning for information on you. Though you have mostly made peace with the nations you’ve travelled through, there have been plenty of misunderstandings too - and there are an unfortunate amount of activities that may be considered criminal in your past. Your heart beats just a little too quickly, as you carry on smiling and hope that your nervousness isn’t written too plain on your face.

You’d hate to get yourself into trouble after promising Dainsleif you would be absolutely fine on your own.

“I’m sure there’s no problem at all,” the man assures you, as he tries to return your smile. “It’s simply that we do have a record of you - oh, please don’t worry, it doesn’t name you as a wanted criminal or some such thing! It merely asks that you be shown to the Akademiya to meet with one of our trusted scholars, if you are to set foot in Sumeru City.”

This sounds a little more understandable, you think, as you let loose a small sigh of relief. Your reputation precedes you in several places - and this scholar would be far from the first person who has sought your help with matters. It’s strange that they couldn’t manage it alone with all of the resources of Sumeru behind them, but you are not in a position to judge.

“Is it just me?” You ask. “I usually travel with another man, a different blond--”

He checks, the vine-like contraption of the Akasha pulsing over his ear, but then he shakes his head.

“No,” he says, as he offers you his arm. “The only information we have is on you.” Another smile, clearly meant to reassure. “I really did mean it about not worrying; if you were a danger, I’m certain that this would not all be so civil. Sumeru maintains several forces of Eremite mercenaries to keep the peace, and the Akademiya itself has the Matra . . . If you were about to be in trouble, there would be far more of a guard than simply me.”

You still consider running. You let your eyes flash over the surrounding area to map out all possible escape routes, to see who you might have to fight if you need to - but in the end, you take the proffered arm. No matter how much Dainsleif might want you to lie low and not attract attention, you can’t help thinking that causing a scene like that would be far worse than going along with whatever it is you’re wanted for up in the Akademiya.

You do not know it at the time, but it turns out to be just another decision that will come back to bite you.

As the two of you walk, Panah - that is the man’s name, you find out - sends a message up to the Akademiya proper via the system, to let them know that the two of you are coming. He seems almost giddy when he is done, a smile playing beneath the moustache.

“I was permitted to speak to him myself,” he says, and you gather from the excitement in his voice that whatever man it is you’re about to meet occupies a place of high honour within the walls of the Akademiya. You’re impressed by the technology; you can’t help thinking how useful it would be, if you and Dainsleif had such a way to communicate when you were apart.

He’s not going to be happy about all of this - but with any luck, this will be a quick thing for you to deal with and you’ll be able to rake in some glory and reputation in Sumeru so the two of you don’t have to worry so much on your journey. A lost dog, perhaps. A band of Treasure Hoarders who need to be taken out--

If you had one of those Akasha systems, you think, you wouldn’t need to be trailing up all of these steps. You bring this up to Panah, and he laughs, still riding a high from speaking to whoever it was he was permitted to speak to.

“Ah, don’t worry about that! You’re going to be very lucky - he told me he even has an Akasha terminal set aside especially for you, with a couple of brand new features he’s been wanting to test out--”

Later on, you’ll curse yourself for these words not setting alarm bells off in your head. But right then, under the bright Sumeru sun and with the freedom of a day in Sumeru without Dain’s occasionally too protective presence, you just laugh brightly and daydream about the knowledge your very own Akasha will place at your fingertips.

There’s a little bit of pomp and ceremony when you make it to the Akademiya proper; the other staff members and workers and students who have been assigned to help you are all excited and chattering as they wave Panah off and begin to lead you into the labyrinthine halls. It’s a beautiful building, to be sure - but it’s deceptively large, and after going through lifts and corridors and being taken through door after door you begin to lose sense of where exactly it is you are. You feel a brief flare of panic inside; you much prefer to be in places where you have an idea of how to escape, should the need arise--

But everyone around you remains excited about the great scholar you’re about to meet, and their smiles and pats and their wistful proclamations about how lucky you are serve to soothe the fear, just a little.

“Here we are,” says one of them, stopping outside a great wooden door with a complicated series of locks on it; some of them are easy to understand (you know what a padlock looks like, after all), but others seem to be rather more high-tech than you’re used to. Whatever it is behind this door, you think, it must either be very important or very expensive. “Oh! We have your Akasha terminal--”

He reaches into the folds of his robe to produce one of the vine-like contraptions that everyone in Sumeru wears on their ears.

“This one was designed by him specifically,” the man tells you in awe, as he reaches over and affixes it onto your ear. “It has a few brand new functions that he wants help testing out, and he said that your experience would be a huge boon in working out all of the kinks--”

Ah. So that’s what he wanted your help with. You wonder which of your exploits it is that has made this scholar think you’d be a good fit for this kind of testing; you wonder, too, why Dainsleif wasn’t included in this idea. The two of you have done so much together, after all--

You feel a brief electric zap that seems to flash over your vision and down to your spine. A little noise in your ear, a sense of heat that lasts barely a moment - and then, the man is stepping away from you and giving a strange little bow.

“It’s working, I think,” he says, as he reaches into his pocket to turn a key, swipe a card, as his own Akasha pulses to life and some of the locks upon the door respond in kind. “Ah - I’m afraid we’ll be leaving you. His temperament can be a little unpredictable, and I’m sure he’d rather meet you alone--”

“That’s alright,” you say, smiling. You wonder what kind of brand new functions this Akasha system is going to have; perhaps something for combat capabilities? Wilderness scanning, to be able to identify poisonous herbs and dangerous animals? The big wooden door slowly creaks open, as the entourage who have guided you into the bowels of the Akademiya all disperse, leaving you alone.

“Come in,” calls a voice.

The voice is familiar; somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know that you recognise it. A kind of low, smooth drawl of a voice, that shivers with suggestion as it calls out to you. But it is not enough to deter you, now you’ve made it all the way here.

You step into the room, walking further and further into it to see that it’s a . . . workshop, of some sort. There are a few tables scattered with various tools, deconstructed machinery lolling on the floor and propped against walls. There are a couple of remains of Ruin Guards, but in Sumeru this is hardly a surprising sight--

The door slams closed behind you. You hear the click and the whirr of the locks resetting themselves, trapping you in here, but even then you still do not panic just yet. You are in the Sumeru Akademiya, after all - what horror could possibly befall you at the hands of someone so well-regarded, in such a beacon of wisdom and hope in the nation?

That’s when you spot the bed in the middle of the room.

Sterile white sheets, white metal frame, restraints at the head and at the feet. An IV standing proudly beside it; a table to one side that is scattered with, instead of tools and screwdrivers, medical equipment. Needles and scalpels and pill bottles. Your throat goes dry.

“Ah,” there’s that voice again, and out of the shadows steps a figure. Your brain snaps into action sickeningly quickly; this is indeed a man you recognise. This figure, in his doctor’s coat and long boots, with his hair falling over a masked face-- “You’re just as lovely as I remembered you.”

You crouch, your body primed, your position ready to jump to attention at any moment. You reach behind you to will your sword into your hand - if you incapacitate Dottore quickly enough, perhaps you can knock him out whilst you search his workshop for tools to help you break the locks--

“Oh, my,” he says. “Such an unwelcome reception, my dear. Still. That won’t be for long.”

“Open the door,” you snarl, through gritted teeth. “Let me out, and I won’t ram my blade through your throat.”

He smiles beneath the mask, the tilt of his lips almost fond.

“There’s that lovely fire,” he says to you, in a pleased purr. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for you for what seems like forever.”

“I’m warning you--” Your fingers wrap around the hilt of your sword. Your breath comes short; your heart pounds.

You do not truly know if you could take Dottore in a fight - he is ranked second of the Harbingers, after all, and you do not think such a position would be granted without some combat capability. But you have to hold fast to your hope - and without Dainsleif here, all you have to rely on is your own skills. What might happen if he does overpower you doesn’t bear thinking about--

(You’d noticed, the last time the two of you had met, the way his gaze behind the mask had lingered on the shape of your body. The way he had spoken silky smooth, shivering with intent, when he had addressed you. The way his leather gloved hands had felt, on your shoulders, lingering there as if they wished they could be somewhere else--)

“Ah, ah,” he clicks his tongue, chiding. “Now, darling. That won’t do at all.”

You realise too late that the Doctor himself is not wearing an Akasha system earpiece - but you are.

And as you feel it pulse into life, as bright colours flash against your vision and you stumble, your sword slipping through your fingers . . .

Everything goes black.

“Now,” Dottore’s voice cuts through the blackness, as everything seems to slowly fall back into place like a jigsaw puzzle being re-assembled. “This might hurt a touch. Just a sharp scratch, my dear--”

You’ve been strapped onto the medical bed, just as you had feared. The straps are wrapped around your ankles and your wrists, binding you spread-eagle upon the thin little mattress. You can still feel the vines of the Akasha system wrapped around your ear, and your throat clogs with the fear of it - if it could knock you out stone cold, what else could it do? Your eyes flutter open, and Dottore pauses--

He’s leaning over you with a syringe in his hand, the liquid within glowing with the same blue glow as the earring he wears. As he sees that you’re awake, his mouth opens into a wide smile with just a hint of too sharp teeth.

“Oh!” He exclaims in delight. “You’re finally awake! My, you’ve missed quite the little drama.”

He carefully places the syringe down upon the metal table as he reaches over you and fiddles with some kind of control on the side of the bed. Slowly, it creaks upwards, propping you up a little so you are bent at the waist.

“That’s better,” Dottore coos. “Now we can all see one another. Look, darling. Your knight in shining armour.”

Dainsleif.

How long have you been out cold? How easy was it for Dottore to strap you onto this operating table - how deeply did the Akasha knock you out?

Long enough for Dain to realise you were missing. Long enough for him to track you down - long enough for he, too, to be overpowered by the second Harbinger and find himself entirely at the Doctor’s mercy.

Your travelling companion sits across from the bed you are restrained upon, ropes tied around his broad chest to keep him lashed to a rusted metal chair. A gag has been crudely shoved into his mouth so all he can do is make a soft little distressed noise at the predicament you have found himself in; more ropes bind his ankles to each leg of the chair, just to ensure that he’s fully unable to so much as wriggle in his bindings. He stares at you, agonised.

“We’ve been talking about everything I’m going to do to you,” Dottore hums - and something hot and sour crawls into your throat as he leans over, and his leather gloves caress your face like a lover and not like a madman. “Ah, sweet little traveller . . . I’ve barely been able to wait to get my hands on you. A pretty face like that, and that fighting spirit . . . Ah! You stick in a man’s mind.” His smile is just as wide and unhinged as ever as he taps your cheek fondly. “I don’t think your poor knight is going to enjoy it, but . . . well. I’m sure you will.”

