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gojonanami · 6 months

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IS IT OVER NOW? - SUGURU GETO (ft. SATORU GOJO)

summary: suguru thinks the only way you'll leave him is if he lies to you about cheating on him - and it is. but turns out, you're not so easy to leave -- for him and his best friend. contents: 18+ only, smut, mentions of cheating, swearing, spoilers for vol. 0 + star plasma vessel and premature death arc, so much angst, but also too much smut (gotta earn that smut by getting through the angst), multiple orgasms, creampie, unprotected sex, fingering (f receiving), oral (f + m receiving), slight choking, panty play, overstimulation (f receiving) wc: 11,150 (why do i do this) playlist: is it over now - taylor swift, now that we don't talk - taylor swift, you are in love - taylor swift, say don't go - taylor swift

“It’s over,” the words slipped out of his mouth like second nature, the same way “I love yous” left his lips with a smile against your neck, but now those same lips were in a tight line. His eyes once filled with mirth, now stared at you with nothing in them — nothing but empty truth.

You don’t believe your ears — and how could you? The same man who laid with you on sleepless nights, in the silence of the way home after brutal losses, mornings spent in his wrinkled uniform white button up, stupid arguments ended in laughter, and the whispered promises kept like oaths in your hearts.

But now, they were broken — broken like your heart was.

“It’s over, I’m sorry — I can’t do this anymore,” and you’re stepping forward over this ravine with a snapping tightrope, but he’s on the other side with a lighter and a knife — daring you to cross it. Because he wouldn’t catch you — not anymore, “it’s not you—“

“Don’t give me bullshit assurances, Suguru,” you spit, the same name you had woken up this morning on your lips, all the love he had fostered over two and half years eroding away with his few words — slipping into hatred without another word, “give me a reason, I know Amanai and Haibara hurt you — hell, it hurt me too, but—“

“Don’t bring them up—“ he seethes, the same passion he once had for you — for even a scratch you had gotten from a mission that he promised to make a curse pay for again and again by making it serve him — now used for people who weren’t even here anymore, “it has nothing to do with them,”

And you almost laugh. It had everything to do with them. You had watched him fall apart over this summer — scapegoat the summer heat to Satoru’s face, when it wasn’t the heat that was withering him to nothing — a wilting flower simmered under the heat of loss. And with no one who could reach him — because he wouldn’t let them.

“You know that’s not true—”

“I cheated on you,” and the words die on your lips — along with any hope you had, “it was a stupid mistake but it showed me we can’t keep doing this,”

“You’re lying,” you denied it — no, no, no.

“I’m not,” and you can’t make sense of it, sense of anything, images of him tangled with another assaulting your senses — assaulting your heart, your soul, your body — bile rising in your throat that seared you on the way down as you swallow, “I didn’t want to have to tell you, but if it’s the only way for you to accept this, so be it,”

“Fuck off, you didn’t want to ‘have to tell me,’” hot, angry tears burning at your eyes, “fuck you,”

“Sweet—“

“You don’t get to call me that,” you snarl, heart rattling your ribs, as if it was trying to break through its bony cage, as if puncturing itself on the shards of your bones would hurt less, “not unless you’re trying to fix this,” you bargain, bargain for a love that was already lost.

“We can’t do this — I can’t do this to you,” and you give a watery chuckle, unable to meet his gaze; meet the gaze you once thought was your salvation — the thing you fought day in and day out to come home to, “I’m sorr—”

“Don’t bother,” you bottle the sadness in a barely kept shut box, shoved beneath your icy exterior, ice crawling over the recesses of your shattered soul, “don’t apologize for me for something you chose to do,” and you turn to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

And you give a terse chuckle, turning to look back, “you don’t get to care anymore, Geto.”

~~~

It was necessary. It was necessary. It was necessary.

That’s what Suguru keeps telling himself. He was caught in a tailspin, a tailspin that was only leading him one place, and he couldn’t take you with him. He couldn’t let that happen. But you keep haunting his thoughts, along with the other ghosts holed up in his head.

He hasn’t seen you in weeks. Only sporadic updates from Shoko when she humored his questions with a bribe of free cigarettes — and he didn’t know what you had told her but he knew you hadn’t told her that he had cheated (because Shoko would have surely ignored him). Shoko had even snuck a picture of you. You had grown your hair out, eyes no longer full of the joy as it once had been, and a cigarette you had said you had sworn you would never smoke between your lips.

And it only makes him want to pull the cigarette from your lips and kiss you again, swallow the smoke poisoning your lungs, hoping your lips would clear the poison from his system. But he couldn’t — he couldn’t go back now. Not when he couldn’t shake the darkness that crept over his soul — he couldn't go back to that spring, because those old days had died along with everyone else around him. Shot through the head just like Amanai.

He stares at the picture and it only makes him more sure — he can’t be in your life. He can’t be yours, he can’t even be your friend — because he can’t pretend it’s just platonic — can’t pretend it means nothing — not when you can see right through him, see the light fading from inside him, and you’d try to save him. Because that’s what you do. So he pays the cost instead, the cost of losing you — of losing your smiles, your laughs, your tears, and your voice.

And he didn’t even have his dignity — he had left that behind when he had lied to your face. Lied because he knew it was the only way you’d leave, and he couldn’t risk you staying. He couldn’t let your fingers dig into his sides, as he let himself drown, he couldn’t watch you choke on water along with him — no, no, it couldn’t happen.

He had long drowned — on that beach in Okinawa.

He got a phone call — Yaga — likely with another mission, and he only can think about Tsukomo’s words — over and over and over. He was treating the symptoms, eradicating curses day in and day out, he himself was a symptom of a broken system — a broken sorcerer.

And he flips his phone open, staring at the screensaver of you and him, your sleepy smile as you look up at the camera nuzzled against his chest — filled with the same love in your eyes that he watched drain from your eyes when he fed you perfectly prepared lies.

“Hello, yes, I’m available for a mission,” he hears Yaga give him the details of the mission on the other line, but it barely registers.

But at least he wouldn’t break you too.

~~~

You wake to a pounding at the door — the one time you had gotten time off, the one time you had taken the vacation you swore you would, the vacation that you would have your phone off, doors locked, no communication with anyone with Jujutsu Tech.

And yet.

There was someone banging on your door at 11:09 PM at night.

You stare at your ceiling at the spinning fan above you, and you couldn’t imagine how this night could get any worse. You throw off your covers, only in sleep shorts and a t-shirt, grumbling as you meander your way to the door to find Satoru, standing at your doorstep.

Your heart drops.

“What— did—“

“Suguru defected,” and you stare at him, as if he’s speaking a foreign language — two words made no sense in that order, no, no — he wouldn’t do that. Suguru out of anyone wouldn’t do that.

“No, that can’t—“ and Satoru comes inside, brushing past you, “Satoru—“

“It’s not just that,” he says softly, “he slaughtered a village, and his parents,” and you’re shaking your head, “why are you shaking your head—“

“What kind of weird prank is this, Satoru— he wouldn’t—“ and your voice dies in his throat as you see the look on his face, and all other words fade away from your lips except one — “why?”

And he explains — tells you what Suguru had told him, what had happened, why he left — “I couldn’t bring myself to kill him,” he murmurs, shaking his head, “I should have — if I had done what he did, Suguru wouldn’t have hesitated—“

“He wouldn’t have been able to do that to you, Satoru,” you scoff, leaning against your couch, Satoru sat beside you, “you’re the most important person to him, he wouldn’t have been able to even fathom the idea of hurting you. He would have just tried to convince you to change your mind,”

He gives a bitter chuckle, “Well then, he would have been able to change my mind all the same,” he’s holding his face, as if it would keep himself from falling to pieces — but his hands are too late — you can see the broken pieces of what was Satoru Gojo in front of you.

“Satoru, you can’t put Suguru upon yourself to save — he made the choices he made, you can’t change them. You can’t fix a person who doesn’t want to be fixed,” and maybe you were projecting — but you swore you saw the same pain, the same pain the day he broken your heart in Satoru’s eyes, “Suguru is smart enough to know where this road is leading—”

“And why can’t I completely blame him for choosing it?” he murmurs, his cerulean eyes finally meeting yours over the rim of his sunglasses, “I understand how he feels — so do you, you’ve seen the broken system, the deaths that could have been prevented—”

“But is this the way to fix it with innocent peoples’ blood on our hands?” you whisper, almost afraid to hear his answer, “I have friends who aren’t sorcerers — would he have me slaughter them too?”

“Well, he killed his own parents, so I wouldn’t doubt that,” he shakes his head, “Suguru was never the type to do things half-heartedly,” and his gaze falls again to the floor, “do you know after I had retrieved Amanai’s body — I asked Suguru if we should kill all of those people in the Star Religious Group?”

“Satoru—”

“He said there would be no point in it — no reason,” and he’s licking his lips, pulling his glasses off, “but he found his reason now, didn’t he?”

“Satoru, you had just come off Amanai, almost dying, you had barely a moment to process—”

“Why did he tell me to stop? Why did he save me when he couldn’t do himself the same courtesy?” And he’s rising to his feet, pacing the room, unable to sit still, “I thought I’d come here and talk to you because who else could understand him more than me? Shoko maybe, but even she doesn’t know,” his fists are clenched at his sides, as he whirls to face you again, “Why? I don’t understand how a person can change so much — how can you go from protecting the weak to—”

“Satoru, I don’t know why Suguru does the things he does—did you forget? He broke up with me,” the words reopen old wounds you thought had long scarred over, flesh wounds that had ripped you open, but had closed back up, now bleeding like new, “and he cheated on me,” and walked away without another word — twisting the knife with his silence.

Satoru’s brows knit together, his mouth opening as if to dispute it, but closing again — because if Suguru could murder his own parents, why wouldn’t he cheat on his girlfriend?

“I’m sorry—” and you laugh bitterly, meeting his gaze.

“I think we have bigger problems than his unfaithfulness,” and he says nothing, “what are we going to do about him?”

“Nothing—”

You stare at him, lips parted, “Satoru—”

“I can’t kill him,” his voice breaks, and it breaks you too, “I couldn’t bear it. I can’t be the one to—”

“But you’re the only one who can—” and you swallow the lump in your throat — how could you tell him to kill Suguru when you couldn’t imagine doing it either? “then what do we do?”

“Nothing, for now,” he murmurs, running his fingers through his hair, “I’ll monitor his moves as best I can, he’s good at covering his tracks — he knows how I operate more than anyone else does,” he says softly, “but not many can hide from the six eyes,”

“And you know how he does things too, Satoru,” you find your way his side, your fingers finding his, “it will take time for Suguru to make large moves — especially if he has two young children with him right now,” your heart aches at the thought — he promised to marry you one day, promised you a family once you both had settled down enough to consider it, and now he had two kids. But you weren’t with him.

His eyes find yours, “i’m sorry about what happened — I wasn’t there — I haven’t been here, at all—”

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Satoru,” and he’s shaking his head.

“Maybe I could have—”

“You can’t fix the whole world, Satoru,” you whisper gently, “you’re the strongest, yes, but that doesn't mean you can be everywhere and do everything,”

“I should have been here,” and you’re shaking your head, “I could’ve—”

“You couldn’t have, do you know how stubborn Suguru is? We couldn’t even convince him to cut his hair, much less change his mind about committing mass murder,” and he sighs, his eyes falling and rising to yours again, “hey, you’re okay, you know. You do too much, honestly, everything you’ve done — everything you will do—”

“And yet it will never feel like enough,” and you feel as if you could hear the same words leaving Suguru’s mouth too — the two had more in common than they had cared to admit.

“You are enough,” and your fingers find his cheek, “just as Satoru, you are,”

And his arms are pulling you into a hug then, head buried in your shoulder, his body consuming you with its warmth, your fingers running through his snowy locks, his tears wetting your shirt, but you say nothing, only holding him.

He pulls back after a few minutes, but his arms still wrapped around you, as he stares at you, barely any evidence of his tears, except for the redness on the tip of his nose, “You’re enough too,”

“I don’t know about that,” you joke, and he’s cutting you off with sharp words and a sharper look.

“You are, sweetheart,” and the familiar pet name makes your heart ache, “you’re more than enough,” and his palm is resting against his cheek, thumb rubbing the length of your cheek, “you’re so much more than you even know,”

And your breath catches as he draws near, “Satoru—” you shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. It wasn’t right. But why did his hands feel so nice against your cheeks? Why were you melting into his touch? Why didn’t you pull away?

“I just want to feel something else,” his hand is sliding into your hair, fingers pressed against your neck, “don’t you?”

And your lips find his first, lips brushing at first — and he’s so soft, his breath catching when you do, your fingers against his cheeks, and he’s pulling you back in again — it’s gravity. Again and again your lips meet, less hesitant with each kiss and each touch.

This shouldn’t be happening. You needed to stop it — Suguru had always teased that his best friend had a thing for you — hell, Satoru had all but admitted it with teasing words and promises to steal you away if Suguru ever had fumbled your relationship. But you knew he’d never would do it.

Or you thought he never would do it.

His hands slide down your body, pulling your hips closer to his, “tell me stop, if you want me to,” he murmurs, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, “I want—”

And you’re kissing him again, pulling him along your living room to your bedroom, “I don’t want to stop,” you breathe, you want something else, you want Suguru’s touch cleansed from your body, you want something more — you want to be wanted.

It had been so long since you had been wanted. The last few months with Suguru felt like an exercise in futility. You barely saw him, much less touched him — mission after mission, and excuse after excuse, piled onto the pyre waiting to burn your love for him alive. How long had it been since you had even kissed him? Each time you tried would end in him pulling away, shaking his head and telling you he was tired.

And he was. He was tired — tired of his work, tired of jujutsu society, and tired of you.

But he didn’t have the courtesy to let you know.

But Satoru…

His fingers are quick to get you naked, deftly pulling your t-shirt over your head, as your fingers tug his jacket off with the same eagerness, “Eager, are we?” he murmurs, half hearted teasing, a ghost of a smile on his lips as you pout, “don’t worry, I am too, baby,” as your fingers tug his sunglasses off, and place them on your nightstand.

You roll your eyes, “Satoru—” and he’s swallowing your retort with his lips — and you can’t help but compare them in your mind, he was so much more aggressive than Suguru was. Suguru’s hands slid over your hips and thighs as if he had all the time in the world, while Satoru’s clung to you desperately, as if you’d dissipate under his fingertips, “should we be doing this? Suguru—“

“Cheated. Murdered. Left us,” And his lips slide from his lips to your jaw, before his teeth graze right under your jaw, drawing a gasp from your lips.

And his lips curl, “Such a pretty noise, just f’me,” and he’s biting and sucking, surely leaving a lovely mark against your skin, his tongue tracing over the mark, “did you make noises like that for Suguru?”

“Satoru—” and his fingers are tugging at your bra, teasing your erect nipples as he’s only tugging the garment down, “fuck—” and his lips kiss your tit, while he’s rolling the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, “please,”

“Did you beg him like that too?” his fingers pull at the waistband of your shorts, teasing the skin underneath, “no wonder Suguru kept you for yourself,” he’s tugging off your shorts down your legs.

“Can we not talk about him if we aren’t gonna talk—” and his lips find yours again, teeth baring down on your bottom lip, “Satoru—” you gasp as he pulls at your lip, thumb sliding over the kiss bitten flesh.

“How can we not?” he murmurs, as his hands slide up your thighs to squeeze your ass, “is this the bed he fucked you on? Is this the way he touched you?” and he’s parting your thighs, large palms holding you apart, as his half lidded eyes linger on the wet patch on your panties, “is this how wet you got for him? Am I special?”

“Oh, fuck off—” and your words fall away as his finger presses against the wet patch, thumb against your puffy clit while his fingers tease your aching cunt.

“What was that, baby?” and he’s grinning, and he spares you, dragging your ruined underwear down, and he’s leaning down to your sopping pussy only to press teasing kisses to your inner thigh, before his lips press against your clit, “so fucking wet,” and he inhales, a languid moan leaving his lips, “if you taste as good as you smell, I’ll be cumming in my pants before I even fuck your pretty cunt,”

And his fingers sink into you — two at once, making your lips part, teasing your pussy open, the lewd sounds fill your ears as your slick squelches against his fingers, “Hear that? Such a greedy cunt, swallowing my fingers up even when I try to pull out,” and he’s pumping faster now, fingers curling against your walls, making you moan far too loudly, “moaning like that, and I’ve barely even started,” he hums, before his breath is warming your slick cunt as a warning as his tongue begins to lap at your clit, again and again.

“Fuck, Toru, need more—” His other hand is only grabbing you, pulling you impossibly closer as a third finger finds its way into you, and your hips move against his touch, begging him to fuck you in earnest. But he’s unrelenting. You can hear him swallow around you, every flutter of your cunt made just for him, as he nearly growls against you, vibrations only making you nearly grind yourself against his fingers and mouth. His tongue circles your clit, toying with it, before his lips close over it and suck, nearly making you scream, “I’m cummin—”

And his fingers finally find the spot they had been looking for, again and again with deft precision, as your walls clench around his fingers, as you gasp, arching your back, as you cum, and he’s licking your essence up eagerly.

Grinning as he pulls his fingers from you, licking your cum from his digits, before lapping at your leaking cunt, making you twitch around nothing, “Fuck, needy pussy practically begging me to fill you, huh? Hehehe,” he’s looking up at you all fucked out, your thighs twitching, eyes blown out — meanwhile his lips, chin, and nose were painted in your essence, the most beautiful work of art you’d ever seen, “didn’t realize how much I wanted this,” and he’s licking up your cum off his face, and wiping the rest on the back of his hand, and he’s climbing back over you, dragging his clothed bulge over your still sensitive cunt, making you both groan, “and I guess neither did you,”

You’re still looking up at him with lust filled eyes, as your fingers find his cheeks, “aren’t you wearing far too many clothes still?” and he’s smiling, “wanna help me out with that, sweetheart?” he asks, as his fingers press your boobs together, thumbs flicking against the abused nipples, cock twitching against your cunt as if he was imaging what it would feel like to blow his load right between them, his warm cum all over your face—

And you’re flipping him in a moment, pinned underneath you, as your fingers undo each button of his now definitely creased white button up, damp with your cum, as your palms drag over the exposed skin of his chest and abs, “Can’t wait to fuck myself on this later,” you murmur, leaning down to drag your tongue up his stomach, making him gasp deliciously, before your fingers busy themselves with undoing his belt, the click of the buckle only making you ache more, as you undo the zipper of his pants, tugging his boxers along with them to bunch at his feet hanging off your too small of a bed, and you can’t stop the gasp that leaves your lips.

He’s so fucking big.

Suguru was big, so fucking big that the first time he fucked you, he couldn’t even fit in your tight cunt. He had to give you multiple orgasms, prep you right, stretching you out with his fingers and tongue, and even a dildo, until you could fit himself with lube. And Satoru definitely wasn’t as thick as Suguru, but he made up for that in length — fuck, how deep would that reach? A pretty curve at the end with lovely veins running up that made your mouth water, white pubes dotting along it that were shaved, but grown out — likely from being away on missions for so long.

“You can take a picture, it’d last longer,” and your eyes snap up to the smirk on his lips, “although I tend to last very long,” he’s shrugging out of his shirt and kicking off his pants, before he’s pinning you under him again, “and if you do, maybe I can take a picture of you, full of my cum, my cock fucking it back in — it’s only fair, right, pretty?” and you shiver, as his finally unclothed cock bumps against your cunt, “oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you? I’ll make it my screensaver, you’d like wouldn’t you, filthy girl?”

And your fingers wrap around his cock, finally making him shut up with a hiss, “Gonna talk all night, or you gonna fuck me, Toru?” and he barks out a laugh, but it's consumed by a moan as you stroke him, leaning up to kiss along his jaw, “you gonna fuck the same hole your best friend did? Gonna cum there too?” and he’s thickly swallowing, your words leaving the great Satoru Gojo speechless, “what? If you brought up Suguru, so can I, right? Only fair,” you echo his words, and you’re squeezing around the base of him, “well, are you—”

And he’s pulling your hand away, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his cock, dragging his pre-cum over your cunt, letting your cum mix together, “Fuuuuuck, baby, so fuckin’ gorgeous,” and he’s manhandling you, grabbing your thighs, and hooking your ankles over his shoulders, “gonna fuck you now, sweetheart, any complaints?”

He grins at the way you shake your head eagerly, hips nearly grinding against his cock, and his tip sinks past your walls, “so tight, baby, did Suguru not fuck you right?” You can’t manage a reply, as you grasp at his shoulders, pulling him closer, as he sinks into you inch by inch, his brow furrowed beautifully as he finally bottoms out with a groan, “s’good f’me, so perfect—“ your walls flutter around him, your slick soaking him, and he’s tilting your head by your chin to make you look at where he’s sunk into you.

And he’s pulling out before sinking back in, and you’re gasping and squeezing him — how was he possibly deeper? “Fuck, baby, your cunt is trying snap me half,” and his hips are slapping against you as he fucks you in earnest, the squeaks of your mattress as he thrusts in and out and the lewd squelch of your pussy as it wraps around every inch and vein of his cock, “that’s it, that’s it, take me, take every inch of me,” and his balls are slapping against your ass, “did you take Suguru this well? Did you ever take anyone this well?”

And you’re a mess of just moans as he’s fucking you again and again, as he cups your chin, “I didn’t hear an answer or did the I fuck the words out of you too, baby?” He’s kissing you again, swallowing your noises with lips curled, before he’s pulling away with a groan, “can’t hear myself think with how loud you are — so fucking wet,”

“S’close, Toru, I-“ and he’s grunting, nodding, as he watches you, his cerulean eyes stare at you, right as his tip brushes your cervix—

“Cum for me baby, let me watch you cum around my cock,” and his fingers reach down between the two of you and rub against your clit, making your eyes roll back, as you fall apart around him.

Your walls are fluttering around him as you cum, moaning his name on your lips, as he pistons in and out again and again, thrusts stuttering as your walls squeeze him tight, “baby, I’m gonna cum, where do you want me—“

“Inside—please need to feel you cum—“ and you’re moaning, pulling him impossibly closer, and he’s sinks deep into you, and cums. He’s spurting his thick load into you, fucking it into you deeper and deeper, until you’re so full of him and his cum, you can barely feel anything else.

He’s slipping your legs off his shoulders, before collapsing on top of you, sinking into your arms. He’s pulling out, watching your mixed releases slip out of you with a groan, “how are you so fucking perfect?” He’s finding your lips in a kiss, before his nose nuzzles your neck, as your highs wear down.

Your fingers run through his white strands, “shouldn’t I be asking you that?” And he laughs, settling on your chest. And for a moment you forget — you forget the nights you spent with Suguru in this bed, the nights spent in tangled sheets with whispered nothings, with his arms around you, just like Satoru’s were now.

But only for a moment.

And as Satoru’s soft snores filled your ears, the only thing on your mind was the one person who you wanted in your bed right now.

~~~

“Still asleep?” your fingers run through his hair, “such a lazy-bones on your days off,” and your lips trace over his jaw, making his lips curl despite the draw of sleep, “gonna leave me hanging after last night?”

And your lips find his, sliding over his with practiced ease, the same way you breathed — it was natural, as his fingers find purchase in your hair, sliding back to your neck. Again and again, your lips cannot part his, if you can’t breathe without him — cannot exist without his touch.

And when you do part, he’s smiling, black fringe falling in his eyes, “So needy in the morning,” Suguru’s voice is gravelly with sleep, even as your fingers card through his black locks, “when did you become such an early riser? Usually I’m the one dragging you out of this bed kicking and screaming,”

Usually, but he’s the one who's struggling out of bed these days. He’s struggling to even function — lifting his arms in the shower feels like too much effort — and what’s the point? Would anything change if he left his bed today? Couldn’t he escape into the recesses of his unconscious for the rest of the day?

But you’re here — and you’re leaning over him, your lips curled in that smile that damned him into submission, because what could he do except submit to you — “who said anything about leaving this bed?”

But he needed to leave this bed, he thought, as your lips found his again — and how did you always taste so sweet? — he needed to leave these warm covers and inviting embrace. Because he couldn’t stay here.

He couldn’t stay with you.

But then your lips find his, and he can’t bring himself to stop, not when you’re climbing on top of him, straddling his waist, his growing bulge tenting in his boxers. He can he stop when you’re murmuring his name like that, eager fingers tugging the damp fabric down, letting his dick slap against his stomach — a bead of precum that you lean down, your tongue darting out to taste.

And he hisses, as your fingers wrap around him, teasing the head of his cock, thumb dragging over the slit, “sweetheart—“ he's warning — but you know he’s all bark and no bite — but he would be biting you later surely, with the way you toy with him — both his cock and his feelings.

Your mere presence in his bed has him questioning himself — questioning how necessary is it to end things? Why does he need to? He had this future planned — a certain way things were to go — he was the strongest, him and Satoru, he was going to work and settle down later, marry you, maybe even a kid or two — but now — the plans had changed.

He had changed.

Satoru was the strongest. Not him. And work as a sorcerer was killing him now, as you and Satoru were sent farther and further away, and Shoko had resigned herself to medicine — what did he have? Another year of this hell — he didn’t even know if he could last another day of swallowing curses. It had become second nature to him, but without a purpose, without a reason without any principles to guide him — it became worse than torture.

It was his personal hell.

And yet, as your soft lips closed around his leaking tip, fingers playing with his balls, as you sank your mouth onto him, drawing soft moans from his lips — he didn’t wanna give it up. How could he, when you were here? He could burn his life down to ash, watch what he worked for, what he had thought was his purpose fall to pieces in front of him — let himself fall to pieces — but that would mean burning you along with it.

And could he bear that?

Your tongue flicked against his length, tracing his veins as his tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him, as his fingers settled in your hair, “fuck, sweetheart, s’fucking good f’me,” and his hips shallowly thrust into your mouth, “take me so well, practically swallowing my dick,” and you swallow around him, pulling a moan from his mouth, his eyes flitting down to see the telltale press of your thighs together, “such a filthy girl, look at you, probably dripping wet from sucking me off,”

And he’s tugging you off, strings of spit and his precum connecting your lips to his aching dick, “Sugu—“ your lips are red and puffy, parted still, with cum and spit slipping down the corner of your mouth.

And he’s pulling you on top of him, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs, hissing as the damp fabric of your far too thin sleep shorts press against his still sensitive cock, “don’t even have to get you ready baby, already all prepped from just tasting me, aren’t you?”

He shouldn’t be doing this — he told himself today would be the day, he promised himself he’d stop pretending everything was fine. But when you felt so perfect on him — soft skin and soft sighs, your little gasp you gave when his fingers slide his t-shirt — the one full of small holes you had stolen from him when you first spent the night that you refused to throw out — up and over your head, exposing your chest to him — how can he stop?

“Suguru, please,” you whimpered as his mouth took one nipple in his mouth, warm tongue flicking against the pebbled flesh before his teeth graze it, pulling another hallowed moan from your lips, “need you,”

“Do you?” He hums, half teasing, half truthful — did you need him? Would you fall apart when he left? Would he spend nights wondering if you were anxious without him? Spend days wondering how you were filling them without him?

And you pause, strange look on your face, as your eyes scan over his features, palm sliding over his face, “of course I do,” passion falls away for a moment replaced with a different intimacy, “you’re my best friend,” and your lips slide over his as you lean down, “I’ll always need you, even when we’re both dust — I hope we spend it bathed in sunshine together,”

But would you? His eyes can’t meet yours — because he can’t see the sun in his future, only a dark descent into madness — a future spent alone. Because even with your smile at the end of his days, he couldn’t imagine spending another minute doing thankless work for miserable, ignorant, weak monkeys, only to do it all over again the next day. And his silence has you questioning him, but it’s like water fills his lungs, paralyzed by his own thoughts, and even as concern fills your eyes, he still can’t find anything to say.

So you say it instead.

“C’me here,” you murmur, and your hands slide over him, “I love you,” you kiss him all over his face — his nose, his cheeks, his chin, his forehead, before your lips hover before his, “can I—“

And he’s flipping you under him, pressing bruising kisses to your lips, as his fingers snake between your thighs, “you don’t need to ask— you never need to ask me,” he whispers in the dark, but even so, he knows — it can’t stay like this — even as he pulls your shorts down to bunch around your ankles and presses his leaking tip your messy folds — it can’t — because you were meant to live in the sunshine.

And he hilts himself in you fully, inch by inch, until he’s groaning your name in a grunt — and he belonged in the dark silence.

He knows this would be the last time. It would be. Because he had to — he couldn’t wait. It was only a waiting game until he was called to another mission, time until he dragged himself lower — until he couldn’t blame the heat for his dark bags under his eyes and the lost weight.

He had to.

And as he fucks you to your orgasm, instead of your lips moaning his name, your hard eyes meet his, lips parting, “I hate you—“ and his hands curl around your neck, “I hate lying traitors,” you choke out as his fingers squeeze your neck.

SNAP.

And he jolts awake, as whispers fill his ears, as his heartbeat slows, “Master Geto?” His eyes flicker over, spotting Nanako and Mimiko trying to snap a chocolate bar in half, “can you help us?”

A dream. It was a dream.

And he’s helping the girls, as they curl up beside him, “are you okay, Master Geto? You were talking in your sleep,” Nanako asks, ever curious, “you looked like you were having a bad dream,”

“I was,” he admits, eyes fixed downward, trying to force the image of you choking below him from his eyes, “about someone I used to know,”

“Who?” Mimiko pipes up, nibbling on her chocolate, and he sighs, running his hands through their hair, a bittersweet smile on his lips — he could still feel your lips against his, the smell of your sweat, the feel of your body.

“Someone I loved — who I left, but I guess…I guess I miss them,” why was he spilling his guts to these two little girls? Ones who had been through far too much to hear about his petty problems.

“Then why don’t you talk to them?” Nanako asks, “maybe you can tell them to live with us,” and his lips curl sadly.

“I don’t think she would want to talk to me,” and why would you? After what he had said, what he had done, and what he was going to do.

“You can try,” Mimiko says, she bites a chunk out of her share of the chocolate bar, “you tried to save us and you did — maybe you can do the same thing — save her,”

And he considers it — maybe he didn’t have to drag you down. Maybe he wouldn’t be — maybe he’d be saving you. Saving you from a system that would only land you in a pile of bodies — just like Riko, just like Haibara.

Maybe — maybe he could. Maybe he could be enough for you. Enough for you to leave. Enough for you to stay. He could have his family — and have you too.