You struggle in the bonds, as your strength returns to you. You try and use your not inconsiderable strength to see if you can loosen the leather around your wrists, as fear of the undercurrent of desire in Dottore’s words and anger at Dainsleif finding you like this and worry about Dain himself all war at once within you like a churning whirlpool.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you seethe at Dottore, tugging hard. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but it would be better for everyone if you just let me go now, and we can pretend none of this happened--”

Dottore throws his head back and laughs.

“Oh,” he practically purrs at you. “You’re so lovely when you’re enraged. But . . . ah. No, I don’t think I shall. Now, my dear. How shall we start? A kiss, perhaps? Your lips have been haunting my dreams recently--”

“I’ll bite your tongue off,” you snarl, and though you cannot see Dottore’s eyes you can tell from the way that his face moves that he has raised his eyebrows. He lets out a low, silky chuckle.

“Ah. So that’s how it’s going to be. Well, if so . . .”

He reaches back over to the metal table, and in his hands now he lifts the syringe once more. He taps the barrel of glowing blue liquid once, twice, that infuriatingly calm and smooth smile returning to his face.

“This won’t knock you out,” he tells you. “I want you to be aware of everything we do together, darling, so you remember how good it makes you feel . . . how much we belong together. But it shall . . . how should I put this? Take a bit of the edge out of you.” He leans in; finding the crook of your elbow, thumb smoothing softly and almost lovingly over the patch of skin. “I’d hate for all of your fire to go missing, but . . . perhaps we should at least dull your teeth a little, hmm?”

Dainsleif makes some awful noise; a whimper crossed with a moan, a kind of noise you’ve never heard the stoic Twilight Sword make before, as the needle sinks into your skin with a sharp scratch. Panic flares in your mind white hot at whatever kind of concoction is being injected directly into your veins--

But the panic quickly dulls, as you feel the drug beginning to take effect.

It adds a muzzy kind of quality to everything. You see Dottore and Dain before you - the Doctor smiling, Dain agonised behind his patch and gag and rope. You know that there is something terribly wrong with this scene, but your mind is too hazy to pull up the specifics. You go to open your mouth and put word to a question, but nothing comes out - your tongue is too heavy, your teeth feeling as though they’re in the wrong place in your mouth.

“Oh, lovely,” says Dottore with relish. “My, you took to that sedative better than even I hoped you would! Sweet dear thing, will you let me kiss you now?”

You know, in that hazy mess of your mind, that you do not want this man to kiss you - but as he leans forward, you cannot remember why. You cannot make your tongue move to say no, and before you know it a pair of lips have firmly pressed to your own, tasting of the smell of antiseptic and peppermint. Dottore kisses you as thoroughly as he does everything else - his mouth working against yours, sharp teeth tugging at your lower lip, his tongue slipping into your mouth and laying claim to the shape of it as if he is an explorer mapping out newly conquered territory.

From somewhere that seems very far away, you hear another angry noise, half groan and half moan.

Dottore pulls back, his tongue tracing his lips as if he’s savouring the taste of you left on them.

“Even better than I imagined,” he murmurs. “But . . . ah, my dear, don’t you want to kiss me back?”

There’s a pulse by your ear. Your mind short-circuits - and then Dottore is leaning in again for another kiss, and without you sending a single signal to your body you are kissing Dottore back, your mouth working against his, your tongues twining with one another as if possessed by an unknown force. Dottore groans into your mouth, at the same time as one of his gloved hands comes to land on your thigh, bare beneath your skirt.

You realise dully that it is the Akasha, taking control of your body; doing exactly what Dottore tells you to do.

If you hadn’t been drugged with the sedative that the Doctor had used, perhaps this realisation would make horror rise in you - it clearly does in Dainsleif, who struggles desperately against his bonds. But to you, in your current state . . . it is merely a realisation that washes over you like a cool stream. An inevitability.

“Ah,” Dottore says, and he smiles something horrific and tender down at you. “We’re going to enjoy ourselves, aren’t we?”

Those gloved fingers slide higher and higher up your thigh, the touch remaining soft. You think it would be better if he started pawing at you like an animal; if he ripped and tore at your clothes. Something about the softness of how his thumb moves over your inner thigh, the soft untouched skin there - something about the gentle way his thumb brushes over your underwear . . . that feels a hundred times worse than you could ever imagine.

He sighs in pleasure. All you can do is lay there and take it; your wrists and ankles bound, your entire body prone, your veins numbed with sedatives. Your eyes seek out Dain’s across the room - and he looks at you, so broken that you think you will cry.

Dottore’s other hand reaches up to the catches down the side of your dress. They are there to make it easier to dress yourself - catches and buttons up your spine are not helpful when you are alone or injured, and since you have found yourself in Teyvat you have been both of those things more often than you’d like to have - but you curse them, now, as Dottore’s other hand gently (oh-so-gently) peels them from your body and you are almost bare before him. Your nipples pebble in the cool air; your cheeks flush hot at how he tilts his head to look down at you.

If you could see his eyes, what would you see written in them?

“Oh,” Dottore is quiet when he speaks; appreciation dripping off every syllable. He moves his other hand away from where he’s been constantly petting at your sex through your underwear in order to turn all of his attention to your newly bared chest; you feel the hot flush across your collarbones at the sheer admiration that seems to ghost every movement. “You’re even more lovely than I could have thought.”

His leather-clad palms reach down, taking a handful of the soft curve of your chest; squeezing the half-globes in his hand, sighing happily at how they fit in his grip. His thumb and forefinger find the nub of your nipples, pinching one each until they stiffen and pucker beneath the attention and you squirm, a hot little bolt of lightning going straight from the place Dottore is pinching to the place between your thighs.

“You like that?” He murmurs, not missing the way you shudder beneath the attention. “Ah, sweet thing - has your knight not done this for you? Have you been saving yourself for me?”

Again, you can’t make your tongue form words; all you can do is let out a little whimpering moan of a noise that makes Dottore chuckle. It sounds far too close to affirmation for your liking, but what can you really do, as Dottore continues to pinch and pluck at your nipples and the warm zaps of pleasure and excitement continue to run hot in your veins?

You can hear the way your breath is starting to come out in little pants; how it shudders in the air, heat coalescing between the bots of you as Dottore’s insistent pinches further cloud your mind. You can’t help the noise that falls from your mouth as he bends his head and applies his tongue just so upon one of the buds; as it swirls around it, suckling the nipple into his mouth, lathing it with attention that makes your back arch involuntarily.

Dainsleif, still bound across the room, fights against the ropes once again and lets out a muffled noise of anger; words caught in the gag, vitriol spewed at the Doctor as he does whatever he wants to with your body. It is all for nothing, though.

Dottore’s thumbs are hooking into your underwear. The thin cotton tears at the seams at only the flimsiest tug from the second ranked Harbinger, and then Dottore is looking down at your spread thighs and the folds of your sex on display for him and cooing at you so sweetly that it cloys.

“Oh, darling,” he says to you. “You’re this wet for me?”

It’s not fair.

Frustrated tears rise to your eyes. In your current state, drugged and confused, under all of Dottore’s touches . . . your body has betrayed you. You know you’re wet; you can feel your own slick, oozing out of you, your folds wet with droplets of arousal. Desire to be touched warring with disgust for the man before you inside of you - frustration that you cannot so much as speak to put voice to your anger. Not even to beg him to stop.

Hand on your thigh. Two fingers, deftly parting the lips of your labia so cool air hits the sensitive inner folds; the swollen bud of your clit, waiting to be touched, thrumming with excitement. A whine catches in your throat at the sensation of being studied like this; the way that Dottore is looking down at you like a wolf about to thoroughly enjoy his meal.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, again. “So much lovelier in the flesh.” He turns his head without turning his body, catching Dainsleif’s gaze. “Look, Twilight Sword. Ah. Don’t you wish you were in my position now? Aren’t you simply longing to have your wicked way with our sweet little Traveller?”

Dain struggles desperately, the muscles of his shoulders flexing, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth working at the gag firmly pressed within it. You know that he wants to help you; that Dain would tear Dottore limb for limb for what he is clearly about to do to you, if only he could get himself free.

But, too, there’s something in his eye that you do not want to admit to.

Shining bright behind the agonised blue is a palpable lust; a desire to be in Dottore’s place. You know that Dain would never hurt you - would never strap you to a table and use you against your will, you’re sure of it - but that look in his eyes makes you shiver.

“Don’t worry,” Dottore assures him, turning back to you with that wicked smile on his face. “I’ll make sure you get to watch.”

He eases the way his fingers are keeping you spread apart in order to be able to slowly slide his index finger through the valley of your sex; to wet his glove on all of the slick, to let it gather on his fingertip. He raises that gloved finger to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste you as he tilts his chin back to savour it.

“Ah,” he says, as he tugs his glove off with his teeth. “Forgive me, my dear - I simply must feel you without them.”

His fingertips feel just as cold, as he touches you with them instead of the gloves. Your back arches again, though your own restraints keep you on the bed and stop you from being able to wriggle away from Dottore’s questing fingers even if the sedative hadn’t filled your limbs with honey.

Dottore lets out a soft chuckle at the way your body moves, another chiding click of his tongue.

“Breathe out,” he advises you, as his finger circles your entrance, as his thumb finds the swollen pearl of your clit and begins to draw slow, firm circles over it. “It will make it easier, sweet thing--”

One of his fingers swiftly presses inside of you, punching the air out of your chest. You hate it, you think - you hate the feel of his slender digits pressing further and further inside of you, the feel of him crooking his knuckle just so that the bone rubs against a spot inside of you that makes you see stars--

It feels good, too. You don’t want it to. You don’t like how the feeling of him inside of you seems to satiate an ache that had started when he had rubbed over the seam of your underwear and kissed you and toyed with your chest. You don’t like that, as a second finger rubs around your entrance in preparation to be put inside of you, your breath catches in excitement at the thought of being stretched further.

“That’s right,” Dottore is murmuring, his own voice a little breathless now as excitement leaks into his tone. “Oh, you’re doing so well, lovely thing. Ah-- you have no idea how good you feel. Like silk . . . Thinking about doing this to you doesn’t at all measure up to the real thing.”

The thought of Dottore having these thoughts about you makes your heart twist. You close your eyes, just so you don’t have to see Dainsleif sitting across from you, watching you with agonised eyes as Dottore’s fingers make you feel a way you didn’t know you could.

A few more months and perhaps you would have imagined Dain himself doing this to you - something more intimate than the shy, awkward kisses the two of you have so far shared, as Dainsleif silently agonises and worries about his body being tainted and his curse ruining everything that shimmers between the two of you like fragile gossamer. Perhaps then, it would have been slow and careful - Dain waiting for you to give the go-ahead, letting you lead . . .

That choice has been taken from you, now, as two of Dottore’s fingers scissor inside of you to open you up wide and his thumb continues to rub over your clit in firm, sure circles. The way that Dottore touches you would almost be clinical - designed solely to make you feel good, to prepare you for the inevitable stretch of his cock, to make sure that your slickness would provide adequate lubrication for the glide of the same - were it not for the bright mania that fills his grin as he stares down at you, watching your sex swallow his fingers with every wet, slick pump of his wrist.