~~~~

He still had your key.

You hadn’t bothered to ask for it back — maybe you had forgotten, maybe you didn’t care — but a part of him hoped it was for another reason, maybe you wanted him to come back.

Even so, he didn’t know if it would still work — maybe you had the foresight to change the locks — but it does, sliding into the lock with ease, as the tumblers slide into place and he’s turning the knob into a silent apartment. And it plants a stubborn seed of hope in his chest, maybe it wasn’t so crazy — aside from breaking and entering — maybe he would find his way back to you.

You’re likely on your walk this morning still — the same way you started the weekend, a walk and visit to your local coffee shop where you got the same order each time, and then you’d spend an hour browsing the shops for something to read or make. He scans the apartment — he knows you’re on vacation this week, from what Shoko had told him last, before he had spoken to Satoru. You hadn’t heard of his news, but you probably did now — if Shoko hadn’t told you, he knew Satoru would have.

And he wonders how that conversation went. Wondered how angry you were. Wondered how much you must hate him now — maybe you even wanted to kill him. But the logical side of him knew you didn’t have the skill to do so — you were a grade 1 — a cut above the rest, but still, your abilities weren’t enough, but emotionally…he may let you kill him, if only to spare him the agony of having to kill you — but he knew it’d kill you just the same.

He can see his days spent here before — you had finally moved off campus, convincing Yaga to let you have your own place early before graduation. You two had celebrated being free of dorm rooms with far too little space and too thin walls (too many times Satoru had spoiled the moment by either banging on the wall, blasting polka music, or just with smug remarks about yours and Suguru’s lack of sleep). He sees himself sitting at the kitchen counter, your stools pressed close as the two of you read the paper together, or laughed about something Shoko had texted or something stupid Gojo had done to piss off Yaga over burnt toast you had only burned while he’s pressing his lips to you. Or evenings spent on the couch cuddling while a bad movie he had picked played, but he’s more preoccupied with teasing you with brushes of his fingers against your bare skin or burying his face in the crook of your neck. And nights spent in your bed, entangled together, his arms around you listening to you breathe, skin dappled in the moonlight that streamed in from the window, wondering how did you ever exist at the same time as him?

And then the front door swings open, as he steps out from the bedroom, and he hears a bag slip falling to the floor, groceries spilling out, and his gaze finds yours, “What—”

“I came to see you,” he moves closer, and you step back — and he’s stopping, he doesn’t see fear in your eyes, he sees hurt — and he almost thinks maybe fear would pain him less.

“Well, I’m here,” you cross your arms, unable to quite meet his eyes, “anything else?”

“Sweetheart—”

“You don’t get to call me that, Geto,” your words were sharp as a knife, and you were trying to cut — and you did, deep. He bites back the sting, as he stares at you — your hair was longer, your eyes had bags, but your lips were twisted with pain, when normally it’d be quirked in a smile pressed against his cheek, “what do you want? Unless I should just save myself the trouble and call Satoru or Yaga?”

“I came to get you,” he steps forward slowly, and you don’t move away this time, “let’s be together. I—”

“You murdered people, you murdered your parents, you left Jujutsu Tech, you broke my heart, you broke Satoru’s and Shoko’s — and you want me to come with you?” you shake your head, barking out a harsh laugh, “did you lose your grip on reality between all the damage you’ve caused?

“If you let me explain—”

“And why should I let you? Your silence these past months was enough for me, you not fighting for us was enough for me, you spiraling without letting me help you was enough for me,” and your voice breaks, “and you cheating on me was enough for me, enough for me to know it’s over.”

“It’s not over, it’s not. I tried to force it to be over. I lied to you, I lied to myself, and said it was over, but it’s not, it’s not,” and he’s so close in a moment, and he can smell the familiar scent of your perfume mixed with your sweat — lavender, hibiscus, and something all the more sweeter, “not when it’s us,” and his fingers brush against your cheek, “please—”

“Don’t do this,” you’re shaking your head, again and again, “don’t, don’t, don’t, please—”

“How can I not? How can I not when I was foolish enough not to the first time, pretty?” he’s murmuring, “I love you, I do, I never stopped,”

“No, you don’t—”

“I do, I do, I know I said a lot of things, I need you to know, I need to explain, if you just let me—” and his fingers are sliding along your jaw, and finds uneven skin, and his eyes lingers, as his fingers tilt your chin up to find a fresh hickey left underneath.

“I—” and he’s drawing you close, so close, his dark eyes narrowed to slits, a deadly silence that makes your skin prickle under his gaze, until he’s warming your lips with his breath.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” but the telltale sign of your breath catching, your chest heaving against his, your lips parted as your eyes can’t pull away from him, his grip is slack enough for you to pull away — but you don’t.

You can’t.

And his lips hover before yours, warming your own with his heated breath, “Kiss me, baby,” and your cheeks warm, butterflies erupting in your stomach, heat blooming wherever his other hand sneaks, dragging over your sides.

“Why should I?” you’re grumbling, but you’re staying right where he has you — right in his arms, and you don’t know why, “you want to kiss me so bad so you do it,”

And he clicks his tongue, fingers sliding behind your head, weaving into your hair and against the soft skin of the back of your neck, tugging you closer, “you kissed someone else with those lips, tasted them, maybe a day or two — were you this bratty with them?”

“Oh fuck off, Suguru, you’re one to talk—“ and his lips swallow your bitter words, tasting them on your tongue, as he parts your lips with a rough squeeze of your hips. And his lips only quirk when your moan rumbles against him, his calloused palms sliding between your thighs.

“You open your legs this easy for them?” he says when he’s pulling away from your mouth, thumb dragging over your swollen spit soaked lips, “how’s that fair? I’m your first, baby, and I’ll always be your favorite—“

And any retort is lost as his teeth drag over your jaw, lips closing right over the hickey he had hated so much, normally calm eyes filled with dark contempt, and he’s biting down, pinching your already bruised skin between his teeth, sucking and soothing with his tongue, “Mine, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You nod wordlessly, and his fingers slide forward, wrapping around the front of your neck, thumbing the hollow of your throat, “Use your words,” and there was something darker — something he had let you have glimpses of in moments of missions, of arguments, even in bed — but it wasn’t a glimpse now — it was the whole goddamn picture above you.

“I’m yours, Suguru,” you manage, words strangled by a moan as his lithe fingers tug at the waistband of your panties, making them rub against your drenched cunt, “please—”

“So pliant now, aren’t you?” he hums, as he pulls harder, making the wet fabric rub against your aching clit, “maybe I should make you cum this way, don’t know if you deserve my fingers or my mouth yet,”

You’re a mess — mind swimming in the need for pleasure, why did it always feel so right with him? So perfect. It shouldn’t be. He cheated on you. He slaughtered humans. He left you. He left you without telling you anything of what was plaguing him, until it was too late.

It was too late. He was too late.

So why were you letting his hands tear your panties apart as he fucked you with them?

Because — your fingers reach for his cheeks, leaning up to kiss him, again and again, as your lips parted and met — it was Suguru.

It was always Suguru.

“Please, Suguru, I need you, need more—ngh—” and the fabric of your panties snaps under his fingers, as he’s ripped them off, pocketing them without another word.

“Did you let him touch you?” he’s kissing down your body, wet kisses, his lips lingering at your pebbled nipples, sucking one, while squeezing the other between his thumb and forefinger, before he switches, kissing down your stomach — tongue teasing your belly button — before he’s finally settling between your thighs, his fringe unrulier than ever, strands of his long hair slipping from his bun, “Answer me, sweetheart,” he orders, as he presses mean fingers to part your thighs for him, surely leaving bruises with how hard he’s holding your soft flesh.

“I did,” you can’t manage the words to tell him who — how can you tell him his best friend fucked you? That you let Satoru fuck you the night you found out he left. It was one thing for him to cheat with a random person, it’s another for you to go and sleep with his best friend, “Suguru, please—”

“Mouth or fingers?” and you swear, despite them not speaking, they still share the same dumbass brain cell—

“What the fuck does it matte—” and your words are cut off by Suguru slipping in two fingers at once into your leaking cunt, fucking you meanly as he watched your mouth fall open, head tilted back as your hips jerked against him, desperate for more. His fingers curled as they fucked your hole open with rapid thrusts, the squelch of your cunt going straight to your head and straight to his already hard cock.

“It fucking matters because this is my pussy, isn’t it, baby? I fucked it first, I fucked it best, and I need to know what others did while I was gone, don’t I?” and a third joins the other two, pulling another moan from your lips,“but if you won’t tell me, I’ll just use both, fuck you with all five fingers and tongue if that’s what you want to do,”

“Sugu—” you’re already so fuckin’ close, your walls shuddering around his cock, “I’m—“ and he stops moving, smiling down at your open mouth twisting in a scowl, “fuck—“

“That’s what we’re trying to do, baby, but I’m not gonna let you cum that easy,” he coos, his curled lips leaning down to lap at your cunt, warm tongue dragging up your clit, before sucking lightly, making you squirm, “tell me you want me,”

“Your fucking ego—“ and he’s plunging three fingers into your messy entrance, making you gasp — god, you hated how good he felt — his fingers bullying your insides with practiced ease, “Sugu— please—“ as his tongue teases your clit, flicking it, before his teeth nibble at it. You’re squirming in earnest now, nearly fucking yourself on his fingers and tongue.

He laughs, pulling his mouth from your cunt, lips glossy with your pre-cum,“How quick you’re going from cussing me out to begging me to cum,” you don’t care anymore — you need to cum, “tell me what you want, Princess,”

“Need to cum, please, please, Sugu—ah—“ and he’s sinking one more finger in you, before his lips close around your clit and suck, hard. Your back arches as something in you snaps, as the squelching and slurping of his fingers and sucking send you over the edge. You flood his mouth and fingers with your cum, squirting all over him, as he eats you out and fucks you through your orgasm, groaning as you clench around his tongue and fingers. Your thighs shake and quiver in his grip, fingers holding you still in place, as he keeps overstimulating you, “too much, can’t—“ you cry out, shaking your head, but he’s not relenting until you feel something build in again — more and more, until his fingers find that one spot in you that has you silently screaming as you cum again, even harder than the first. You’re soaked — soaked the sheets through, chest rising and falling as the pleasure ebbs away, tears slipping down your cheeks, folds fluttering as he pulls his fingers out.

His breath warms your dripping cunt, lips glossy and eyes dark, groaning as he watches your cum slip from inside you, as he looks up at you with a dark, half lidded gaze, “So fucking good for me, even hotter when you cry,” he’s licking his lips clean of your cum, before he’s pressing the pads of his fingers into your open mouth, “clean them f’me, baby,” and your tongue swirls around him obediently without question, pretty eyes glassy with tears making his rock hard cock twitch in his pants, “good girl,”

And he’s pulling his fingers from your mouth, before leaning up and pulling off his black sweater, the click of his belt as he kicks off his pants, your eyes glued to his thick cock — he was thicker than Satoru, so pretty too — black pubes groomed, nearly pressed against his stomach.

“Always so desperate for my cock, aren’t you, Princess? I’ll let you clean your cum off of it after, but I have to have you first — got to reclaim what’s mine,” and he’s dragging his cock against your clit.

You gasp, twitching against him, but more than the pleasure, the guilt creeps in — flashes of Satoru from the night before with hands over your hips and thighs, and you had kept quiet about your life from the time you spent away. You had done your best to stay away from Suguru, even though you knew he hadn’t exactly done the same — asking Shoko questions, for pictures, for any scrap of you.

And you couldn’t lie — not about this.

“Suguru,” and he’s pausing, eyes meeting yours with a flash of concern, but the words tumble out with warning, just the way he had done with you, “I slept with Satoru,”

And he’s silent — emotions roll in and out on his face — confusion, hurt, anger, and acceptance — they all fall away as he’s only staring off to the side, unable to even look at you. Words fall away, stopped in your mouth after the bitter truth that’s left it and you wonder — is it over now? Seconds feel like hours — your fingers curl into the sheets, looking for something to hang onto, to ground you. Why did he have to start this? You were fine with the burnt ashes of the love he had scorched over, but now he started a fire, and you didn’t want to put it out. You didn’t want to go out.

You didn’t want him to go.

But he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes finally find yours for a moment, before he’s kissing you again and again and again, bruising kisses that slaughter any sense of logic and words from you — but his message is clear, he doesn’t wanna talk, especially as his hand reaches does to brush his aching tip against you, smearing his pre-cum over the length of you.

And he’s sinking into you, and somehow you’re still so tight around him, “Fuck,” he hisses, the first word that leaves his mouth, “did Satoru not fuck you right last night?” and your lips part as he thrusts harshly and smoothly, bottoming out with one single movement, “still as tight as when I took your virginity, aren’t you, baby?”

“Suguru,” you’re so full, he’s so thick, and these last few weeks without him almost had your cunt forgetting what he felt like filling you — his hands gripping your thighs to press them back against your stomach, as he pulls back only to slam back in, making you head loll back, “s’good, s’full,” it’s all you can feel, all you can think about, was him, just him.