That is the look of a man very much enjoying what he’s doing to you.

“Sweet Traveller,” he murmurs, low and cajoling. “I think you’re going to come for me.”

You have just enough control of your body to toss your head weakly, shaking it from side to side, your hair falling over your face. It does not hide the fact that your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are bright, that your chest is heaving as every rub of his fingers sends brand new sparks of pleasure careening to the middle of your stomach into a hot, tight ball.

“Oh,” Dottore’s voice is laced with faux sympathy. “That wasn’t me asking, darling. Come for me.”

Another zing; a zap, a pulse, where the Akasha terminal is wrapped about your ear--

And your body twitches and pulses under his command, as the hot tight ball of want inside of you seems to get a signal from the terminal that now is the time to explode. You don’t know how to explain it; the way that your mind seems to contract at the same time as your body, and then you are panting and whining helplessly as shivers rack you underneath Dottore’s twisting wrist, his insistent thumb.

He lets out a sigh of pleasure as he pulls back, his fingers glimmering wetly with your own orgasm. Again, he lifts them to his mouth; again, you see a sharp flash of teeth as his tongue traces his own digits and he savours the way you taste on his tongue.

“That’s more than enough,” he says, pleasantly. He looks at Dainsleif, the blond all wide-eyed and desperate and seething with hatred, and gives him another smile that is like the edge of a knife. “Don’t you think so, knight? Ah. Don’t you think it’s time for me to take them fully?”

Dainsleif struggles again, and Dottore laughs like a creaked, rusting hinge on a sharp iron gate.

“I don’t want to hurt them,” he says, syrupy sweet. “Oh, they mean more to me than that. I merely want them to understand how badly I need them . . . and how good I could be for them, too.”

The sedatives in your system do not allow you to fight back; to bare your teeth and growl and tell him you could never imagine how he could possibly be good for you. But though your mind churns with these thoughts, your body is still not quick enough to respond - your veins still weighed down with honey. Too tenderly, Dottore reaches for your face; traces his thumb over your cheekbone.

“We are going to consummate our mutual adoration,” he tells you, and he reaches for his fly. You hear the buttons of his placket undo as if you are somewhere very far away, button sliding through button hole. Dottore sighs happily as he repositions the table and himself, making sure that Dainsleif has an even better view of the way that he slots himself between your thighs. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel Dottore’s cock slap against the bare skin; the wet, slick head of him, as he rubs it over your own soft inner thighs. You burn with humiliation, as the wet pap of him slapping the cockhead against your cunt echoes in Dottore’s workshop, and the Doctor keeps smiling as if he’s enjoying himself terribly.

“How about,” he says, loud enough for Dainsleif to hear it, “before we begin, you tell me what I want to hear, Traveller?”

You blink at him slowly, as he pushes his hips forward, and the head of his cock catches on the ring of your entrance; as your body clenches and puckers, waiting for him to move further forward. You wish he would just get on with it, but at the same time you wish that this wouldn’t happen. If you were fully in control of your body, you’re certain you would be struggling and sobbing and spitting - but you are not.

“Oh,” he murmurs, syrupy sweet. “You don’t know what I mean? Darling, let me say it a little simpler whilst you’re still all addled from me making you come . . . Loud enough for the Twilight Sword to hear, now. Why don’t you tell me you love me?”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence.

It’s not really silent; there’s a buzzing in your ears, there’s a constant hum from the machinery that surrounds you both, there’s the sound of three people breathing within the room, panting and seething and hating . . . but that’s how it feels.

You would never tell this monster you loved him.

But Dottore is still looking at you, his cock still pressing against your entrance, his head still tilted to one side, his mouth still quirked in a smile - and there’s an eager kind of obsession in his gaze, as if he thinks you might actually get the words out--

The pulsing in your ear. The flash across your brain. You can’t breathe; you can’t think, through anything but the sudden desire to tell the Doctor who’s about to ruin you that you love him.

Your tongue is slow. Heavy. Your voice echoes too loud around the room.

“Doctor . . .” Dainsleif lets out a pained whine behind the gag. “I-- I love you--”

“Oh, good-- well done--!”

Dottore pants in wild pleasure at the sound of your voice, the way it sounds desperate and reedy not with hate, but with feeling. He cants his hips forward, still too wild - and your head falls back, a whine escaping your slow-tongued mouth as his entire cock sheaths itself inside of you in excitement.

It’s easier to close your eyes.

You do not want to see Dainsleif, over Dottore’s shoulder - the disappointment and horror and despair that’s written clear across his handsome face. He must have seen the Akasha pulse, he must know that you would never say such a thing of your own volition - but that doesn’t stop the fact that you did say it, and he did hear it. Eyes squeezed shut, the feel of him inside you is all the worse; the way you can sense your body tightening around him, the feel of being stretched wider than you’ve been stretched before.

Dottore’s pants do not let up; there’s a desperation in him that you would never have thought the Doctor possible of - bringing a horrifying kind of truth to all of those things he had said, all of the ways he had stared at you. Perhaps it is more than just lust--

And that makes it all the worse.

His hips judder against yours in desperation, his white coat rustling as it rubs against your own bare body. One of his hands explores your chest, even as he keeps rutting into you; thumbs pinching at your nipples, palming at your hips and your waist and your chest, as if he cannot truly believe this is happening.

He is undone, like this; and you cannot quite believe he is letting you see some of those walls fall down. There is no more the strong, smooth Doctor - the one who could raze cities to the ground if he so chose. There is a man; a man who is fucking into you, a man who wants to have as much of your body as he can, a man who seems to want to devour you.

You cannot believe he made you say that you love him. The Akasha upon your ear feels like a parasite, worming its way into your psyche, taking complete control of you. You think of Dainsleif, forced to watch, and a juddering sob manages to tear itself from your throat.

Dottore kisses your cheek, the tears catching on his lips, his tongue tracing the saltwater tracks.

“Don’t fret so, darling,” Dottore murmurs, against the apple of your cheek. “It’s alright . . . Doesn’t it feel good?”

It doesn’t - and it does. You don’t want to admit to the way that his constant thrusting and the grinding of his pelvis against your still-swollen clit are working together to make your insides churn, your body feverishly hot and confused. Your breath comes out in pants that match Dottore’s own. You can’t come for him again, you simply can’t - it doesn’t matter, you try and tell yourself, that there is heat bursting anew in your stomach. That it is not really because of Dottore, but natural biology--

You came earlier, yes, but Dottore told you to; used the Akasha against you. If you came now, without him forcing you to, it does not bear to think about - it doesn’t bear to think about how Dain might react, if he watched you come of your own volition under Dottore’s fucking--

No matter how sternly you try to speak to yourself, one cannot stop biology in its tracks.

Dottore’s pelvis batters against your clit; Dottore’s cock bullies itself mercilessly into you, as if it is trying to make you mould to the shape of him. With each thrust, it rubs against spots inside of you that your own fingers have never been able to reach; ones you had never realised would feel so good. You try and tell yourself, over and over and over, that you will not let yourself come for Dottore.

But your body betrays you.

Your body betrays both yourself and Dain, a man who you had always thought would be the only one to ever do this to you, though you had not let your fantasies yet get further than a hand over your dress, skimming your bare thigh. You come for the second Fatui Harbinger, as he continues to fuck into you with wild abandon - and this time, you do not even have the Akasha to blame it upon.

Your wrists are still held either side of your head by restraints; all you can do, as the spasms of pleasure resonate out from your sex and into every other part of you, is dig your nails into your palms. All you can do is let out a heavy, slurred whine-moan escape from your parted lips. All you can do is take it - come for the Doctor, the way he always knew you were going to.

“Fuck,” he growls, and his hips double their speed, desperately rutting into you. “I didn’t even have to tell you to, that time - you want me just as badly, don’t you? Oh, sweet thing, don’t worry, I’ll give you everything I have--”

His words are slurred too; he is too far gone within the euphoria of finally being inside of you. His hips rock into you, harder and harder, his cock twitching wildly as he hisses out your name.

He comes inside of you with a wild bite into your bare shoulder, grunting and groaning, more animal than scientist - proof that, beneath it all, he is just a man. He remains there, humming into your skin, his cock softening inside of you. His tongue licks across the bite on your shoulder as if he wants to remember the taste of you.

“Why,” he says, a pleased hum in the back of his throat. His cock twitches. “I think I might even do that again--”

There’s a knock on the door.

You are still too out of it after what Dottore did to you to register much beyond his frustration that he is being called back to Snezhnaya, now of all times. An awkward assistant, unsure of what they’re supposed to be doing, lingers by Dottore’s side as the Doctor grumbles under his breath and pulls your clothes back on over your bruised body, his come still leaking out from between your thighs.

“I’ll see you again,” Dottore says to you, with a smile, as he brandishes another syringe. “Oh, I won’t be forgetting about how much we shared any time soon, darling. You’ll keep me warm many a cold Snezhnayan night.”

The syringe is brought up to your elbow; the liquid injected directly into the vein once again. You barely have time to wonder what he is injecting you with this time before the heaviness of unconsciousness begins to blur the corners of your vision.

Dottore strides across the room to Dainsleif, another syringe glowing within his gloved fingers.

Before you slip into oblivion, you watch Dottore roll up Dainsleif’s sleeve, and you hear him say this;

“Now, I’m sending them back with you, Knight - but you won’t soon forget, will you, that they told me that they loved me?”

You slip into the abyss.

You wake back up at the camp you and Dainsleif had established, on the edges of Sumeru, as safe as the two of you could find - as if absolutely nothing has happened.

Oh, there’s the lingering reminder of Dottore - there’s a soreness to your thighs, there are bites on your shoulders, there’s a muzzy headache from the drugs and the way he had used the Akasha upon you . . . but other than that, there’s nothing. The system itself isn’t even attached to your ear any longer.

Dain, too, has reminders of the ordeal upon him - rope burn on his wrists. A burning look in his eyes when his gaze falls upon you that makes your insides crawl in fear, lest he be disgusted by you now - lest he never want to look at you again. Perhaps, you think wildly, he is going to cast you away - say that the two of you can no longer travel together, accuse you of being damaged goods . . .

It does not end that way.

Dainsleif stares at you across the clearing after waking up, as if he is trying to sort all of his thoughts out. His fingers twitch, his eyes raking over you desperately - and then he has moved, lightning quick, and his arms have wrapped around you and you are being crushed against the weight of his chest.

“I thought . . .” He whispers into your ear, his voice so broken it makes you ache. “Oh, I can’t believe he would . . . I’m so sorry--”

“You couldn’t have done anything,” you whisper to him - relieved to find that your tongue and your throat are once more capable of working. You reach up to touch his face, and Dain groans, torn between leaning into the touch and pulling away as he so often does, so worried that he’s somehow going to taint you.

You’re not sure if you could ever feel more tainted than you do right now.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” his voice cracks. Dainsleif is normally so stoic and solid; you cling to him as you journey through Teyvat, relying on him. Seeing him like this makes you ache.

“You won’t,” you reach for his hand, take it gently and place it over your collarbone, shivering at the touch of his glove on your skin. “See? I’m still here.”

Dain sighs again, his lashes fluttering closed against his sculpted cheekbones. He murmurs your name again, so softly you can barely hear it; and his fingers slide along the imprint of that same collarbone, to your shoulder, until they find the place Dottore had bitten into when he had come.

“I can’t bear seeing his marks on you,” he whispers. “I want to scrub you free of every touch.”

You close your own eyes and let yourself be lulled into Dainsleif’s arms; you let your head rest against his chest, you let yourself be comforted by the familiar scent of him. His fingers don’t stop tracing the bite marks, his touch getting more and more agitated.

“Dain--” You murmur. You’re suddenly so tired. You know you were just unconscious, but that’s not the same as getting real rest. This morning - or was it this morning? How long were the two of you really with Dottore? How long had it been before Dainsleif had come to find you? Whatever the case, it seems a hundred years ago now.

You wonder if Dainsleif would mind if you fell asleep on him, right here.

“Please,” Dain’s lowered his head now. His breath flutters against your ear; delicately tickling your ear. “Let me . . . Let me make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” you murmur, but it clearly means a lot to Dainsleif, and you do not mind the gentle touch of his hands as they smooth softly over the places Dottore has bitten, the places you have bruised. Dainsleif has lost so many people, after all - you do not blame him for wanting to check on you. You nestle your head under Dain’s chin and he takes a shuddering breath, inhaling the scent of your hair. “Do I still smell like myself?”

“Don’t joke,” his voice breaks. You don’t know how else to cope with it; the thought of Dottore’s hands all over you, the reminder of what the Doctor took from you. Dain’s hand slips under the bodice of your dress.

You go all-over cold, all-over still.

Dainsleif doesn’t even notice. His hand gently travels further down, further down, squeezing the weight of your breast in his hand. Your fingers twitch where they lay against him, cradled as you are in his arms - but Dainsleif is still murmuring to himself now, lost in a frenzy of his own thoughts, and for the first time you feel afraid of him.

“Dain--” You try to say, throat clogged. “Dain, don’t--”

“Please,” he repeats, ragged. “I just . . . I need to touch you. I need to know you’re here. I need to know he didn’t--��

You can’t do this. Your heart jumps into your throat, a sickening thumping beat as Dain’s thumb rubs a circle over your nipple and traitorous body, it responds to him just as it had to Dottore.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you,” Dainsleif whispers, broken into your ear. “Let me . . . I won’t hurt you . . .”

His other hand, pulling you further into his lap. Holding you spoon-fashion against him, like a lover.

You wouldn’t complain, ordinarily.

But now . . .

All you want is for him to hold you. All you want is for him, you think, to kiss your forehead and reassure you and take care of you. The way his hands keep travelling over your skin - the other is kneading at the flesh of your thigh now, his breath coming in those same great shuddering pants as if he doesn’t have full control over his own body right now. You whimper aloud as his hand brushes further, further--

You’re not wearing underwear. Not after Dottore had torn it at the seams.

Dainsleif sighs.

“It killed me seeing him touch you,” he whispers into your hair, dropping a kiss onto the top of your head, disgustingly tender. His fingers are petting at your folds, his arms iron-tight like the ropes that had wrapped around him earlier. He doesn’t notice that you’re trembling; he ignores the soft little entreaties you do manage to get out.

“I can’t,” you say, as Dainsleif tugs at your nipples.

“Dain--” you whimper, his fingers spreading the lips of your sex apart.

“Not yet,” you beg, as he drops a kiss over the bruising bites Dottore left on your shoulders.

“I wish I could cover you with myself,” Dainsleif says, as he continues to use his mouth and his fingers and acts as though he does not hear a word. “But . . . oh, I don’t deserve you . . . Not yet . . . Please, let me make sure you never think of him again--”

It’s too much. Too much, too soon, your body churning with feelings and your mind churning with thoughts that you can’t yet put in place, because Dainsleif is touching you and not listening to you and you wonder if this makes him just like Dottore, in his way.

You think about yourself, in Sumeru City, your smile bright, laughing off his concern - and you think about Dainsleif now, his touch so possessive and so desperate that he’s going to cover the bruises Dottore left with bruises of his own.

“I’ll be fine,” you had said. I can take care of myself.

Dainsleif takes care of you, when you cannot; when you are injured or sick or lost. You have always had him to rely on; your travelling companion through Teyvat, as you desperately tried to make sense of the world that you have found yourself in.

Here, though . . .

You think, as the tears roll down your face, you could do without Dainsleif taking care of you like this.

#writing #dark content for ts #non con for ts #dead dove do not eat #mind control for ts #dub con for ts #genshin impact posting #commissioned work #not sfw text

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zikkytheblicky · 3 months

Text

ofcc!! srry this is late.

☆ for my ml, angel anon.

(NON-BLACK PEOPLE DNI. THE SLUR IS USED MULTIPLE TIMES)

⊹content warnings⊹

(don't scroll past this, it's important since i changed up gojo n’ geto + readers attitude 😃)

- both gojo and geto blasian so dont be surprised if you hear suguru’s racist comments and satoru and suguru js speaking ghetto ☠️..

-feminine male reader- anon didnt specify but id they want me to change this i will make a separate post for them 🫶🏾!!

-black reader cuz angel anon is black.

-not smut nor fluff.. i forgot if this type of stuff is called lemon or lime! sorry 😭💓.

-reader gets kinda aggressive im ngl to you like he did not take gojos little antic lightly

-kinda made reader gojo n suguru ghetto. idk i didnt think ts with much thought

-gojo tries to get his lick back, forgetting you were a real 🥷🏾 despite being feminine. he needs to stop playing with m!reader fr

-you’re very spoiled because i’m a SUCKERERR for spoiled reader x jjk character.

-this is not proofread i’m so sorry 😭!! + i did this like at 11-4 or sum

-sadly anon didn’t specify if they wanted top surgery reader or not so to be safe i’m just gonna say he does!!

-use of you/your pronouns except for when gojo is yapping/complaining to you’re brattiness to getou.

-no sourcerer au.

-rich gojo (SHOCKING 😨)

a/n: i hate this piece it sounds so tacky 😭..

♡︎NOT CAPITALIZED ON PURPOSE !!

to say you weren’t usually bratty is an understatement— it rarely happens unless you’re joking or you’re being bratty towards someone else not gojo.

it all happened first, when gojo took you to get your nails done and you didn’t give him your signature move for when he gives you something you want— pulling on his collar/tie and kissing on his cheek along with a sweet, “thank you satoru ! i love you! see you later!” or something along those lines— you instead give him a mere glance and a dry, bored “bye, gojo.” before walking over to your bestfriend(s) who were also getting their nails done. and by the way you were giggling into your palm when you thought satoru left shows you were trying to get him riled up.

satoru thought it was cute ,

at first. then it started getting him annoyed and a bit triggered.

and what does he do when he doesn’t agree with something you do?

…

obviously don’t tell you about it and instead goes to bother his best friend- suguru- about it instead.

“he’s been acting so bratty suguru. i remember when i got him his favorite color of glittery roses and all he did was say a dry response like, “oh thanks, gojo.” HE DIDN’T EVEN SAY SATORU OR A PET NAME RAGGHH” satoru screamed out into his phone microphone, his eyes puffy from all the fake crying he did earlier.

“don’t you have work to do? also he’s just going through a phase satoru, you’ll live.” suguru said dryly, the sound of the clicking of a keyboard and the sounds of a pen being smoothly dragged across a paper filling satoru’s apple headphones.

“you wouldn’t understand suguru..” satoru whined, blinking his bright blue eyes at the camera. His pouting lips sucking up the last bit of juice from his drink.

“all you have to do is punish him y’know?” suguru muttered, he shuts his book staring at satoru with a disgusted face. “Ew . stop pouting your lips while making fuckin sucking motions you look like a monk.” suguru sniffed, grabbing his bonnet and putting his hair up.

“i dont wanna hurt himmmm-“ satoru whined, ignoring suguru’s racist comment.

“not like that, durdur.”

satoru could practically hear the roll of geto’s eyes as he saw the younger dark skinned man pick up his phone and turn off his camera- most likely about to get ready for bed- it was 11 am after all.

“in a sexual way, nigga.” suguru mumbled out, the sounds of crinkling sheets flowing in and out of satoru’s ears nicely.

“oh my god… suguru you mastermind.” gojo smirked, grabbing his macbook and opening it swiftly.

“jesus christ what are you gonna do, satoru?” suguru asked with a sigh, rubbing his temple soothingly- he sounded so tired of gojo’s antics.

“ight so the plan is..”

it is late. you just got home from an interview of what life is like being satoru gojo’s husband— you hate those types of reporters. instead of worrying about what the content of your creator was, they worried about your status. oh, how annoying they are.

you kick off your jordans, rubbing your eyes gently- thankfully you didn’t put on any eyeliner.

you head into the first kitchen on the first floor, went into the pantry and took out a fruit snack before you head upstairs- when you were pulling up into your driveway all of gojo’s cars were in his drive so you know he is home.

i’m surprised he isn’t cuddling up on me already.. You thought with a snort, twisting your curls in boredom.

your curls bounce as you skip your way up the carpeted stairs, entering you and gojo’s shared room.

“satoru-.”

there, you say your husband in a thin, silky robe, nike pro boxers on, his 24 carat gold stud earrings glistening in the low light the seeped into the room, a thin 24 carat gold necklace, and slides on. he was at his desk, typing away on his phone, he didn’t even notice you until you cleared your throat, crossing your arms over your chest.

the albino haired man lazily turned over to you, a bored look on his face though you could see a faint smirk on your husband’s face.

what is this nigga smirking for ? you thought with a scoff, your slippers making loud noises as you walk over to him.

“oh. hi, ‘mn’.” satoru’s tone was bored and disinterested, he went back onto his phone and started typing quickly. and he had such an excited expression, a ghost of a smile on his lips like he was trying to hide the fact that he was more interested in whoever he was texting instead of you.

and that pissed you off. like who the fuck is this nigga talkin too that catches his attention more than you? his boyfriend ?

that damn phone i'm about to throw that shit.

“satoru.”

no answer.

“satoru?”

no answer again. who the fuck was this negro on the phone with?

“SATORU-“ you yelled, pulling his ear out from his bonnet- being careful not to pull his earring out. sure, you were annoyed at him but you aren’t going to hurt him.

“what the fuck- what? damn.” gojo groaned, putting his phone screen to his chest with an annoyed glare.

who the fuck does he think hes talking too?