“That’s right, I’m the only one who can fill you like this, the only one that makes you feel this good,” the sounds of his hips slapping against you send more heat flooding downward, as he grunts, watching himself piston in and out of you, “take me s’well, my good girl, mine,” he growls, “squeezing me so tight, never want me to leave this sweet cunt, do you?” your thighs shake as he presses them back, balls slapping against your ass, as he only sinks deeper and deeper, “could fuck you all night, don’t hide that face from me,” he’s forcing you to hold his gaze as he fucks you — your glassy eyes blown out with pleasure, your kiss ruined lips parted for him as you panted and moaned, forehead glossy with sweat, “wanna watch you cum around my cock, wanna see you scream my name, pretty baby,”

His hand slides behind your ass, grabbing a fistful and finding a better angle before slamming back in, and with his filthy words, its enough to have you cumming with his name on your lips, “Sugu—fuck, Suguru!” your voice goes to a pitch you didn’t know it could reach. Toes curling as your gummy walls swallow him in, your pretty mouth forms an ‘o’ and he grunts, imagining those lips around his cock, his thrusts growing sloppy as he fucked you through your orgasm. His dick was soaked, his precum mixing with your cum.

But he wasn’t done yet.

He’s slapping your clit, making you jolt, as he’s still pressed inside you, “Sloppy fucking girl, I know you have one more for me,” and you’re so fucked out, he’s guiding your legs around his lower back and hips, making you gasp, “gonna cum in this perfect princess cunt,”

“Sugu, can’t, It’s too muc—” you nearly sob, but he’s already fucking you, thrusting again and again. And it doesn’t take long for another orgasm to build, already far too sensitive from your last. It’s too much — the feeling of his hips slapping against yours, the feeling of his cock twitching inside your walls, the small moans that your tight cunt pull from his lips, and when his tip brushes against that perfect spot, as his thumb bears down on your clit — it’s too much. You see stars as you cum again, even harder, the loud squelch as he fucks you still pulls a deep groan from his lips.

“Gonna cum, baby, gonna make a mess of you, fill you up,” he’s grunting, and you’re only nodding and moaning “yes,” still fucked out from your orgasms, but it’s enough for him notch himself deep in you and cum, painting your womb white, as he spurts his seed inside you.

And his hips stutter, as he eases your legs down, still shaking and quivering from being fucked, and he rubs them, as you pant, his fingers then reaching to wipe your tears, as he eases himself out, groaning as he watched your mixed cums leak out of your cunt.

“Suguru,” you murmur, and he’s leaning over you, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead, and your hand reaches for him, cupping his cheek, “I love you,” and you do — you always loved him, you always would — there was never anyone else. Only him. But the words can’t find their way out of your mouth, sleep calling for your attendance, as your fingers run through his hair, pulling his hair tie off, and carding their way through his long hair, “I love the long hair,” you hum, eyes fluttering and heavy with sleep.

“Do you?” His voice is gravelly, as he leans down, his lips finding your own for moment, before reaching for a bath towel you had slung over your metal bed frame, as he cleans you up, “how much?”

“Too much, Sugu,” he chuckles softly, as he finishes cleaning you and himself up, pressing soft kisses to your thighs, as he moves to get up and put the towel in the hamper — your hand catches him by the wrist, “Don’t go,”

And his gaze softens, as he shakes his head, “I’m just taking this to the hamper, I’ll come back to bed,” and your lips form an unfairly cute pout, but you relent, letting him walk away to the bathroom to dispose of the towel, and when he comes back, you’re already asleep, curled up.

He stands in the doorway, watching your chest rise and fall — and he’s walking over, pulling your comforter over your body, as he holds it open for himself, pausing, only to let it fall and settle on your side.

He couldn’t ask you to come with him. Couldn’t whisper those words in the night, because you couldn’t save him from the dark — not you, not Satoru, not a single person. Because he wasn’t cut out to live in this world with a smile on his face — and you always deserved to have one on your lips. And Satoru could do that for you. Not him.

It was never him. He was never good enough — his fingers trace over your cheek, pressing another kiss to your forehead — not for the jujutsu world, and not for you.

And he turns to leave, sparing a single glance at you — but he’d make a place for him. And maybe for you — make a world that’s safe for them to live in. Where he didn’t have to watch you join the other bodies piled up around him.

He’s pulling the door shut to your apartment softly, his key left on the table.