“nigga who do you think you’re talking to? i’m not the one stop trippin’.” you crossed your arms, releasing satoru’s ear.

“what did i even do?” satoru responded too calmly- the fucker had a visible smirk on his face too.

silence .

silence is what you “responded” with before smashing your lips with satoru’s, grabbing his white dreads and rubbing his scalp gently- completely opposite from your prior action.

satoru’s tongue licked almost every corner of your mouth, tasting the bitter vodka taste left in your mouth.

you both pulled away with a string of spit following each other's mouths.

“don’t dish out the heat if you cannot take the heat back, darling~!” satoru purred out, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you into his lap.

you tsked in response, resting your head on his neck.

and maybe later that night satoru punishes you by forcing you to cockwarm him for an hour straight.

(you failed after 10 minutes.)

ts is short asl ik but like 🙁

#male reader #x male reader #gojo satoru x male reader #ftm reader #black male reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #jjk x male reader #jjk

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seeingivy · 8 months

Note

Hi!! Can you do an angsty song fic for “hits different” with Gojo? Love the ts series !!❤️

hits different

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: older brothers best friend!satoru, teenagers being dumb teenagers, drinking, satoru calls reader belle, reader spends a fuck ton of money on toji's credit card

an: HELLO SWEETIE PIE!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR DA LOVE IM GLAD YOU'VE BEEN ENJOYING IT SO FAR. this ended up at a 9k so I hope you enjoy pookie

present day

“Are you even listening to anything I’m saying?” he asks, his hands folded across his menu.

You close your own menu, setting it neatly on top of the plates, as you look over at him - the look in his eyes downright murderous. Granted, sticking your nose in the menu while he was trying to talk to you for the past twenty minutes couldn’t have helped, but he should cut you some slack. You’re really hungry.

It’s then and there that you see the look, that twitch in his right eye, and know exactly what’s going to happen. Toji Fushiguro, the accountant you’ve been dating for the last six months, is about to break up with you.

“It’s like you aren’t even paying attention when I talk to you, when I’m trying to sit here and tell you how I’m feeling.”

“Okay. So tell me how you’re feeling, Toji.”

He flares his nostrils, exasperated by your response. You thought it was polite. But you’ve been told your tone is downright argumentative, like grating nails on a chalkboard.

And then Toji lays out his final card, waiting for your broken expression.

“I’m breaking up with you. You-you and me. We’re done.”

No broken expression comes. Because you don’t let idiots like Toji think they have power over you, your feelings for even a second.

“Okay. Well, I still came here to eat dinner so could you pass me the main menu?”

You give him your best smile, sickly sweet, and it pushes him over the edge.

“Are you fucking serious? You’re not going to say anything to that? Anything at all? I just broke up with your pathetic ass and you don’t even feel a bit sad about it?”

You set the menu down again, crossing your wrists against your chest.

“Do you want me to, Toji? Because I can if you want me to.”

He gets even more frustrated, standing up at the table to yell his final words before he storms out.

“Do you know what your problem is, Y/N?”

“Please enlighten me. I’m dying to know.”

“You-you’re shit to be around. Literally the most frustrating, agitating, irritating person I’ve ever met. You can’t ever take anything at face value - you just argue and argue because it’s the only thing you know how to do. True love could knock on your door and you’d send it running away with that cold, dark heart in your chest. Because you’re hard to love.”

You clench your fists under the table, drawing blood against your palms.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t as agreeable as you wanted me to be. Surely the secretary you’ve been fucking for the last three months we were dating is a sweeter taste in your mouth than I am.”

“Wait, what-”

“If you’re going to fuck another girl while you’re dating me, make sure you don’t butt dial me while you’re doing it, sweetheart.”

He furrows his brow, ears pink from what you’re sure is embarrassment as he storms off. You turn your head over your neck, lifting your hand to signal Nobara, Megumi, and Itadori to join you at the table.

They all awkwardly take the empty seats at the table, Itadori immediately reaching for the free bread on the table and Megumi reaching for the bottle of wine.

“You okay?” Megumi asks, a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Toji has this really, really shit habit of leaving his stuff everywhere. His sunglasses, his keys, his wallet.”

You hold the wallet in the air, Nobara immediately snatching it from your hands and pulling out his credit card.

“No way.” she says, immediately running through the menu to find the most expensive thing to eat.

“He’ll cancel it tomorrow. So, we should make the most of it tonight.” you say, the three of them smiling back at you.

“You know, I’d feel half bad about this but he cheated on you for three months, so I really, really don’t.” Megumi says, ordering another bottle of wine.

Itadori puts his hand on yours, squeezing once as he asks.

“Are you sad about it?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, come on. She’s heartless. Ever since that idiot she dated from her hometown took her heart and went running with it, she’s been cold ever since.” Kugisaki says, spreading the leftover butter on the bread she just stole from Itadori.

“Exactly.” you say, smiling at the three of them.

You tilt the rest of your wine into the back of your throat, the sensation burning as you push it down.

You hate that after all these years, even the mention of him makes your head spin.

Satoru.

two years ago

“Go fuck yourself, Y/N.”

“Real clever, Getou. You really got me there.”

Getou immediately knocks you off your chair and starts wrestling with you on the ground - the two of you yanking each other’s arms and pulling each other's legs.

“Cut your hair, Getou. You look like a hillbilly with that uglyass manbun.”

“Check your attitude, Y/N. You’re getting bitchier as time goes on.”

You immediately reach up and grab a fistful of his hair, yanking hard as he elbows you in the eye. And you’re about to punch him straight in the stomach before you feel two arms around your waist, the hold firm, as you fight off the hold.

“That’s enough from you two, alright?” Satoru says, his voice in your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

“It’s not enough, Satoru. I need to give him a piece of my mind.”

“You’re going to give him a piece of your mind with your fist, princess?”

He finally lets you go, Shoko mimicking his actions as she lets Getou go on the other side of the kitchen. You’re both glaring bloody murder at each other, the stupid look on his ugly face only enraging you more.

“Quit calling me princess, it’s stupid.” you murmur, lifting your hands up to fix the mess Getou made of your hair.

“Cmon, Belle. Don’t be like that.”

You cringe at the nickname, even worse than princess, as the memory comes straight to your mind. Third grade. Halloween Eve.

You were going to be Cinderella for Halloween - all set with fake glass slippers and a sparkly blue dress and butterfly hair clips. But Getou and Satoru had come home straight from their soccer practice, all muddy and disgusting, and accidentally sat on your costume.

The pretty blue dress you had saved all your allowance on was ruined and along with it, your hopes of impressing Haibara - the guy that you had a crush on at the time.

Except Satoru, in his infinite kindness that he’s always shared with you, dragged you to the costume store the day after, his hands wrapped around your waist as he biked the two of you there in the scorching midday October heat.

“Do you guys have any Cinderella dresses left?”

“They’re all sold out. We’re so sorry, sir.”

As the clerk walks away, Satoru turns over to you, a giddy smile on his face.

“Did you hear that? That lady just called me sir.”

“Really funny, Satoru.”

You push him into the stand by the cashier, as you stomp to the other side of the store. You look up at the little catalogs, the sparkly blue dress in the picture with a red “sold out” sign stamped on top of it. He catches up, his hand soft on your shoulder, as he talks.

“Sorry we messed up your dress, Y/N.”

You can feel the tears building in your eyes as you start aggressively swiping them away, trying to hide the fact that you were crying in front of Satoru. Knowing him, he was just going to run home and tell Getou so the two of them could laugh at you.

“No, you’re not. You probably did it on purpose.”

“We didn’t, I-I swear.”

“Getou literally told me yesterday that he thought it was stupid I wanted to be a princess for Halloween. That girls like me aren’t princesses, because they have a rotten attitude. He said I should dress up as the Scream instead.”

You look over at the ghost mask - all elongated and scary - and it only sends more tears running down your face.

“Hey. You can still be a princess if you want to be.” he says.

“No, I can’t. Because you guys ruined the costume I already did buy. And I don’t have the money for another one because I-I spent my entire allowance on that costume.”

Satoru pulls out his wallet and brings his hand down to yours, placing the crisp dollar bills in your hand. You look over at him and he’s smiling - the tips of his ears pink.

“Now you have money for the costume.”

“There’s still no costume, dumbass.”

Satoru drags you down the aisle and points at the sparkly yellow dress, his hand now slung around your shoulder again.

“They still have this one.”

“Belle? You want me to be Belle?”

“You’re more of a Belle than Cinderella. Getou’s right in the sense that you’re a little bit too harsh to be a Cinderella type.”

“Geez. Thanks Satoru.”

“But you’re smart, ambitious, headstrong enough to be a Belle. Cinderella’s the type of bitch to always back down from a fight. Belle on the other hand fights for what she wants, like you.”

You look over at him and smile, your heart pounding in your chest as the two of you biking back to the house with the sparkly yellow dress in the bag in between you guys.

“Just don’t fight to date a literal animal like Belle, okay? That’s bestiality.”

“Shut up, Satoru.”

You feel a hand on your head, shaking hard, and grounding you back in the moment. And at your irritation at Getou, who's still hurling insults at you from the other side of the room.

“She started it, Shoko.” he says.

“No, I didn’t. You’re the dumbass who-” you start.

“I’m so fucking sick of you, Y/N. You’re always fucking nagging me in some way or another. You know, I heard you crying the other day about how you’re the only girl in your class who's never had a guy like you. Maybe if you took a look in the fucking mirror you’d realize why. You’re insufferable to be around.”

You can feel the tears welling in your eyes - hot and angry - as you bolt straight out the door and down the street. You can faintly hear the three of them calling for you, but you reach straight for the bike on the curb and go as far as you can.

You make your way five blocks down from your house to eventually stop at the lake, resting the bike against the dock before you walk down. You take your shoes off and dip your feet in, watching the sun fall behind the water and the sky turn brilliant, beautiful shades of pink, orange, and yellow.

And when dark blue starts creeping in, you lay back against the dock and watch the stars trickle into the night sky, hundreds of tiny sparkling lights. Except your view of the sky is then obscured by Satoru’s face, upside down from your vantage point.

“Hi Belle.”

“Screw off.”

He sits down, taking his own shoes off and dipping his feet into the water to lie down next to you.

“Did you have to take my bike when you ran off? Yours was two feet away from it.”

“Closest one. Cry about it, Satoru.”

You both sit in silence, save for the sound of your feet splashing in the water as Satoru breaches the topic.

“Never had a guy like you, huh?”

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that? First, you watch Getou literally rip me a new one for no reason and now you’re here to rub it in my face?”

“You know that wasn’t what I was doing. Have I ever made fun of you like that?”

You sit up, running your hands through your hair, as you look down at the water, your leg sending ripples far beyond. You swallow hard, the tears rising to your eyes again.

“No, Satoru. I haven’t had a guy like me like that. I’m the only girl going into senior year who hasn’t been kissed by a guy.” you whisper, the confession making you turn red with embarrassment.

Satoru sits up, scooting closer to you so your knees are knocking each other, as you both look down at the water.

“So why’s that a big deal, Y/N? You’ve never cared about what people think, let alone men. I mean, you’re basically a misandrist at this point.”

You smile, looking over at his blue eyes, almost indiscernible in the dark of the night.

“It’s a big deal because I want someone to like me. I-I know that you all think I’m mean and I argue all the time and-and whatever, maybe it’s true. But, I want someone to like me. You know, butterflies, first kisses, someone who saves all their secret jokes for you.”

He puts his hand flat against your forehead, like he’s checking your temperature.

“You feeling okay? Who are you and what have you done with, Y/N?”

You shake his hand off, rolling your eyes at him, as you both laugh into the night.

“You’re so mean, Satoru. I hate you.”

He lifts one of his legs out of the water and turns to his side, so that he’s facing you. You mimic his motions, the look on your face bored as you look over at him.

“I’m going to tell you something, and it’s going to wound my ego a little bit, so don’t tell anyone okay?”

“You with a wounded ego? I would live for the day.”

He lightly nudges you before turning back down to the water, swishing the water with his legs.

“What you said isn’t true, Belle.”

“What part?”

“About going into highschool and not having a guy like you.”

“That guy who chased me around in first grade doesn’t count because he literally thought I was-”

He brings his hands down on your face, squishing your cheeks so hard that you can’t get another word out. His eyes are closed, his face only a few feet from yours.

“Princess, I really, really love it when you argue with me like that but can you please just let me finish?” he whispers, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

You nod as he lets go, giving you a satisfied smile. He turns his head back to the water, leaning over the dock.

“That guy in first grade did like you. And I like you too.”

He looks over and smiles and it makes your blood burn. You lift your hands to cover your pink face, the implication of the entire thing making your stomach burn with anxiety, embarrassment, and the gross, mushy gushy feelings you’ve had for Satoru for years. For the boy who always came to your defense when you’re fighting Getou, always came to your aid when you were crying, and the only, only person you’ve never argued with.

“So quit crying about it, okay? My type has always been girls like you.”

“Girls like me?”

“Argumentative.”

You nod as Satoru stands up, holding his hand out. And ignore the pounding in your chest when his skin touches yours. You both walk your bikes - you pushing his bike and him pushing yours back down the blocks as you cheese at each other in the dark, sharing a secret smile before Satoru ducks back into Getou’s room.

three months later

You push up on the counter, swirling the cup of lemonade in your hand as you watch everyone mill around the party.

Your parents went out of town on a business trip. Getou throws the biggest party of the summer. And specifically tells you to stay in your room, because no one likes freshmen at a party.

Yet here you are, drinking lemonade and watching everyone mill around the party. Getou’s trying too hard to hit on a girl way older than him and Shoko and Utahime are so blatantly flirting that its giving you physical pain to watch them pine the way they are any longer.

But there’s one person you haven’t seen. Satoru.

He should have been back from his family trip to Tokyo for the summer since school was starting next week and there’s no way that he would miss anything that Getou and Shoko planned.

Even the thought of him makes your heart race, his swift admission of his feelings for you that were all but unrequited right before he left. You feel a tap on your shoulder, throwing you out of your thoughts.

“Hey. Can you hand me a cup?”

You halfheartedly smile as you reach over, handing her a cup from behind you. She gives you a smile as she swirls through the random potion Getou was serving - a dark purple color. You’re sure there’s an unfathomable amount of liquor mixed in and that it tastes disgusting.

“You want some?”

“I’m good. Getou poisoned that for all I know.” you mutter, which elicits a laugh from her.

“Interesting guy. He’s cute, right?”

You gag, the thought making the lemonade you just drank roll over in your stomach.

“Disgusting. He’s my older brother.”

She laughs, pushing up on the counter to sit with you and smiles.

“My bad. He’s ugly, downright horrendous.”

“Thank you.”

You smile as you look over at her, her eyes scanning the mess of people in front of you two.

“Oh shit. Wait, you’re Y/N, right? Satoru was talking about you.”

And any good feeling you have is now replaced with a green, jealous monster. And that part of you - the one that argues, the one that feels bitter, anger so powerfully is fighting its way out.

“Y-yeah. How do you know Satoru?”

“I don’t. I just met him upstairs. I almost puked in your room but he stopped me, helped me to the bathroom, and held my hair for a while while I threw up.”

“He’s a real nice guy, isn’t he?” you say, the sarcasm dripping from you voice.

Of course the asshole shows up to your house and flirts with another girl in your bedroom. Typical.

“Yeah. Cute too.”

Just then, Satoru and Getou walked up to you - with complete opposite expressions on their faces. Satoru is shining like the sun, his cheeks tinted pink which you’re sure is from drinking. And Getou’s glaring at you like there’s no tomorrow, his forehead scrunched up in irritation.

“Y/N.”

“Getou.”

“What are you drinking?”

“Lemonade.”

Getou snatches the cup from your hand and sets it down and by the look on his face, you know he’s about to start a fight with you.

“Are you fucking dense? That’s not lemonade, dumbass.”

“Do you think I was born yesterday, idiot? I took it from the unopened bottle in the fridge.”

“You shouldn’t be here right now. You’re too young to be here.”

“You’re one year older than me, Getou. And don’t throw a party in my house if you don’t want me here.”

Satoru puts a hand on Getou’s shoulder, whispering something in his ear until he gives you one last glare and walks away. Satoru gives you a big smile but before he can talk, the girl from before cuts him off.

“Do you want to dance now? I promise I got all my vomit out earlier so I won’t throw up this time.”

She gives him a big smile, and you swear Satoru’s considering it by the way he pauses and looks at her, which is enough said for you. You push up off the counter, telling them you’ll be right back and run off to the lake again, this time stealing Getou’s bike from the curb.

You’re pushing your legs so hard that they’re hurting, the tears biting cold against your skin from how fast you’re going in the middle of the night. And when you make it to the dock, you throw his bike against the grass and angrily kick your shoes off as you start taking your clothes off.

Is it a good idea to go skinny dipping in the middle of the night, alone? No. But is every human person that would come to this park at the party? Yes.

Which is the only reason you take the plunge and stare up at the moon, a tiny silver crescent in the sky. You hear a splash behind you after a few minutes and are met with Satoru, wet hair matted on his forehead.

“Find your own lake, weirdo.”

“You know. You shouldn’t skinny dip in public. People could see you.”

You look over to his pile of clothes and shoes, neatly folded in the pile next to yours.

“Same goes for you, pervert.”

You roll your eyes at him as you cross your hands across your chest, turning to your back so you don’t have to look at him. He’s faster than you are, because suddenly he’s floating right in front of you, inches from your face.

“Did I hurt your feelings, princess?”

“Quit calling me that. It’s disgusting.”

He brings his hands to your face, pushing away the tangled wet mess of hair on your shoulders.

“You like it when I call you that.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do, Belle.”

“Satoru.”

“I’m not saying my piece till you say yours. And you want to hear mine, so talk.”

You take a deep breath as you look at his face - all calm and blank faced like he didn’t just do the biggest asshole move he could have.

“You’re a dick, you know that? First of all, you tell me all this shit about how you like me right before you leave. And then when you come back, the first thing I see is you talking to another girl? You were holding her hair in the bathroom, fondling god knows what in my bedroom and now you want to come here and skinny dip with me? I am not some consolation prize you get to have because she was bored of those ugly pool noodle dance moves you have and don’t ever think for a second that I will be.”

You finish, your chest heaving and a shiver running across your body from the cold water. And instead of a sincere, kind-hearted apology, an acknowledgement of what he did - Satoru Gojo is laughing in your face.

You reach forward to smack his face and he stops your hand in the air, tangling his fingers with yours.

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that?”

“You’re so fucking r-”

“Fondling? Pool noodle? Where do you even come up with this stuff?”

He brings his hands up to your cheeks and leans your head forward, pressing the softest kiss to your forehead. You can feel your head short circuiting at the sensation, your arms tingling from how close he is.

“You’re so, so ridiculous you know that? I’m never going to get tired of you.” he whispers, the words making your hair stand on their ends.

“What-you can’t just say that and-”

“Why do you think I was in your room?”

“What?”

“I was in your room, because I was looking for you. And I thought I was being nice by stopping that girl from puking all over your sheets - because I know you hate laundry and Getou isn’t going to do it for you - so I took her to the bathroom.”

You can feel the embarrassment rushing to your face for misreading the situation entirely, taking the palms of your hands and rubbing them into your eye sockets. He laughs as he tangles his hands around your wrists, placing them around his own neck.

“Still the only senior who hasn’t been kissed yet?”

“Huh?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. When I saw you last. Are you still the only senior who hasn’t been kissed yet?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. But I-”

“Good.”

He leans forward, tangling his hands around your waist as he presses his warm lips to yours, his hands squeezing you as he laughs into your mouth. You don’t have much to compare it to, but by the way he’s hanging off your lips, you can tell he’s eager. Way too eager - to be kissing you of all things.

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“I like you too.”

His face breaks out into a smile, so big that it makes you smile too. And when he cups his hand around your face again to kiss the tip of your nose, you can feel your insides screaming. For him.

“No telling Getou. He’s going to kill me, okay?”

“As if. He literally hates me, he’d be glad if-”

“No. He can’t know. You-you’re his little sister. If he finds out I even looked at you this way, he-he’d end me where I stand. Trust me, Belle. If I break my promise, he'll never talk to me again.”

“What promise?”

“When we were little. He made me promise I wouldn’t like you.”

“And yet here you are. Naked in a lake with me.”

“You like to argue. I like to break rules. We all have our vices, princess.”

You lean into his touch again, pressing your lips against his, as the moon shines a bright light on the two of you in the dark.

four months later

You and Getou awkwardly stand in the kitchen, by the open bottles of champagne, as you both secretly circle the glasses behind your back. Getou has his moments - and this is one of them. When your parents put you on display like shiny trophies for their coworkers, bragging about how smart the two of you are.

“You decided where you’re going yet?”

“Tokyo or Kyoto, Toto.”

“Toto. Ew. You haven’t called me that since we were little, idiot.”

He brings his hand around your shoulder, tucking you into his arm as you lean against his shoulder, smiling. After Getou really realized you’d be leaving at the end of the year, he’s been nicer. Granted, he still fights like hell but he has his odd moments. Like this one.

“You’ll always be Get-toto to me.”

“I’ll get you a little Totoro plushie before you go, okay? So when those bastards you date fight with you, you’ll always be reminded you have a little bitch in you ready to fight.”

“Why are you praying for my downfall? You’re not gonna manifest a sweet, warm love for me?”

“Please. The guy you end up with will be all fireworks. Soft fireplace love has never been your thing.”