It was over.

~~~

“You’re late again, as usual,” Suguru smiles, slumping down against a wall, “Satoru,”

“The ones in Kyoto, they were under your command?”

“Yes, they all were,” he sways, holding his shoulder, he didn’t have much time left — he couldn’t feel anything, even as he held his wound, he felt nothing — no pain, no anger, no hatred, “no matter what anyone says, I hate those monkeys,” and his thumb brushes lightly over his shoulder, “but I never held any hatred for those in Jujutsu High School,”

“Did you not? Could’ve surprised me,” and his head turns slowly behind Satoru, and he sees you — sees you for the first time in a decade. Even at his visit to Jujutsu High, you weren’t around — away on a mission, just as he had intended.

Satoru only sighs, sparing you a glance, “I told you not to come here—”

“And I told you that I needed to see him,” you brush past Satoru, kneeling by Suguru — and he can’t take his eyes off of you — he had seen pictures, ones he had his twins take (not wanting those money grubbing monkeys to have even an image of you), and he saw you had done quite well for yourself after he had left. A teacher, just like Satoru — trying to foster a new generation of sorcerers — he was right, you were just like him, weren’t you? And he watches as your brow furrows, scanning over his injuries, gears grinding, but he has to halt them right then and there.

“There’s no saving me now, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, “but you know that already, don’t you?” he takes an unsteady breath, leaning back against the wall, his eyes falling over you again, “still so beautiful — how’s that possible?”

“Not beautiful to stick around for though, am I?” your words aren’t laced with bitterness so much as it’s a question, a question of why he had left you. Why did he never had come back.

“But beautiful enough to always stay faithful to,” his words are soft, “I don’t have many regrets, not any at all truly in retrospect, but I did lie to you about cheating—”

“I know,” your hand uses your sleeve to clean some of the blood on his face, scarlet on your palm, “I realized once I thought about it — and I’ve had plenty of time to think about you, Suguru,” your fingers trace his jawline softly, “because thoughts were all you left me with,”

“Not all I left you with,” his eyes slide back to Satoru and back to you, lips curled in a smile, “you two were always more better suited than I ever was to you, princess,”

“Suguru—” Satoru starts, but Suguru is shaking his head.

“It’s rude to interrupt a person’s last words, Satoru,” he clicks his tongue, and his lips curl as he finds your gaze again, your eyes glassy, “don’t look like that, sweetheart,”

“Suguru, why did you have to leave?” and he’s shaking his head slowly, resting it against the wall behind him.

“Because I didn’t belong there — I couldn’t live in this world with a real smile on my face,” and his hand reaches for you, but stops, falling back to his shoulder, and tears slip down your cheeks, “but with you, I came close,” he murmurs, and he knew it was time, “Satoru,” and that’s all he had to say to have Satoru start to pull you away.

“No, no, please—” you’re shaking your head, trying to push past Satoru, but you slump in his arms, “I love you, Suguru, I always will,”

And he gives a small chuckle, lips curled in that smile that always damned you — “At least curse me at the end,”

But you never could, as you step away, squeezing your eyes shut as you hear the distant splatter of blood. And you knew — you knew you would have stayed forever, stayed with him forever, if he only had told you not to go.

But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

The two of you bury him, somewhere secluded, where no one would find him. The cold ground was hell to dig up, but the two of you managed somehow, each shovelful feeling like a funeral march with no end in sight. Neither of you could bear the thought of his body being poked and probed for its secrets, before being burned, turned to the ash and smoke, the very same he had left your lives in when he had torched it all to the ground. But even so, you couldn’t bear it — and as you look at the mound before you, you want to claw his body up — dig him up as if it would bring him back to life, pull whatever being or force out of the sky and make them give him back.

But you can’t — it’s over.

Satoru’s hand finds your shoulder, pulling you into a hug, burying your face in his chest, as he holds you tight to his chest. And he’s leading you away from Suguru, a single flower left over his grave, as the cold air freezes the tear stains left on your cheeks.

It’s over now. It was over now, right? Right?

And it was.

Until Shibuya.

a/n: this was supposed to be 3K, and ended up being over 10K. story of my life. this fic is thematically sponsored by 1989 (taylor's version), in particular, the vault tracks that helped me write this. you can literally spot lyric references almost throughout the entire thing

tag list: @ghostkonigkeegan141, @lightblueexorcist, @aemondseyesocket, @lemonpoppy-seed, @stran-dedforyou, @tiaraqueen123, @sun-daddy-yoriichi, @grooveandshit, @prettyabc, @kaskasi, @moranguitosz, @haunting-venus, @ninneko19, @psychicai, @d1rtv, @forest-fruits-jam, @katie91239, @dud3vil, @robynnikole151, @ivory-cove, @ohbi-the-way, @numbinyourchest, @dabisdolly, @kal0pssiaa, @glaceliy, @3atinguout, @iovesatoru, @imthebestbye-blog, @michelleeveline, @ichikanu, @ummcumfurtable, @collectionofdolls, @auraeum, @reesesnieces, @goldfishsmemory, @itshobiscussposts

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oepionie · 1 year

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— "AND WHILE YOU SLEEP, I'LL BE SCARED." overblot gang

SYNOPSIS: Your lover waking up from a horrific nightmare and scrambling to listen to your heartbeat so he can make sure you're still alive.

⊹ [ cw ] — angst, hurt/comfort, overblot, blood, glass shards injury, anxiety/panic attacks, insecurities, mentions of death, crying (them)◞

⊹ [ tags ] — ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP. GN! READER | riddle tears his room apart, leona feels immense guilt, caring leona, azul having a panic attack, vil being an absolute mess, vil speaks german, shy idia, jamil injures himself accidentally, jamil calls you 'albi' (my heart), malleus immortality angst ◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 1.5k+◞

✩—RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

It's far past his scheduled time for sleep.

A bitter taste is bubbling up in his throat and frothing against his tongue. Riddle doesn't know what this wretched feeling is. All he knows is that he's terrified. Perhaps that's why he allows himself to disturb your sleep, the maddening emotions slamming against his head becoming too much for him to handle.

"I-I apologize for waking you," Riddle rasps, slipping into your shared bed and burrowing his face deep into the crook of your neck. His breaths come out in quick and fleeting puffs, heart thrumming hard against his ribs.

In the dimness of the night, the myriad of mangled and torn-up books that were strewn and flung about the room in a frenzied fury could hardly be seen. Your gaze flickered down to your lover. The tips of Riddle's fingers were a blistering raw red, his once well-groomed nails now visibly chipped at its ends.

With a touch of your tender hands, you pull him down to rest against your chest.

"What's wrong?"

"I–I just…I recalled the incident of my overblot and how I hit you with that blast. H-How you nearly—" Clamping his eyes tight, Riddle dared not to finish that sentence. The boy trembles in your arms—ears fervently straining to hear the steady and melodic thump of your heart, a melody he feared he would never hear again.

A choked sob tumbles from his lips and your chest aches.

"…I'm sorry," was his quiet cry. "I'm so sorry."

✩—LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

Peacefully fast asleep, your back was nestled snug against the Leona's chest while his firm bicep protectively curled around your ribs.

Over the course of your relationship, Leona began to realize how much he loved having you in his arms. You were at peace when you slept, untouched and untainted by the stress and pain you dealt with every day.

He crept his free hand up your torso, cold fingers slipping underneath your shirt, skimming up your stomach, and settling above the spot on your chest where your heartbeat danced vividly against his touch. Leona splays his fingers out more, fixated on how the thrum of your life felt against his skin.

It was a daily struggle to keep his emotions at bay, ensuring that his strong feelings and magic wouldn't hurt you again. The nightmarish phantom of his blot still haunts him to this day. That wrath was an ugly and hideous beast he wished to keep locked away in the depths of his mind for all of eternity.

Yet, at the soft beat of your delicate heart against his sullied hands—Already, Leona finds himself wavering, uncharacteristically weak.

An overpowering mix of stress and strain washes over him, pooling up into watery blobs and flowing down his cheeks in faint streaks as he silently wept.

"Fuck," Leona curses, pulling your dozing form closer to him. "Fuck. Fuck, I'm sorry. You don't deserve this."

✩—AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

The torment of nightmares was far worse than he remembered, but this dread he felt was unquestionably different, pressing in on him like a frigid cold. The icy sensation seeps into the marrows and dips of his flesh—his sole respite being your touch, which both warmed and scorched at his skin.

"Angelfish." Azul breathlessly sputtered, blindly patting around the bed in search of your body.

Through the fringes of his blacked out vision, he could barely make out your worried drowsy visage. This caused him to panic, pulse picking up, but you were quick to soothe him—reaching a hand out to press against his cheek. Finally finding you, the octo-mer pulled you towards his side of the bed, engulfing you in a tight hug.

Azul tried to stop the flood of tears that layered his face, but your soft lips strewn with kisses on his skin seemed to further elicit his unceasing cries.

"I'm not going anywhere, Azul. I'm here." You whisper, cradling his face, but he was inconsolable. The octo-mer desperately clawed at your shirt as he pressed his ear deeper against your chest, practically melting into you.

The throbs of your heart echoed through his anguished mind, providing him with some semblance of comfort.

"Don't go….Please…" Azul sputters, body shaking from every deep, labored heave of his burning lungs, "Please."

✩—JAMIL VIPER:

A strangled scream awoke you from your abyssal sleep, your bleary eyes ripping open to dart here and there around the room in a manic frenzy. The ensuing shattering smash of a glass further threw your thoughts into disarray.

"Jamil?!"

Your lover had stumbled off of the bed, now kneeling against the wooden flooring with the bedsheets pooling around his hips, sheets damp from the shattered glass of water on the floor.

A bloody hand clenched at his palpitating heart, glass shards digging into his skin, as his lungs fought to maintain his breathing.

You sprang from the mattress and skidded in his direction, but Jamil scrambled away from you.

"Albi, no. There's glass. Stay away. You're going to get hurt," Jamil stammered. Holding a shaky hand up, the boy avoided your gaze.

"Jamil—" Brows pinched together, you eased towards him. "I'm not going to get hurt, don't worry."

You stepped over the shards of crystal glass with caution and made your way past, "See?"

Once you were within his reach, Jamil caved in and slowly brought you into his arms—careful with his injury. He could feel the distant sting of the cuts on his hands, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Leaning down, he lay his head over your heart. Even though the batter of your heart was frantic and panicked, it somewhat provided a steady beat for him to follow as he worked to untangle the complexities in his thoughts. Your lover sunk against you, anchoring himself against the warmth your body radiated.

✩—IDIA SHROUD:

As the minutes pass, Idia was rapidly losing every meagre amount of confidence he managed to scrape together.

"Idia…honey? Please get up." You croon, running a hand through his flaming hair.

Though it seemed as if he didn't hear anything—Idia kept his head glued against your beating chest, refusing to get up from his position on the floor.

He's been kneeling before you for so long that the rough fabric of his pants burned and skidded against the tender skin of his knees, sending excruciating stings along the threads of his flesh.

"I—No…N-No…I can't." Idia's lips quiver, eyes glossing over as he diverts his gaze. The weight of his arms lay heavy against your legs, elbows resting by your knees while his dull nails dug into the skin at the back of your thighs.

"Why's that?" You whisper.

Idia shut his eyes. The flash of numerous dreams and nightmares he's suffered at the hands of his own demented twisted memories clouded his mind. It did not help that they were all molded out of his own self-inflicted pessimism...cruel and unforgiving. A reason as to why he couldn't bear to look at you tonight, not when the image of your mangled body was still fresh on his mind.

"I-I'm s-sor-sorry…I ca-can't get up…I need to…” he stumbles for words, his breathing picking up its pace. "I need to…need to know you're okay."

✩—VIL SCHOENHEIT:

"Vil…" You worriedly murmur, pressing your lips against his mascara-stained cheeks, not minding the bitter aftertaste it left lingering in your mouth.

Laying atop the plush silk sheets of his king-sized bed, the dorm leader's eyes were ripped wide open as his chest heaved viciously. It was quite a rare sight as your lover lay vulnerable before you, heart bared open.

Oh, he was an absolute mess.

Dark streams of teary mascara ran down Vil's cheeks, his uniform wrinkled and his golden hair splayed out everywhere—unbound from its braids and tangled up.

The grip of his arms around your midsection tightens as he pressed you up closer against him, his head resting atop your chest. At the sound of your heartbeat, Vil allowed himself to unwind and let your affections banish away even the most ominous of his thoughts.

"Liebling…Es tut mir ehrlich Leid—" Vil rasps, his mother tongue dripping like honey from his lips as he suddenly found it difficult to speak the language he was so accustomed to every day.

Hushing him, you press a fleeting kiss against his brow line and Vil clamps his red-rimmed eyes shut, ceasing to say anything more.

"Hush now. Rest, my prince." You press a gentle kiss to his temple and brush the frizzes of his blonde hair away from his face.

A small smile quirks on his lips as he feels his stomach fluttering from the nickname. The look in his eyes is softly lit, warm like a candle.

✩—MALLEUS DRACONIA:

One day, Malleus knows, you will be nothing more than wilted and withered ash.

It was a truth that wrapped around him like shackling chains—tearing, whipping and lashing against his raw, bare skin. No matter how hard he pulled, scratched, and screamed at it, the chains remained.

The clanging and grating iron truth about reality cannot be so easily pushed away. Human lives are fickle, and you would inevitably leave him.

Once you do, the fae prince knows he will be a mere shadow of his former self, a wretched and lonesome creature awaiting and longing for his lover who was no more than a ghost of his fleeting memories.

"I apologize for the disturbance, my treasure."

And yet, Malleus presses his hand firmly against your beating heart. A distant marching beat serving as his reminder that you were very much alive and well.

"I truly apologize." Malleus heaves, hands clamouring against your collarbone.

Although thick tension and silence still hung heavy in the air, the dragon basked in the warmth and feel of your flushed skin, a bitter smile gracing his lips as he lay beside you on the bed.

"Sweet dreams, beastie…"

—TAGLIST:

꒰ ♡🧷: if you want to be tagged for ALL of my works, comment here!

@keedas @spadecentral @crypticbibliophile @pastellepastary @cassidycampfire @cocomollo @poisonioushearts @kawaiipotatoghost @ramvuda @sweeneyblue1 @the-lost-anime-dad @kyraxiyn @skadi-winterfell @mushroomchaos101 @rainybeebs @taruruchi @fluffimemes @awkwardspontaneity @phoneandchips @gussuri

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vmpyria · 3 months

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you’re a fool for trying to escape the radio demon.

you thought you were clever, that you could outsmart one of the most powerful overlords in hell.

how stupid can you be?

hiding out in a small house, away from most of the hellosh population. it was far from the city, far from the hotel, far from him.

you thought you were safe.

sighing softly, you quietly scribbled down — journaling. a thing you had learned in the hotel, to write your emotions down, express them and feel better.

initially, you thought it was silly, a stupid way to cope that didn’t work. that is, until you escaped from him. your escape was planned, at least to the best of your ability. you weren’t completely isolated from the people in the hotel, but your meetings were limited, alastor did have rules..

the biggest one being: do not let them know you were being held against your will.

you needed to play wife, and you did, but that didn’t stop you from planning an escape from this hell hole.

anyway, journaling was a new hobby of yours.

you’ve come to remember your time with alastor, your first meeting, how he trapped you, what he did to you, and how you escaped. now you’re writing about your new life, a quiet life, a life you’re still getting adjusted to.

you were paranoid, scared, but feeling..better.

all of the doors to the small house were locked, so were the windows, and the windows had curtains.

you were locked away and isolated, but at least you weren’t with him.

that’s all that matters..right?

“oh, darling! there you are!”

that stupid fucking voice, the stupid old times voice, one that sounded like it was coming through an old radio. at the sound of his voice, your undead heart stopped dead in hits tracks.

your breath caught in your throat, your hand gripped the pen tightly. before you even realized it your vision got cloudy, tears were filling your eyes.

a hand came to your shoulder, squeezing it tightly. you tensed, the tears began to fall from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks as the atmosphere turned dark, tension filling the air.

the static got louder and his grip got tighter.

“this was fun, don’t you think?” he asked, leaning down, hunching over you. his horns growing longer and his body contorting slowly.

you turned around, looking over at alastor with fear behind your gaze.

his demon form terrified you, you never became found of him. he was horrifying. your eyebrows raised, furrowing upward, your tears flowing.

“now, y/n. my darling,” alastor said, his claw-like hands reaching out for your face. his grin was never ending, even now. he was snarling, his hands finally grabbed your head, his nails digging into your skin.

his grip on you was tight, painful, he might even be breaking your delicate skin.

“why would you do that?” he whispered, his voice low and dangerous.

the room was dark, his eyes glowing as symbols filled the air.

“i-“ you stammered, what were you supposed to say?

i hate you and i never wanted to see you again?

no, he’d beat you, restrain you, keep you isolated from the world. in the best scenario, he would kill you, but you didn’t want to die by his hand.

you gulped, choking back a sob. you hated how weak he made you feel, how terrified he made you.

“i-i’m..sorry.” you stammered fearfully.

a laugh boomed from his chest, a bitter laugh, a cruel laugh. “you’re sorry?” he mocked, after the stunt you pulled? after he was left to clean up your mess? answer all of the questions thrown his way by dear charlie?

now your want to apologize?