He ruffles your hair as Satoru walks up, his tie loosened already. He gives you a smile and then shakes hands with Getou, the three of you leaning against the granite countertops, watching your parents mingle through the crowd.

“D’you pick yet? Because Tokyo’s the right choice, Belle.”

“I’m still thinking, Satoru.”

“C’mon. Imagine it - you joining me and Getou in Tokyo. It would be really fun.”

Satoru’s just trying to piss you off. He knows that you’ve already picked Tokyo, because it means you don’t have to long distance date anymore. No more driving up to see each other in between, getting pulled away from each other by the constraints of time or distance or really anything else.

One of the smaller girls at the party tugs the end of your dress, whispering in her ear that she wants warm milk, which you happily oblige with. Satoru and Getou stay in their spots as you start rummaging through the kitchen, picking out a little glass and warming up the milk for her.

“Honey?”

“Yes, love?” Satoru responds, turning his gaze over to you.

You feel your eyes widen and Satoru’s face turn red as he looks over at you, realizing you were asking the girl if she wanted honey in her milk and not calling him. You both look over to Getou, who has a very strange look on his face that you can’t really discern.

Fuck.

You hand the girl her milk and stand farthest away from Satoru, giving Getou a weak smile as you all stare at the party again.

“Look. It’s Shayla.”

You and Satoru crane your necks over the other side of the room, one of your neighbors daughters saying hello to all the guests. Which you’re sure you’re getting to get a lecture about now, since you didn’t want to spend the time saying hi to all of them.

“Remember when you had a really big crush on her, Satoru? Since we were kids?”

“Uh, yeah. But I was just really little, y’know.”

You can feel your throat drying as Getou pushes on, each word making your heart burn in your chest.

“Yeah, but. She was basically your first love. Who forgets that? Who compares to that?”

“I don’t know if I would say she was my first l-”

“Then who is, Satoru? Because it’s not my sister, right?” he asks, his voice firm.

Satoru said that he would tell Getou when you officially announced you were going to Tokyo. Because once you lived in the same city, nothing would stop you from being with him - not even his best friend.

“No, no, why would it be her? She’s been annoying us since we were little, arguing with us and all that. You-you’re right. It is her. Shayla’s always been my type.” he says, his gaze lowering to the floor.

You feel your heart sink, twist into a jumbled mess as Getou smiles and gestures for her to come over. There’s a fair amount of protests from Satoru as she walks over, which you know is him trying to save face. He deals his final blow the second she walks up, definitively and wholly breaking your heart into pieces.

When Getou starts setting the two of them up. When Satoru actually takes her number down. When she presses a kiss to his cheek and winks before she walks away.

“I have to pee, Toto. Cover for me?”

“Yeah, got it.”

And the second you walk away and Getou watches you wipe the tears from your face as you walk past, Getou knows he’s right.

“Getou. You have to-”

“No, Satoru. Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Wait, what- you can’t just-”

“She’s my little sister. She’s not some toy you get to play around with till you figure out how you feel. And you don’t get to embarrass her by hiding her away either.”

“We were going to tell you when she told you she’s going to Tokyo. You-you’re the reason I hid her away. I’ve liked her for years and I put that away because you didn’t want me with her. And now I-”

“Don’t blame your shortcomings on me. Even if you did have to hide it in front of me, I would never call the girl I loved annoying to her face and throw everything she’s hated about herself in her face to make a point.”

“I didn’t- Getou you’re the one who made her hate that about herself and-”

“You love her?”

“Obviously. Why would I go to the trouble of hiding something when-”

“Talk to her again and I will literally break your face. In what world do you treat someone you love like that?”

As Satoru watches Getou walk away and thinks about how hard you’re crying upstairs, he realizes he’s in his worst nightmare. Losing his best friend and the girl he loved on the same day.

You and Satoru make promises that day.

He promises that he’ll wear his heart on his sleeve from this day forward. You promise that you’ll tuck your heart away where no one can ever touch it again.

present day

“You’re no fun, Y/N.” Itadori says, pushing the paper into your space.

“And you suck at tic-tac-toe.” you respond, sliding it back.

Nobara and Megumi laugh as the three of you sink back into your chairs in the back of the conference room, your marketing manager droning on about stocks, the future of the company, and god knows what as you try to drone him out and focus on winning your seventh round of tic-tac-toe with Itadori. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t take much.

“And lastly, we’ve employed a new marketing manager to work with the sales team. The four of you back there can decide who he’s going to be working with for onboarding.” says Ijichi.

You nod as the four of you turn to each other, matching smirks on your face.

“Rock paper scissors?” Nobara asks.

“Deal.”

It’s not that you’d hate to work with the new marketing manager. But the past three marketing managers were driven out by the end of the month because of you guys.

Megumi was too harsh with the first girl, who left crying when he asked her if she got her marketing degree from a trash can. Nobara drove the second guy away when she found out he chewed too loudly while eating lunch, claiming that he wasn’t a good fit for the company. And Itadori drove the last girl away, because she fell in love with him and he didn’t return her feelings, which made her resign the next day.

“You know, logically. It’s your turn.” Megumi says, holding his fist up to Itadori.

“Nope. We honor the rock paper scissors tournament in this friendship.

You mince your words four rounds later because you’re the pouty loser getting stuck with the stupid marketing manager. You slide back into your chair as you massage your temples, preparing yourself for the upcoming headache for the next month.

Either a lover, an incompetent idiot, or a loud chewer.

Nobara and Itadori sling their hands around your shoulders, pinching your cheeks, as Ijichi swings the door open and the marketing manager walks in. He readjusts his tie - loosely hanging from his neck - and when you lift your head to actually make eye contact with him, you immediately sit up in your chair, your skin burning.

Because Satoru Gojo is no longer six thousand miles away in Tokyo - out of sight and out of mind. He’s three feet away from you - taller, older, and more attractive than the time you saw him last.

Everyone files out of the conference room, leaving the two of you standing miles away from each other, with you refusing to meet his eye. He walks up and holds his hand out, a shy smile on his face.

“Satoru Gojo.”

You put your hand in his - the touch warm, soft, all the way you remembered it.

“Y/N L/N.” you respond, mimicking his voice.

“Y/N, huh? You look more like a Belle to me.” he responds, smirking as he walks out to your cubicle labeled right across.

You stomp right out, following him into your cubicle, as he takes the seat across from yours and starts eating the candy in your jar. You roll your eyes as you smack his hand, the smile on his face so big it's pissing you off.

“Just so you know, there’s a very notorious reputation for running out the idiot who takes your position. And trust me, I’ll have you out by the end of the week.”

“Is that a challenge, princess?”

“You can’t flirt with me. I’m technically your boss, Satoru.”

“You like to argue. I like to break rules. We all have our vices, princess.” he says, sticking one of your caramel candies in your mouth before pushing off your desk and making his way down the other side of the office.

Six hours later, you’re face planting into the table at dinner, the words echoing through your mind. Along with all the memories you buried deep, deep down and tried to forget. Of running off to the lake all summer, Satoru washing your hair softly in the showers after, of nestling up in his arms to call it a day.

Of Satoru rubbing circles into your back every time you fought with someone, of you kissing him after every fight he had with his dad, of whispering I love you against each other's lips like it was a sacred oath.

“You look horrible.” Megumi says, sharing a judgemental look with Itadori.

“Shut up.”

“It’s just one of those lame interns. Just do what Nobara did - say he smells bad.” Itadori responds, the three of them laughing.

You dig your forehead into your forearms, only lifting your head to drink more of Itadori’s beer, as the thoughts race through your head.

In all honesty, the problem has always been easy to avoid. Two years ago, Satoru smashed your heart into tiny pieces. You decided that you wouldn’t go to Tokyo or Kyoto like you planned and picked up everything and moved to New York instead.

You didn’t say goodbye. To him or to anyone. Your parents drove you to the airport and Getou gave one of those weird, repressed older brother hugs and then you turned on your heel and never went back.

You have a nice job. Friends who love you. Your dating life is abysmal at most - a long stream of guys you’ve ghosted, fought, and broken up with. Unfazed, unperturbed - calm, cool, and collected.

It doesn’t bother you. Because you stuck by your promise. That you’ll tuck your heart away where no one can touch it. But it only takes five minutes of interaction with him and you can feel the concrete walls around your heart turning into clay, softened by the sweetness he’s always possessed, the softness he’s always shared with you.

You have to drive him out of here as fast as you can.

Seven weeks later and Satoru remains at the company, steadfast and true.

It drives you crazy, having him around. So up in your space, his smell lingering in your cubicle even after he walks away. He makes stupid jokes that make you smile so hard that you’re fighting the tears in your eyes and flirts with no shame like it’s breathing air.

All in all, he’s everything you loved about Satoru, in your head again. In an even more attractive body, because of course time is nice to the asshole and he’s fit in all the right places.

You ignore him the best you can, until you can’t anymore.

You make it down to the parking lot, your high heels in your hand as you unlock your car and start loading your stuff into the trunk.

That’s when you see him, slumped against his car with the hood popped open, with a very, very confused look on his face. You clear your throat loudly, which catches his attention.

“Oh. Heading out late, Y/N?”

“Looks like it. You?”

“Ah. I actually meant to leave early today but my car hasn’t been starting so.”

You take one look at his pouty face and give in. You slam the trunk of your car shut and whisper the words out, so fast that you can’t even think to regret them.

“Get in the car.”

“Huh?”

“Get in the car, Satoru. Unless you want to stay here for the rest of the weekend, then be my guest.”

He gives you the brightest smile you’ve seen as he all but jogs over and settles into the front seat of your car, slumping down in the seat that’s pushed all the way up. You back up out of the parking garage as he plugs in the address for his apartment, a modest thirty minutes away from the office.

“You know, you can move the chair back. I’m not going to bite your head off if you do.”

He laughs and you see his shoulders deflate as he adjusts the seat, his long legs now spread in the open compartment underneath him.

“What a shame. I’m into that type of thing, Y/N.”

“Always the perverted one, weren’t you?” you respond, smiling over at him.

Stop it, Y/N. Stop it.

“Who the hell sits up here anyway? A toddler?”

“Oh. It was just this guy I was talking to. He was really short but he always felt the need to monitor my driving so he pulled the seat all the way up to watch the lines.” you respond, turning left onto the street.

“Ah. One of your many romantic escapades, so I’m told. I’ve heard you’ve become quite the player, Y/N.” he says, leaning against the glass.

“Learned from the best, Satoru. Except this time, I don’t get overinvolved.” you respond.

He laughs, leaning back in the chair as you both fall into a comfortable silence, the tension hanging in the air eating at your skin. It hangs in the air, like an embarrassing elephant in the room.

Satoru’s the one who pokes it.

“Then, you should get involved with me. Again.”

You keep your promises to yourself. But Satoru keeps his too. An oath to wear his heart on his sleeve is translated into him fighting to get you back.

You slam the breaks so hard that his forehead goes straight into the sun visor, a groan leaving his mouth. You apologize and immediately reach forward, cupping the side of his face and eyeing the angry red mark on his forehead.

“Yikes. I’m sorry, Cyclops. That caught me off guard.”

“Be careful, there. Almost thought you cared for a second.” he says, smirking.

You park the car in front of his apartment and look out the window, the words making your head spin.

“You know, I can tell you want to.” he says.

You turn around and frown, reaching forward to flick into the soft skin of his cheek.

“Please. You’re not even all that-”

“You brushed your hand against mine when we walked to the conference room. I caught you staring at me during the company lunch on Thursday. And I know you just stopped talking to the short guy because Itadori told me. What’s the worst that could happen?”

The worst has happened. Because for the second time, you are irrevocably and deeply in love with Satoru Gojo.

Maybe you never stopped.

Just like you were when you were seven, you’re incredibly drawn to him, like two magnets being pulled together. What was supposed to be one date, one lousy hookup like every other guy you’ve talked to in the past year turned into a complicated, mushy gushy feelings mess.

You stayed over at his house that night. But then he was shirtless, singing in the kitchen as he made you breakfast in bed the next morning. And little by little, he’s crawled into every little part of your life.

He insists on driving you to work, buying you a sugary overpriced latte you would never splurge on for yourself and a pastry to go with it on the way. He claims he doesn’t want any but reaches over the seat to take a bite and then press a chocolatey kiss to your lips.

He hangs out with you and your friends after work. And like always, he always backs you up in the thousands of petty arguments he has with each of them and then tells you that it turns him on when he drives you home.

He draws little shapes into your skin every night, asking you to guess the little drawings he’s making while his soft, smooth voice lulls you to sleep. And when you wake up, you can’t help but watch him, the little freckles he had when he was seventeen still the same.

It makes your heart warm. The soft feelings you’ve always had for him, they make you warm.

Which is why you curse yourself for ever thinking things could be different, when he drops the ball three months later.

“Can you drive me to the airport on Friday, princess?” he asks, his breaths tickling your nose.

“Where are you going, Toru?” you murmur, burrowing yourself deeper into his skin.

“Home. The job posting was temporary, remember?” he responds, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead.

“Oh. Are- you’re not going to look for a job here?’

“Nah. Time’s up right?” he says, the question hanging in the air.

And when you wake up the next morning, to find him in your kitchen with a bowl of cereal all poured out for you and a bouquet of flowers, you can’t help but yell at him. After the shit he pulled last night.

“You should probably go to your apartment and pack your stuff up. Since you’re leaving tomorrow.”

“We can do it tomorrow, Belle. Most of my stuff is here anyway.” he says, holding the bowl close to his mouth as he leans over the counter.

“I can’t take you tomorrow. Megs said he will so you can ask him for help. He-he’s actually on his way now to get you.” you murmur, crossing your hands against your chest.

He frowns, coming up close to you to wrap his arms around you which you quickly side shuffle out of. You push past him and walk into the kitchen, clutching the countertop hard. Satoru smiles to himself before he turns around, knowing he’s won the war.

“Do you want me to stay, Belle?”

You roll your eyes, the audacity of him even suggesting that just pissing you off more. Irritated, because of course he said that. Agitated, because he can read you like a book.

“No, Satoru. Go home.”

“You sure? Because it seemed like-”

“Do you really think it would bother me if you left, Satoru? Do you really think you’re different from any other guy I talked to?”

Satoru frowns, the angry look on your face the opposite of the love-struck, warm confession he was expecting. But then again, this was you. Argumentative to your core - so he just needs to wrangle it out of you.

“I know I’ve been here longer than the rest of them, that’s for sure.”

“And do you think that makes you special, Satoru? Do you sincerely, genuinely think any of that means I would want you to stay right now?”

“Well, wait- I’m not just any other guy now, you and I, we-”

“We what? Have history? A long term fling doesn’t make us soulmates, Satoru.”

“That wasn’t a fling. You and I were-”

“You and I were no different than what we are now, Satoru. You should have known to not get over involved. I told you from the start that this is how it would be. You leaving didn’t faze me the first time and it won’t faze me the second time either, sweetheart.”

Satoru moves past you, yanking his hoodie on and grabbing his key off the hook as he swings the door open. And when he shuts the door behind you, his tear-stained face being the last thing you see, you sink onto the floor and can’t help but sob.

For the first boy you ever loved. Who burned you so bad, that you burned him too. Who soothed over every angry, irritating, argumentative part of you, until it was something you unleashed on him too.

You wonder why you let yourself into these sinkholes in the first place.

“Hey, man. Have a safe flight home, okay? It was nice getting to know you.” Itadori says, lugging the last of Satoru’s luggage out of the back.

Satoru gives Itadori one last hug before Megumi starts lugging his bags into the terminal with him, the intense feelings from the day prior still hanging on his chest.

“You-you’ll take care of her right? After I’m gone?” Satoru asks, as he pulls into the line.

“Who?”

“Y/N.”

“Oh. Yeah, I will. This time around though, I’m not letting Itadori and Nobara invite her to the bar.”

Satoru smiles, the thought of you drunk, making his heart ache. One of his many favorite sights is you on your fourth glass of wine - when your lips are all pink and when you climb all over him, whispering the corniest, cheesiest things that come to mind.

“Princess. You’re kind of cutting off my circulation here.”

“Sss-sorry, Satoru. Wanted to get closer.” you whisper, tangling your arms around his neck and readjusting in his lap.

“What’s closer than this princess? You’re literally on top of me right now.” he responds, cupping your face to push the hair away from your face.

“Not close enough.”

“The only thing closer than this is if you crawled into my skin and became a part of my bloodstream.”

“Is there a way to do that? Because I would.”

“You wanna be that close to me, huh princess?”

“Even when I’m sitting right next to you, right on top of you, literally skin to skin - I still can’t get enough of you. I want to be this close, all the time.”

Satoru shakes the memory from his mind as the people behind him gesture him to move forward in line, his heart hanging heavier in his chest.

“She always drinks too much, doesn’t she?” he says.

“Well, yeah. It’s usually funny. But now she’s going to go back into her moping, angsty teenager phase for the next seven months. I’ll probably be dragging her out of that bar on her legs, for all I know.”

“Y/N? Angsty? That’s real funny.”

“No, I’m telling you. When we first met her, all this girl did was cry in the bar. Her sadness was like…contagious or whatever it was making me depressed. One time she sang All Too Well, on the countertop while sobbing until the bartender literally had to kick her ass out.”

“The first guy she dated when she moved here was that bad, huh?”

“No. Itadori and Nobara have this running theory, they’ve been trying to figure out who he is for a while. The one thing we know for sure is that he’s definitely from her hometown and that she broke up with him right before she moved here.”

And that’s when Satoru gets it. That you’re a goddamn liar. And that you definitely did want him to stay.

Satoru does the only thing he can. Drops everything and runs straight out the airport to make his way back to your apartment. He’ll be damned if he makes the same mistake twice.

You look up from your spot, sprawled on the cold tiles of your kitchen floor, when you hear a key turn in the lock. You immediately sit up to find Satoru, an almost angry look on his face, when he storms in and bends down in front of you.

“Forget your diapers, grandpa?”

“Shut up, Y/N.”

“It’s a long flight. You don’t want to have an accident do you?”

He brings his hands up to your cheeks, squishing hard so you can’t get another word. And what he says next, the same words he uttered to you in that stupid lake, sober you u pearl fast.

“Princess, I really, really love it when you argue with me like that but can you please just let me finish?”

You swallow hard as he gives you a satisfied smile, giving him a soft nod.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“God, Satoru. Just quit it with this shit, I already told you no and I mean-”

“You also told me that it didn’t faze you when we broke up the first time. But then I find out, you were slurring my name in bars and crying about it for months.”

“So? Do you want a cookie or something?”

“So you’re a liar. And now I want to know the truth. Do you want me to stay?”

His eyes are burning, bigger than you’ve ever seen them. The gaze itself is piercing, making the ends of your hair stand up on your arms and legs. You shake his hand off your face as you stand up, scrambling to the other side of the kitchen.

“I don’t want you to stay.”

“Yes, you do. You’re lying, Y/N.”

“No, I’m not. One measly piece of information my friends mention in passing doesn’t mean it’s about you, Satoru.”

He brings his hands around your wrist, curling his fingers around the skin and squeezing twice.

“I made the dumbest mistake of my life. I had an opportunity, a real one to be honest about how I felt and I fucked it up, okay? I’ve regretted it every day since you walked away. You were going to go to school - with me. We were going to be together. But then you picked up everything and move to the other side of the fucking planet to halfheartedly date all these guys without a care in the world.”

“What does stating facts do for you, Satoru? What is it you want me to say?”

“You know what I want to hear. Say it, Belle.”

“What? That I left because of you? That I loved you so much that it made my heart hurt? That every second I’m around you it only feels like my love gets bigger for you? That the only person I can’t bring myself to get over is you? Because what does me saying that do for me because you’re just going to-”

Satoru smiles before he closes the space between you, pushing you into the counter and cradling your cheeks in his hand. He’s leaning into the kiss, so hard that you can feel almost his entire body weight on you as his lips press against yours.

He’s shaking hard and smiling into the kiss, pulling you back in every time you try to stop, his hands running in your hair as he laughs into your mouth.

“Was it so hard to tell me that you wanted me to stay?” he whispers, giggling into your ear as he presses kisses into your neck.

“Was it so hard to tell me you wanted to? You just had to come have this big moment with me here when-”

“Yes, I did. You deserved a big, lengthy love confession when you were seventeen, at that stupid party. I’m trying to do right by you through this dramatic shit now.”

“Because this is doing right by me? Making me cry and then running back?”

“It’s romantic, princess. I ran out of an airport for you.”

“After we argued. That kind of puts a damper on it.”

“Oh, shut up. You know argumentative girls have always been my thing.”

You place your hands around his face, yanking his head out of the crook of your neck as you hold his face in your hands, the skin soft. He still has all the little freckles, the same eyes and nose that you loved when you were seventeen.

That you love. You love him.

“Satoru.”

“Yeah?”

“How did you get a key to my house?”

He rolls his eyes as he breaks out of your hold, sticking his tongue out at you.

“That would have been a really sweet moment for a confession. You ruined it, princess.”

You smile as you make your way into his arms again, looking up at him from his hold.

“I made a copy of your key, Y/N.”

“That’s illegal, Toru. Breaking and entering.”

“You like to argue. I like to break rules. Everyone has their vices.”

You bring your hands back up to his cheeks again, the smile on your face hurting your cheeks as you press a kiss to the side of his cheek.

“Isn’t love the greatest vice, Toru?” you whisper.

“Maybe for me. Every normal thing hits different when it comes to you.” he says, closing the space between you two again.

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