“i thought you were better than this, darling! you know how much i hate people that cross me..” he sighed dramatically, grinning angrily. almost as if he was holding back from ripping your body apart. “i never expected you to go against me!” he said loudly, pushing you against the desk where your journal was. the impact was hard enough to make the book fall, catching alastor’s attention as his ear twitched.

you were trembling like leaf, watching as he reached for your journal, filled with all of your memories and thoughts.

filled with paragraphs where you expressed how much you loathed him.

“oh? what’s this?” he mused.

“no! please!” you cried, falling to your knees as you tried to reach for the book, trying to take it away from him before he grabbed it.

alastor scoffed, pushing you aside, grabbing the book. curious on what could you be hiding that’s so important, important enough for you to try to hide it.

he’s tired of your secrets.

taking the book in his hands, alastor opened it, flipping through various pages filled with your words before landing on one.

‘i hated having to play his stupid wife, like, did i have to pretend i loved him? oh, so the daughter of lucifer wouldn’t think badly of him. duh. why does he even care about the hotel? he never told me, i’m sure it’s some stupid scheme to gain power. i hate him and i hate that stupid hotel.’

his pupil seemed to get smaller, anger bubbling inside him as he flipped through another page.

‘i hate alastor, i hate him, more than hate him. despise, loathe? i don’t know. i just hate him. i never knew what he saw in me and—‘

alastor’s claws dug into the paper, ripping up the pages. looking over at your pathetic form on the floor, look a deer caught in headlights.

terrified.

“my, is that how you really feel?” he hummed, stepping closer to you, holding the book to your face. “I—I-“ you stammered, skimming through the lines.

quickly, you shook your head desperately. alastor laughed, it almost sounded like growl, throwing the book to the side, he grabbed your chin and pulled you closer.

“you’re lucky i care deeply about you,” he growled, squeezing your chin tightly, all the sobs you were holding back before slipped. crying like a little baby as he grinned, if you survived this, you didn’t even want to imagine what he would do to you.

alastor moved his hand, gripping your hair tightly before pulling you up with a yank, “we’re going back to the hotel, you’re going to say that you were busy with some business, and you’re never going to pull a stunt like this again.” he threatened.

you cried, nodding, babbling apologies like a baby.

this was a second chance, one that you didn’t want — but at least you wouldn’t get killed by him.

you’ve seen what he’s capable of, you’ve seen him eat and maul anyone that dared to even look at him badly.

alastor grabbed your wrist, pulling you close as he morphed back to his regular self. “understand, my dear?” he mused, gripping you tightly, making sure you had no chance of pulling anything stupid.

you nodded, hiccuping and sniffling, you didn’t want to die.

you truly were lucky.

#𖤐 . WRITINGS #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere #yandere x reader

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osachiyo · 5 months

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USING THE SAFEWORD - gojo , geto , toji , nanami

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ c/w. . . n/sft content (mdni), fem!reader, choking, overstimulation, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, hurt + comfort, use of the safeword, oral (f + m receiving), reader is unable to use safeword in some of these, these men are so soft for you please don't be too mad at em :(

disclaimer ! safe words and boundaries are very crucial when having intercourse. never ever ever feel shy to use your safeword because it literally is there for your safety.

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ note. . . I've been wanting to write something like this for a while <3 lmk if y'all want a bsd version next :D as always, happy reading and hope y'all enjoy !

Satoru

You felt dizzy─ so fucking dizzy as Satoru's fingers tightened around your neck. You tried to let him know by slapping his forearms, clawing at them─ doing anything to get him to loosen his grin but to your fear, he was too deep in the pleasure of your sweet cunt gave him. His free hand only pinned your hands above your head─ grumbling something about you to "keep still 'n let me fuck you right".

This was getting bad─ black spots started to appear in your vision, tears gathering in your lashline as you flailed and kicked your legs─ desperate to tell him you don't want this anymore. The continous thrusts of his hips made you sick to your stomach─ fuck, were you gonna pass out? fortunately for you, as if the heavens had heard your aching pleas, Satoru's grip loosened a tad─ just enough for you to gurgle out your safeword. It took satoru a full few seconds to register what flew out of your mouth─ quickly getting off of you, his still hardened cock pulling out of your cunt. His brows were pinched as a worried frown graced his shiny lips, "babe─"

That's when he realized the tears pouring out of your eyes weren't because of pleasure─ but pain. He reached a hand out to you but that only made you flinch away, your eyes widening in fear and for a split moment, he felt his heart stop. Fuck, what did he just do?

Satoru's own eyes were open wide, hands balling into tight fists as he watched you sniffle and shiver, small hiccups leaving your swollen lips. "Fuck I─ baby, I'm so sorry, I just─" he thought about what to say next─ that he lost control? That he never meant to hurt you? He swallowed hard, pretty eyes glossed over from worry and pure guilt.

You sniffled before laying on your back, lifting your arms to make grabby hands at satoru who only let out a breath of relief, gently cradling your face in his palms as he sputtered apologies after apologies to you─ hands shaky as he pulled you to his chest and muttered soft "I love you's" and "I'm so sorry's" into your hair, soft lips pressing gentle but reassuring kisses on the top of your head he holds you against his chest.

After a few moments, the snow haired man finally found it in himself to speak, "what happened, baby? Did I go too hard?" His voice was barely above a whisper. You nuzzled your face further into his chest─ tears smudging on his skin as you shook your head, "jus' couldn't breathe," you peaked up at him, and his frown deepened, heart clenching as he stared at your glassy eyes. " 'm so sorry, sweet girl— does it hurt?" He rubbed little shapes into the bare skin of your back, lips pressing gentle kisses on your temple. You finally smiled, shaking your head again— "no, jus' a little bit sore. Think there'll be marks though."

Satoru let out a breath of relief at that, shoulders burying his face into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. "That's good— don't want my pretty girl to be in pain." You hummed in response, staying like that for a while— basking in the comforting silence until you spoke up again.

"Toru?"

"Hm?"

"Let me choke you instead."

Suguru

You've been like this for god knows how long— spread across your shared bed, knees to your chest and with Suguru between your legs, making out with your cunt.

"Holy fuck— this pussy is so fuckin' perfect f'me, isn't she?" He growls— talking as if your pussy was a living being. You only moaned in response, trying to buck your hips up to meet his mouth, only to receive a harsh slap on your clit from Suguru. He 'tsked', running his clean hand through his raven locks before glaring at you, "stop—" smack! "movin'—" smack! "s'much—" smack! "whore—" smack! Each word was punctuated by a harsh slap to your pussy. You squealed with each hit— poor cunt burning from the brutal treatment your boyfriend was giving you.

He went back to using his tongue, but something was wrong— it didn't feel good anymore, only pain. Hours of overstimulation mixing with the pain of his harsh hits only made it sting and burn.

"Sugu! h-hurts— no more!" You babbled, but he couldn't hear you— too busy eating your pussy which basically had him in a trance, leaving you with no choice but to whimper out your safeword.

It took him a couple of seconds to register before he paused— blinking up at you before apologies after apologies left his mouth, checking to see if you were hurt anywhere before you calmed him down by placing a hand on his chest, " 'm not hurt, Sugu— jus'.. too much," you panted, letting him pick you up and place you on his lap— " 'm so sorry, princess. Didn't mean too go too far," there was genuine regret in his voice, the bottom half of his face still soaked with your juices. You reached a palm to wipe off the liquid from his chin before grinning up at him— he only kissed your cheek in return.

"You forgive me?" He pulled away to look at you, a small pout adorning his thin lips. You only kissed his nose in response, earning a chuckle from him, "I'll take that as a yes then."

You two stayed like that for a couple minutes— just in each other's arms as Suguru started humming a random song, the gentle tone of his soothing voice slowly lulled you to sleep, not before you heard a faint, "I love you so much, angel," accompanied by a soft kiss on your shoulder.

Toji

"Oh, fuuck— yeah, fuckin' slut— takin' me s'well in that tight lil' throat, heh," Toji growled, hips bucking up into your face as you gagged and choked around his unbelievably fat cock. Tears and snot were dripping down your face— ruining the picture perfect makeup you had worked so hard for, mascara running down your swollen cheeks in inky streaks, lipstick smudged all over your lips and even staining your boyfriend's length in rings.

Seriously, though. Did you really expect him to be gentle with you after prancing around in that tiny little dress the whole evening? You should be grateful he didn't bend you over the dinner table and fuck you in front of your friends and co-workers.

He basically shoved you down to your knees once you arrived back home— slapping the leaky tip of his flushed cock against your face a couple times before stuffing it into your poor throat and here you were— getting used by Toji Fushiguro like his personal flleshlight as you went light headed from being deprived of breathing for so long. It seems as if he had forgotten you were human and needed to breathe— the tightness of your throat basically making his mind go blank.

You tried to scratch, claw and slap his thighs— which only made him fuck your face with more vigor, not realizing those were signs telling him to stop.

A sloppy mixture of your drool and his precum dripped down your chin in stringy webs, making a mess on the polished floor beneath you as he yanked you by the makeshift ponytail he made— pulling you off his cock with a wet "pop!", giving you the chance to gurgle out your safeword breathlessly. Toji's eyes visibly widened, slowly letting your hair go before kneeling in front of you, gently patting your back as you coughed and heaved— trying to get air back in your poor lungs.

"Too much?" His voice was gravelly, as he wiped the sweat off your face, helping you back up to your feet. You could only nod in response, his brows pinching as tears kept rolling down your face. Gently sitting you down on the couch before he walked away to get you some water.

You immediately relaxed feeling the cool water hit your throat, soothing the bruising throb of pain your boyfriend's cock had given you.

He placed the glass away before sitting next to you, wordlessly wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you to his lap.

"Sorry I went too far, ma', wan' me to make it up to ya?" He whispered into the softness of your hair, gigantic hands playing with your much smaller ones as you leaned into him.

"Mhm, can you or—" "Order Chinese? Got'cha," he cut you off, pulling his phone out from his pocket. You smiled, snuggling further into him, "and cuddles." Rolling his eyes, he hummed, "Anything my princess wants."

Kento

"Slap!"

The deafening noise cut through the heavy tension in the room, your ass burning from the sting of Kento's harsh palm cracking down on the soft fat— "t-twenty f-four!"

He hummed, voice deep as his rough palm smoothed over the battered skin of your ass, spreading your cheeks to peak at your sopping cunt— the vibrator set on it's highest setting, but he knew better than to let you cum. Right as you were about to release all over the sheets— the vibrations of the small pink toy suddenly stopped, cruelly ripping your orgasm away from your grasp. A pitiful sob left your lips, legs thrashing around— "no! W-why, please— p-please let me cum, Ken—" Another brutal slap to your bruised ass cut you off, a low growl leaving Kento's lips as he smacked you again and again— your wails egging him on further— "fucking count."

The safeword left your lips before you could even think— hiccups and sobs escaping your throat. Your husband stopped immediately upon hearing the magic word— snapping out of his daze and rushing to your side. "Are you okay, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?" His voice was laced with worry, his heart ached in regret as he watched you sniffle, curling to yourself.

"Fuck, love— I'm so sorry I—" He quickly undid your restraints and took the vibrator out of you, tossing it aside before grabbing a glass of water and handing it to you. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Does it hurt too much?"

You shook your head, to his relief, and took the glass of water from him— muttering a small "thanks."

After you had fully calmed down, he also applied some ointment on your sore bottom, being as gentle as possible not to hurt you.

He also ate you out later— to make up for all the edging, Small apologies were leaving his lips the entire time as he made out with your cunt— calling you his good girl, placing a gentle kiss on your clit after you reached your peak.

note. im sorry if this sucks ass ya'll, i had this sitting in my drafts for a while and just had to get it out :(

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated ♡

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ghouljams · 5 months

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König is so mean treating you like a toy when he fucks you. Pulling your legs up to his shoulders, your ankles by his ears as he crowds his fat cock into you. He cages you in with strong arms, squeezing your thighs together between his biceps to make you just that much tighter as his hands cup to back of your neck and curl you towards him. He forces you to look him in the eye as he fucks you, tips your head further to watch him bulge out your stomach with his thick cock.

"Look at that," he breathes, "stupid little toy, only good for taking my cock, ja?" You whine, the feeling of his dick stretching you out is already too much but the position lets him force his length so much deeper. He hits something overwhelming and electric in the pit of your stomach, and he keeps hitting it. Over and over, dragging your body down against his thrusts until you can't get a breath in to scream. The pleasure sticks in your chest, compounding as you try to arch your back, try to wiggle away, try to claw at his thick biceps for something to hold onto. Your stomach is tight, tight, tight, as his cock punches that deep spot, so good it hurts. Tears bead at the edges of your vision as you choke on a sob. You can feel yourself gushing around his dick, slick dripping off of you and onto the floor next to his desk. Someone will have to clean that up, with any luck he'll force your head down to do it yourself. Always a caring colonel.

"So wet meine liebe," he chuckles, leaning close to watch your face contort with pleasure, there's something almost pitying in his gaze, patronizing, "taking everything I give you. Not a thought in that silly head of yours. You like being a toy liebchen?"

"Yes," you whine, gasping and moaning as his cock drives into you.

"Yes?" He coos, his voice cold and patronizing. He fucks your approval out of you, your 'yes' mixing with pleas and screams as you claw at his skin for some release on the pressure building inside of you. Something snaps suddenly, some valve breaks and you gush around him, squirting against his stomach and clenching tight around his cock. He groans, a breathless chuckle dripping from his lips as your slick smears your thighs. "There it is," he grins, switching his grip to hold you by the throat, pinning you to his desk, "pretty baby, my stupid pretty baby."

You scratch at his wrist as he pound into you, the angle just slightly kinder. The friction of his cock in and out of your poor abused cunt only builds heat in your stomach again. You can't do more than moan as König's hips slap against your ass, his pace growing faster as he chases his own high. His words turn to growls and grunts, until he snaps his hips tight against yours and groans low, his hot cum spilling inside you. You whine, feel his grip change to rub his thumb against your cheek before patting it, affectionate but rough enough to keep you in the scene.

He clicks his tongue, "What a mess you've made liebchen, I thought I trained you better than that."

"I'm sorry colonel," you hum, your legs shaking and your hips aching when he lets them drop to the floor.

"You're sorry?" His thumb rubs against your lips, fingers firm under your chin as he pulls you to sit up, "Then you'd better apologize properly."

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #könig x reader #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig fanfiction #könig call of duty #konig x reader #konig #oc: fetch #könig x oc #f!reader #x f!reader #female reader #demon!darlings au

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bunny584 · 2 months

Text

OBSESSED: GETO (PT. II)

A/N: I…guys this one is…dirty. For so many reasons. I don’t. I can’t look myself in the eye. Suguru made me do it 😅

C/W: Voyeurism, Mature themes, 18+ (Part I here)

Music inspo: This is SO Chase Atlantic coded

Acceptance.

They say the first step to recovery from addiction is acceptance.

Fine, then.

Suguru Geto’s addiction to you is absolute. And he has no interest in recovery.

He’s accepted it. You own him.

Granted, he didn’t realize just how tight your leash is. Not until last night.

Suguru is a logical, reasonable, creature of habit. He doesn’t need much. Really, he doesn’t.

But fucking you to sleep nightly is non-negotiable.

Or rather, fucking his hand. While watching you watch TV. And swirl a glass of Pinot noir in your gorgeous mouth. With your graceful fingers mindlessly swimming in a bowl of popcorn.

Extra butter. With tons and TONS of salt!

The first time you ordered your side snack at the movie theatre, Suguru almost keeled over.

But then he made the glorious mistake of flickering over to you, mid movie. Just as your index finger slid between those pillow soft lips. Pulling remnants of salt and butter away, leaving a trail of lip gloss behind.

He could’ve sucked it off your finger right there and then.

The way you pistoned in and out of your mouth. Doe-eyed and trained on the screen. Not a thought in your head. It was his gateway drug.

The butterfly effect.

A moment in time that rerouted fate.

His excruciatingly beautiful, platonic best friend, now a visceral need.

And just like any addiction. There were stages.

Denial: He doesn’t see you that way. No, of course not. His mind just got caught in a horny spiral. He’ll snap out of it. Things will go back to normal.

Anger: How could you do this to him? You know how disorienting you are. That smile. Always looking up at him with puppy eyes and parted lips. You’re a cocktease. Begging. Pleading. Needing him to debase you to nothing. Is that it? You want him to ruin you, don’t you? And he could. Fuck you into next week. Until you’re screaming and crying. He’d smear those tears all over his cock and fuck them back into your pouty mouth. It’s what you deserve.

Shame: It’s perverse. You call to vent about your day. He rubs himself raw while you talk. You kiss his cheek. His dick leaks. How could he do this to someone who trusts him like you do?

It was a vicious, muddled cycle. He could barely function around you.

Rushed greetings. Kurt words. Clipped responses. Avoidance.

He had to protect you from his depraved thoughts. Shield you from sordid actions taken in the dark — as if they would spontaneously materialize in the light to harm you.

And they did. But in the opposite way Suguru intended.

“Hey, HEY! Suguru, what the hell is up with you?”

You squeezed his wrist with all your might. It felt like nothing. But the weight in your tone hit him like a freight train.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been distant."

“I’ve been right here.”

“You’ve been distant, Suguru.”

Quartz showers streamed down your beautiful face and his cock quivered. Drooling along his thigh. So. Fucking. Pretty when you cry.

Did you know?

How irresistible you looked?

Glassy eyes. Trembling lips. Vulnerable. Soft enough to hunt.

Did you know?

How he clawed his palm bloody to keep from gripping your neck. Shoving you to your knees. And giving you a reason to whine his name like that again.

“Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“I have to go—“

“I don’t care!”

“Wha—“

“I don’t care!! I don’t care what it is okay? I just…I miss..I miss my best friend.”

You elevated off your heels. No where near eye level, but enough to cradle his face in your dainty hands.

And God dammit. He might as well have been wearing a dog tag with your name on it.

If lost, return to Owner.

Between your misty eyes. Swollen lips. Face like a canvas to paint with his cum. He bit back a pathetic groan. And choked out an apology.

Most importantly, he made a promise to never hollow out your friendship like that again.

So, instead he fills it. With ropes of his arousal. And fuck, it’s rhapsody.

The stages. The anger, disbelief, shame…it was worth it. Because this ecstasy? It’s sublime.

Constant ascension. Never once reaching cruising altitude.

…which made the fall agonizing.

Last night, in a sick, twisted turn of fate - his camera feed cut off.

One minute Suguru is pumping into his abused rubber cocksleeve. Sliding his eyes up and down your hips until he was dizzy in the head. Pre cum squelching out of the little space between his cock and the ring of his 5th battered toy. Unintelligible praises leaking out of him, cementing his devotion. And just as the curtains began to fall on his vision. Balls heavy and hot with his seed—

Then he saw nothing.

Suguru couldn’t recognize the man in his room last night. Fingers aching. Mind racing. Dick red, angry, pulsating for its one and only vice.

Alarm bells rang between his ears. Crash landing into an abyss. Mayday.

Mayday.

In that moment. He knew he needed more. More skin. More angles. More you.

And so, he’s standing outside your Pilates studio @ 7:28 PM. Two minutes until you’re done.

A Dragonfruit smoothie rests in his hand.

And a new camera system rests in his back pocket.

———

“Ugh, I needed that.”

You sling a cold eucalyptus towel around your neck.

“And I need him.” The comment emanates from one of your girlfriends. Both of you rounding the corner out of the studio.

Suguru.

You don’t have to look out the glass windows to know exactly who she is referring to.

“I mean, seriously. How can you not climb him like a—“

“Stop it!!” Your protest made less believable because of your sheepish giggles.

“We’re just friends.” You mutter. Pulling your gym bag out of the front lockers.

Yeah, who are you trying to convince? Her? Or yourself?

Your eyes flicker to your platonic, gorgeous best friend. Raven mane in a glossy, high ponytail. Freely cascading down his back. Curly wisps framing his razor sharp angles.

He stands tall. So Muscular. Quietly masculine. Despite how dreamy his hair is.

“Omg! Your hair!! Whats your routine?” - every woman who meets him, ever.

“Genetics.”

Suguru responds the same way every time with a dimpled smile. The other party is always immediately caught in his web.

His eyes. They lure you in like quicksand. Onyx. Swarming with grey and violet specks. Stormy. Perpetually faraway.

He’s the perfect gentleman. But always a little bit above it all. Just out of reach.

It’s mesmerizing.

You can’t blame the women for trying any and everything for a tiny piece.

Suguru catches your gaze. Silky smile pulls across his lips. He beckons you with one swirl of the liquid gold in his hands.

“What are you doing here, pretty boy?”

“Happy to see you too.” He counters with a low chuckle.

You coax the sweet treat away from him. It’s precisely what you need.

Suguru always has his pulse on you. Somehow he knows where to be and when. Every time.

“Mmm” your eyes flutter shut. Savoring the sickly sweet, cold mush on your tongue.

“Exactly what you wanted?”

“Exactly. Have I told you I love you lately?”

“Not nearly enough.” His baritone hovers over you. Traveling down your spine at light speed.

Has he always sounded this sultry?

You lazily pull yourself out of the sugar-induced dopamine hit.

Suguru moves into you like a storm cloud. Accentuating the comical difference in stature. The world around you slowly dissipates.

Lost in the desert mirage of his gaze. Everything feels conscious.

Your shallow breathing. The thrum of blood surging through your vessels. Heart rattling against its bony cage.

Time stops.

Then it happens all at once.

Before you know what is happening, your best friend’s well built arm is around your waist. His large, veiny hand palming the nape of your neck.

His lips. His plump rosy lips are on yours. Sweet and warm. Pulling, pushing, melding with you into play dough.

He’s delicious.

More delectable than you knew possible.

“Mmmgh” You moan and Suguru takes the space to push his tongue into your mouth. He’s blinding. Expertly tickling the ridges and corners of your mouth. As if to show off just how skilled he is with his tongue.

“S-Suguru..”

He pulls away far before you’re ready. Shocking you out of your lusty daze. For a moment he just rests his moist lips on yours. Exchanging breaths between each other. As if only you two are the source of oxygen around you.

“Wha…what was..”

“There’s a guy burning a crater into your back.” He finally responds. Gruff. Strained. You’ve never seen him without a tight leash around his self-command.

“I didn’t want him thinking he has a chance.”

And just like that, the familiar tame control lines his velvet baritone.

Suguru places a chaste kiss on your cheek before starting to walk in the direction of your apartment. As if the world didn’t just tilt on its axis.

You’re able to maintain a fairly normal conversation with your best friend the entire walk back to your apartment. You both laugh and joke as if he didn’t just fuck your mouth with his tongue. And as if you didn’t feel drunk off of it.

You’re just friends.

…right?

You toss your keys somewhere to your left. In the periphery you see Suguru smile and shake his head. Well aware of your messy tendencies. He leans down to take your keys and place them on the door hook.

The devil on your shoulder is deafening.

Test it.

Test him.

Your hand moves before your mind.

Your fingers hook under your sports bra. Pulling it over your head in one smooth motion. Before your mounds bounce in full view, your arm cups them against your chest.

You turn to Suguru, now topless.

“Gonna hop in the shower for a little. Are you staying for dinner?” Willing your voice to be steady and light. A casual question amidst the mayhem in your mind.

And, as expected, Suguru is the perfect gentleman.

His olive tone is even. Hands slotting into his athletic pants. Faint smile tracing on his lips, dimple apparent in his left cheek.

His eyes don’t falter below your neckline. Not even for a moment.

“Not tonight, pretty. There’s a show I want to catch. Rain check?”

Of course, you’re just friends.

Best friends.

You flash him a genuine smile. Swallowing the nagging flecks of dissappointnent beginning to weave itself within you.

“Rain check!”

And maybe 10 or so minutes after soaking in your steamy shower. Trying to wash the remnants of his kiss out of your memory, you hear your door slamming shut.

You make a mental note to ask about what show he was referring to.

———

Whiskey glides hot and cold down Suguru’s throat.

Back flushed against his desk chair.

Patiently awaiting his 10:00 PM viewing.

His dick is a steel rod. Blushing and moist. Draped in a pair of your used panties. He swiped them on his way out of your apartment.

Suguru drags his palm lazily up and down his shaft. Soaking your lingerie in beads of pre cum. It’s like he’s feeling you rubbing your plush cunt up and down his rod.

Fog is settling opaque in his mind. While he pets the flame stirring between his legs.

You haven’t even come into frame yet. But Suguru admires the pristine view he has of your room. Porcelain duvet messily strewn about. Half open night stand. Magenta vibrator propped against the corner of your drawer.

How often do you touch yourself?

What do you think about?

How pretty do you sound? When you milk pleasure from your dewy core?

“Fuck,” Suguru hisses.

He brings the whiskey glass back to his parted lips. The thought of seeing you work yourself to a peak drove his hand up and down his cock too fast. If he’s not careful he’ll cum before he’s ready.

No.

Not tonight.

Tonight he wants to savor his relapse.

24 hours sober of you was unbearable. He deserves this indulgence.

Suguru tilts his chin up. Damp hair feathering his shoulders and back feels refreshingly cool against the lava circulating beneath his skin.

“You like teasing me don’t you?” He murmurs, slowly pumping his cock through his strained grip.

The way you pulled off your sports bra. Well before you reached your bathroom door. Pretty bedroom eyes raking his face. Testing him. You knew he would go home and feverishly fuck his fist for you. Didn’t you?

A siren’s melody pulls his hazy, dazed attention back to screen.

“There she is.”

Suguru leans closer to his screens. Giving himself kudos for choosing a camera system with audiovisual integration this time around.

You step in full view of his camera and his body stills. Completely statuesque. Mouth ajar. His cock drool dribbling down his stiff hand is the only source of movement in the room.

“Fuck…fucking hell.”

There you stood. Thong as richly colored as the wine in your glass. Accentuating the dramatic dip and swell of your pretty waist and hips. The wavy lines from your slender shoulders to your full tits are enough to make him seasick. Your nipples are so hard. Puffier than he imagined.

You are immaculate.

A divine being. Heaven’s incarnate.

And even if you weren’t. Even if you were the devil. He’d follow you to the depth of hell.

A thick surge of pre cum flicking back against his lower abs pulls him briefly out of his trance. Suguru didn’t realize how hard he was strangling his length. Which is violently jerking in haphazard directions.

Begging for its real owner.

Suguru drags in a deep breath. Reluctantly unraveling his needy hand away from his manhood. Another sip of icy brown liquor.

Savor this.

As if your souls are tied, you take a sip of red wine before settling in your bed. Back against your head board. Feet planted on your plush duvet. You let your knees fall to the side and Suguru nearly drools on himself.

A blooming rose.

Presenting your swollen, misty petals to him for worship. His eyes drop to your core. A thin line of fabric laid so perfectly between your folds.

Suguru has to remind himself that you aren’t in front of him.

And he can’t just dive into your dewy cunt. And nuzzle against your bud. And lap up the honey in between your folds.

You rest your head against the wall. Exposing the delicate lines of your neck. His left hand magnets back to his cock. His right hits the record function on the screen.

You are too special not to capture.

But, even if he couldn’t record you on this system, every moment right now is etched into his mind for an eternity.

Especially the way your dainty fingers travel down your chest, along your torso, beneath the hem of your panties and settle over your clit.

“That’s it, princess.” Suguru chants beneath his clipped breaths. Dragging your soaked underwear along his messy shaft.

He matches his pace to your tiny circles. Small, gorgeous pants tumble out of you.

Your other hand palms at your tits. Pinching and pulling at your pert nipples. Your hips buck at the sweet pleasure and pain.

“Good girl”

His arousal continues to collect at his base, trickling to his inner thighs. The sound of his hilt slamming into his hand fill the room.

“God. S..Suguru…”

His name thunders between his ears.

His name wrapped in that melodic, lusty falsetto of yours.

Suguru’s brain can barely register the way your tits bounce in rhythm with your hands. Pistoning your fingers in and out of your sweet cunt. Ascending to euphoria. He can barely register the way your lips are swollen and abused from your teeth. Or the light sheen of sweat along your collarbones.

“Fuck, Suguru please..” you moan. Both hands now working your flower.

Suguru is slack jawed. Completely short circuited. He cannot move.

Unblinking, he studies you. Hands at his side. Cock spearing high in the air, leaking.

His mind is flooded with the thin, featherlight moans and whines. Sticky arousal leaks from your needy opening around your fingers. Coating your inner thighs. How you twist and groan away from your own pleasure - so clearly overstimulated but not stopping your fingers, anyway.

“Say my name, pretty girl. Say my name.” Suguru rasps out. Sharp pain lightening through him from the dryness in his throat.

And you do. You moan his name when you reach nirvana. Heaving and whining and squirming in your mess. You called for him.

“God, I’m disgusting.”

You laugh through the remnants of your high and bury yourself under the duvet. Lazily tapping the bedside lamp. Bringing Suguru’s private viewing to an end.

And his smile is vulturous.

Suguru’s hand runs the length of his insatiable cock. Slow, lazy strokes. Haphazard twitches pushing out globs of cum. Begging for an encore.

You think you’re disgusting?

Ohhh, sweet girl.

You don’t know the half of it.

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writtenbymoonflower · 3 months

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Dinner

You have a panic attack and your boys comfort you. poly!maruaders x fem!reader

cw: panic attack, negative self talk, swearing, mention of raw chicken (ew ik)

1.7k words (it's long i'm sorry)

You never thought you would cry over chicken, but here you were. You knew that you had been having a lot of busy days as of late, there were a million things swimming about in your head. But you were managing it well, or at least you thought you were. But then it all came down.

You had bought a pack of chicken earlier in the week to cook for dinner one night. It had been on clearance so you knew it was on its way out, but you thought you would’ve had more time. You opened your fridge so you could begin cooking before your boyfriends were going to get too hungry, when you realized that the meat was out of date by a whole three days. It was something so small, yet, it sent a billion anxious thoughts jumping around your head like they were on pogo sticks, and most of them were not very nice.

How could you be so stupid? You should’ve checked the date. If you hadn't been so lazy earlier this week you wouldn’t be wasting this food. Now there was nothing to cook and your boyfriends would go hungry. They would likely end up resenting you for being a shit girlfriend and being so-

“Dolly? What are you doing over there?” Usually Sirius’ voice was a comfort to you, but right now it just added to your misery. It reminded you of all your failures and why you would never be good enough for anyone.

Tears started filling your eyes. You tried to still your shaking hands and even your breathing, but it was all too much. They were going to realize your mistake and were going to be angry. His footsteps were painful and your other boyfriends’ laughter in the other room made you wince. When Sirius finally was facing you, your attempt at a facade fell apart. He knew you too well and apparently your body just decided to give over to panic because you suddenly couldn’t catch your breath. You tried to mutter out an apology but your voice was caught in your throat and your pulse was hammering.

“ Hey.” Sirius’ dark brows scrunched in concern, his gray eyes searching your face and scanning your body for any injury. “What’s wrong?” His voice was raised in panic as you stood and shook.

Apparently Sirius’ voice triggered your other two boyfriends to barrel into the room, but you refused to look at any of them, opting to hold the chicken package behind your back and stare at the ground. James thought you looked like a small child standing in front of a broken glass, ready to be reprimanded and punished. It made his heart ache.

“Baby,” Sirius continued to beg for a response. “What’s happened? You’re scaring me.” Remus placed a soothing hand on his partner’s back while James scooted past the both of them to grab your shoulders and stoop to see your face.

“Hey, hey, hey. Sweetheart, can you look at me?” James spoke softly. He was just as concerned as the other two, but James was better at keeping his head, even though inside he wanted to sob seeing you like this. You swallowed thickly and looked up at him.

“There you go.” Remus whispered encouragement from behind James. Your chest was still heaving and you were still crying, but now they could read your face better.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I-” You choked out, hoping that if you spoke about your failure early enough they might forgive your mistake.

“Hey, not right now. Just focus on me, honey. I think you’re having a panic attack, I need you to try and steady your breathing.” James motioned the other two over, Remus getting behind you and pulling you both to the ground so he could rock you in his lap. Sirius and James sat and each took one of your hands, James putting the one he was holding on his chest, while Sirius put the other on yours. (After throwing the chicken on the counter, opting to ask questions after you could speak again.) You stifled another sob from wracking your body.

“We’ve got you, sweet girl. Just copy Prongs’ breaths, yeah?” Sirius used his free hand to tilt your chin up to meet the eyes of the two boys in front of you. You could feel James’ chest rising and falling as he took deep, exaggerated breaths. Your first few were shaky and clumsy, but soon you were finally able to get a comfortable amount of air in your lungs and your tears slowed to a stop. You still felt guilty, but at least now your head wasn’t so loud. You pulled your hands back into your lap.

“There you go,” Remus soothed from behind you. “Atta girl.” He pressed gentle kisses all over the side of your neck. You could see the two boys in front of you visibly relax at your now calmer state. “Good girl, you did so well. I know that was scary.” Remus turned so you were sitting sideways in his lap and you could see all three of the boys sitting around you.

“ Thank you for helping.” You said sheepishly, looking down at your fidgeting hands. “I’m sorry I did that, I know it was a lot.”

“None of that.” Sirius said firmly. “It’s not your fault, baby. You didn’t do it to be bad, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Wrong. You thought to yourself, remembering the spoiled food now sitting on the counter.

“Can you tell us what happened, lovely?” James ducked his gaze to meet yours, his brown eyes were sad and confused and swimming with all too much love.

You really didn’t want to admit your mistake, but they deserved an explanation for your erratic behavior.

“It’s really nothing that bad.” You tried to console, as if you weren’t the one shaking on the floor not two minutes ago. “I was just-” You swallowed hard again. “I was being stupid.” You went back to picking at your nails. Your self-deprecating comment made Remus raise an eyebrow and Sirius lightly pinch your thigh.

“You weren’t. You’re never stupid, be nice.” Remus (lovingly) scolded.

“I was just, I bought this chicken.” You struggled to keep your breathing even. “I bought this chicken earlier this week and I was going to cook it, but I was too lazy these last few days and I fucked up and I-” You bit hard on your lip to keep from crying again. James desperately wanted to reprimand you for your self-cruelty, but he settled for grabbing Sirius’ hand and squeezing, not wanting to cut you off.

“Go on, sweetheart. Take your time.” James spoke even softer.

“I let the chicken go bad. I wanted to cook tonight but when I went to grab the chicken it was bad and I just- I just felt bad because I can’t do anything right. I had all week to make it and now I can’t cook for you all and I just- I just feel bad.” You took another deep breath, still not wanting to meet their eyes.

“Oh, my baby.” Sirius lunged forward, wrapping you in his arms before you could even process what was happening. Remus huffed grumpily over you being stolen from his lap, but let it go. “That’s what you were all worked up about? That’s why you were all scared?” You nodded, your face still stuck in the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay,” James soothed, now smoothing a gentle path up and down your back. “That happens to everyone, sweetheart. It’s not something you need to be mad at yourself for. You didn’t do anything wrong, and you weren’t lazy. You’ve been busy and tired. It just happens.” James thought he could cry, his girl was so hard on herself that she was all panicked over something like this.

“Exactly.” Remus said. “It’s nothing we can’t fix, dove. We can go to the store tomorrow and you can make it then.” You started to protest, wanting to go tonight but you were quickly cut off. “Tomorrow.” Remus was firm, but no less kind. “You aren’t doing any work tonight. You need to rest. We’ll figure something out for dinner, it’s no trouble.”

You were going to argue but you figured it was a losing battle.

“Thought you would be mad at me.You should be mad at me. I fucked u-” You couldn’t even finish the sentence before James squawked, Sirius sputtered, and Remus inhaled sharply. Sirius forced your head out of his neck to look at you.

“What?!” He looked genuinely offended.

“Lovely,” James was the one who formed a full sentence. “We would never be mad at you for something like this. Never.” He grabbed your chin to make you look at him. “Look at us, sweet girl. No ones mad at you. We care about you, not a pack of chicken. It’s not worth you being this mean to yourself, nothing is.” He pouted during the last sentence.

“Also,” Sirius said, still being very gentle. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t just about chicken, dollface. You’ve been really stressed lately.”

“And you’ve been really hard on yourself. You always have been, but it’s gotten worse.” Remus’ voice sounding sad. You knew he was right though.

“I know.” You sighed, dejectedly. “I’ll try to be better.” You gave them all a tight-lipped smile.

“That’s what we mean!” James whined. “You don’t need to ‘be better.’ You just need to be gentle with yourself.”

“It’s just hard.” You admitted.

“I know it is, baby.” Sirius empathized. Then his face morphed into his usual grin. “How about, we all lead by example. I know I can be very nice to you.” He took your cheeks in both his hands and started pressing kisses all over your face. You giggled wetly, trying to squirm out of his grasp. “There, like that. Nice.”

“I don’t know how she is gonna do that, Pads. It’s hard to kiss your own face.” Remus attempted (and failed) to keep the amused tilt out of his voice.

“Oh no!” James dramatically gasped. “I guess we’ll just have to.” He beamed, taking your jaw in his hand to smear even more kisses on your cheeks.

#marauders #marauders fanfiction #drabble #fluff #james potter #marauders fandom #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #this is my first poly!m fic #i will get better i promise

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Text

men that make you cry during sex. Sure, they’ll feel bad about it also turns them on. The type of man that loves laying you on your back, folding your legs up and fucking you into total submission. The type that likes to feed you deep strokes..curled up into a mating press with his entire body burrowed over you. His favorite position, all because he gets the honor of staring at your pretty face while he’s in it. It’s not one he takes lightly because he knew how many men wanted you; that his girl turned heads everywhere you went but he was the only one to have you coming all over his dick. Making a mess of that sloppy cunt and sloshing around his own nut that he’s nestled into you prior. Making you experience one powerful orgasm right after the next with no end in sight..yes, he knows he’s killing your shit, that much is apparent by the various marks you’ve left on his back and arms, clawing them up with the constant pressure of his tip prodding your spot. “G’ahh—baby, yes. You’re so close. So fucking tight..” grunting aggressively against your lips with your foreheads pressed together; sweat beaded and trickling down his face. It’s when he relentlessly pounds you, bringing you to another climax that you instantly come undone and start trembling immensely. Your choked out screams trapped in the back of your throat, eyes trailing back before you emit a loud cry and the tears to follow. You find yourself gasping for breath, holding onto his burly arms for some semblance of stability as you try to ride out that orgasm. “FUCK! Oh my god…” It takes him a minute to realize that you’re in full blown hysterics, sobbing from the intensity. It’s all but expected when he’s coaxed out another stream of squirt to add to the several other ones soaking the sheets. “It’s okay, baby. You’re alright, you’re alright. Just breathe with me.” As hard as he’s trying to console you, he can’t help but be aroused by the tear stained state of your pretty face. He tries calming you down but to no avail. And honestly, the way you’re clamping his cock because of it..he doesn’t really want it to stop. Your eyes shut for a split second and a smile crept across his face in satisfaction of what he’s caused. Making love to you so good that you cry? Oh, he can’t get enough of that. Hell, you might even have awoken some sadistic trait inside of him. A little sick and fucked up, he knows it. Because in any other capacity, he wouldn’t be able to stomach the thought of you in shambles like this. But damn, does the sight of you slapping at his abs, saying “daddy..I can’t take it. I’m coming so hard..” Make him want to put a baby in you at that very moment. Even finds himself twitching inside of that warmth when you begin to sniffle and apologize for breaking into a sob. “I’m so sorry..” Before you open your eyes, he has to contain his enthusiasm and the fact that he wants to make it happen again. So he just swaddles you in his grasp, swipes a thumb across your cheek and kisses your temple as he chuckles.

“It’s okay, baby. You can let it all out..let it all go for me. You look so pretty when you do.”

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:.･*:｡.･*:｡.･

REINER, geto, chrollo, gojo, NANAMI, armin, onyakonpon, rengoku, portgas d. ace, erwin, jean, sanji, giyuu, levi, aran, bokuto + anyone else you’d like to add

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broshot · 1 year

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Can I request JJK characters x near death hurt reader? C:

a/n: you absolutely can, thank you for the request! this request doesn't have any characters so I picked a few myself, let me know if there's anyone you wanna see in this and I'll write♡ I also added a little confession to this because it was cute :) this is probably not what you expected at all but I hope that's fine

cw/tw: gn!reader, hurt w comfort (angst to fluff), hurt reader, mentions of death + blood, confession, gojo being a dad to megumi (I love them), probs a bit (or very) ooc, contains: gojo satoru, megumi fushiguro (separately)

nanami and sukuna version

♡♡♡

gojo satoru was a man who feared no fights; he was the strongest, invincible. he went into fights knowing he'd win, he never had any doubt of that.

and he smiled. he smiled and he joked around. he wanted to seem strong both mentally and physically. and he was strong, so strong he could protect anyone, he thought.

so why were you laying on the ground with your head on his lap with blood flowing out of your side? why was the ground being painted red with your blood? why was there so much blood, didn't he win the fight with the curse that was attacking you?

he took of the bandage that was over his eyes, placing it on your wound and pressing on it. it didn't help. the blood kept flowing out, staining his hands red.

"(name), open your eyes," he demanded. you shook your head so slightly he might have missed it if he didn't have his eyes glued onto your face.

"try for me, okay? open your eyes just a little."

you obeyed, looking at him with your eyes slightly open. your eyelids felt heavy. you opened your mouth and choked out a quiet "it hurts, I can't."

"no, please. don't leave me now." he pegged as your eyes started to close again.

"please look at me. the help is on the way, I swear." his voice broke a little and he hated it. he didn't want to cry, he wanted to be strong.

"I'm sorry." you whispered, wishing he'd hear your last apology and maybe, if there was a slight chance to it, maybe accept it.

"don't say that as if they were your last words," he said. "please, open your eyes and look at me."

but you didn't react. he noticed the tears in the corners of your eyes and the thin line of blood getting out of your mouth and sliding down on your cheek.

"no," he breathed in, feeling a wave of panic flow over him. he couldn't loose a person he loved, not again. he definitely wouldn't lose you, he swore to himself.

his head was spinning and he felt dizzy. "satoru, you idiot, you can't collapse too." he scoffed at himself.

"don't stand up or the wound will get worse." he said to himself. what if he didn't move, though? would the blood just bleed out before you got any help?

he felt your body get colder and colder by the seconds. his eyes started to sting and he felt warm, salty tears push out of his eyes to his cheeks.

"please wake up, please!" he sobbed out loud. he couldn't lose you, he didn't want to.

and again, he blamed himself for the nth time. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for not being able to save you." he sobbed, hugging you closer to him. he then raised his head up to the sky and screamed "I didn't ask to be the strongest!" as if the universe could hear him and change the past.

he cried like there was no tomorrow. he didn't care if anyone saw him like this, not now. he could make them forget about it soon enough, anyway. he could build his walls back up and stop looking vulnerable, but at that moment none of that mattered to him. he just wanted to keep you safe.

"gojo! (name)! where are you?" he then heard a voice.

♡♡♡

you opened your eyes but immediately closed them due to a bright light in front of you. you suddenly became aware of your horrible headache.

"(name)? are you awake?" you heard a familiar voice ask and you turned to look to your right.

"satoru," you coughed. he was unusually quiet so you quietly asked him if he was okay.

now that was what got him speaking. "are you.. you could've died - you almost did - and you're asking me if I'm okay?"

you smiled softly and nodded. "you seem quiet."

he looked at you. this was a rare sight - he was crying. gojo satoru, the strongest, was crying. but his next words caught you off guard.

"the love of my life almost died, how could I not be quiet?"

"what?"

"I love you, that's what I'm saying." he looked straight into your eyes, not wanting to seem like a coward. his cheeks were slightly pink.

you were quiet and he felt as if his heart was coming out of his mouth. he was nervous, more nervous than he ever had been.

"I love you too." you finally said, shaking some of his nervousness away.

"I love you so much. I promise I won't let you get hurt again, I'll keep you safe forever." he cried, wrapping his arms around you carefully so he wouldn't make your wound hurt.

"I know satoru. I know you will."

♡♡♡

megumi fushiguro didn't show his emotions often. he was cold and awfully straight forward with his words. because of this, he often hurt other people's feelings, may it be intentional or not. he didn't have much friends because of this.

he did what he was asked to. he fought when he was told to, he wanted to fight. if he won fights he could prove that he was strong and worthy.

he wasn't scared of many things, or so he thought. in fact, he told people he was fearless but it was a big lie. he feared many things, his biggest fear being abandonment. he feared that his loved ones would leave him.

and maybe it was the universe playing tricks on him and his stupid believes, because his biggest fear was displaying right in front of his eyes.

you were on the ground, unconscious and bloody.

he hadn't noticed this happening to you. the current fight against some curses took all of his attention.

he rushed over to you, kneeling down. he tried to wake you, tried to make you open your eyes but you didn't.

he didn't really know how to react. he felt his heart tighten and his stomach twist at the thought of you being gone.

he was in absolute shock, not knowing what to do. so he called gojo.

he answered immediately, just as megumi expected. gojo always answered him fact.

"heyyyy megumi, I'm kind of a middle of a fight right now but what's up?"

"it's about (name.) they're hurt. badly." megumi managed to say, suddenly realizing how dry his mouth was.

"I'll be right over." was what he heard gojo say before the call ended. megumi took your hand in his, squeezing it softly. it was his attempt of trying to comfort himself and stop the bad thoughts from coming into his head.

but as he looked at the ground, he became aware of the huge amount of blood that was coming out of your stomach.

and to his surprise, he cried. he cried in the middle of a fighting ground and in front of many many people. he never cried in front of people, but this was not an ordinary situation.

but then gojo appeared next to him. megumi quickly wiped his tears and tried to look as usual as he could but his tears didn't stop flowing out of his eyes. his tears blurred his vision.

"they're going to die and leave me, aren't they?" megumi sobbed as gojo told someone to take you to a safe place.

"they'll survive for sure, megumi, they're strong." gojo tried to comfort him. megumi shook his head.

"but what if they won't survive?" megumi cried. he felt helpless, childish even.

gojo wrapped his arms around megumi. he didn't know what to do in this situation, he didn't really believe his own words about you surviving.

so let megumi scream into his chest, he told megumi to just let it all out.

♡♡♡

you woke up in a hospital bed. your limbs felt heavy and to be honest, you just wanted to sleep. and you felt warm, really warm. were you getting sick?

but you opened your eyes and saw megumi's black hair. he was sleeping next to you, laying his head on your chest. you lift your arm to softly shake him, waking him up.

"(name)," he whispered, still not awake.

"it's me, 'gumi." you smiled and suddenly he was fully awake.

"you're awake." he stated the obvious.

"I am."

"thank god." he sighed. "I thought you died. and left me."

"I would never leave you. especially like that and without a goodbye." you smiled.

megumi hugged you. he didn't hug you often (he wasn't the biggest affection enjoyer) but this wasn't the most unusual thing. what was more unusual was the fact that he was crying.

"oh megumi, don't cry." you pouted.

"I just, I love you so much and I don't want to live without you." he sobbed. he really decided to throw all of the unusual behavior at you at this moment, you thought.

"you love me?"

"of course I love you, how could I not?" he asked, pulling away from the hug to look at you with his teary eyes.

"you're beautiful." you whispered. "and I love you too, megumi."

"thank god." he sighed, pulling you in for another hug.

♡♡♡

this is so bad omg I'm so sorry english isn't my first language btw so sorry for bad writing♡

I'm writing the other requests too, wait patiently my loves :D (and please request more)

MASTERLIST

#jjk angst #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #soft gojo #megumi fluff #megumi angst #megumi fushiguro fluff #gojo satoru angst #megumi fushiguro angst #satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #megumi x reader #gojo sensei #gojo x reader #gojo smut #megumi smut

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ohimsummer · 4 months

Text

DARK RED ft. BULLY!SATOSUGU

— minors dni, angst w/comfort, mostly bully!satoru x reader, ft. bully! suguru, one implication of male masturbation, some fluff, also one (1) kiss

summary; bully! satoru manages to seriously upset you, and now he’s scrambling to give you a genuine apology

wc 2.8k

"I thought love was supposed to be easy."

Geto pauses mid-sip. "Oh, is that what you're calling this?"

Satoru leans further into his hand. His cheek smushes against his palm, muffling his grumbles. "Duh. What else would it be?"

"You being a dumbass."

Gleaming, white hair sways over Satoru's forehead, brushes his skin. "She wasn't supposed to react like that." You don't usually react like that, he thinks.

He toys with you all the time. The constant teasing and insults towards you is a regular occurrence, as much as you seem to hate it, but you always end up angrily leaving Gojo in the dust, and then the cycle repeats the next day. Only it was different last time; they’re your usual cries and shouts, but it’s a different type of outburst. Real tears in your eyes, your choked words of 'you suck!' and 'why can't you ever take anything seriously for once?' piercing through Gojo's heart and leaving a still-bleeding wound. They don't have your usual, pissed-off bite to them, but instead sound miserable. Heartbroken and disappointed, like the victim of a betrayal. Your expression shriveled any incoming words up in Satoru's throat, leaving him wide-eyed and dumbfounded as he watched you messily wipe away flowing tears and shove past him. That was last Wednesday, and he hasn't seen you since, not a glimpse or even a whiff of you on campus. It's like you never attended this college to begin with.

Satoru looks at his text messages with you, the last one being a dismal 'princess?' that you hadn't even read. He'd thought about threatening to leak one of the many sex tapes he had of you in his phone, but usually those coercions were bluffs, as Gojo nor Geto would dare leak their precious videos of you like that to anyone else. Besides, somehow forcing you into showing yourself made Satoru's stomach queasy. Like he'd vomit up his own heart.

"There."

He looks up at the sound of Geto's voice, following his pointed finger to the drink machine in the cafeteria. After loitering around for 2 hours, you'd finally shown up, alone and looking a little worse for wear. Even from a distance, Satoru can spot the dark circles under your eyes.

You stand idly in line, awaiting your turn to fill your cup. Eyes flitting from person to person, looking out for a fray of white strands or dark hair. It's hard to discern when the cafeteria is so busy at this hour, though you're not too concerned. Gojo and Geto don't usually frequent the cafe, not unless they're here to cause trouble. And you've been avoiding Satoru for about a week now with no complaints from either of them, so you're hoping you can get in and out without being spotted.

It’s an easy walk out of the cafeteria building, and you’re on your way back to your dorm when a familiar nickname stops you in your tracks. "Hey, princess!"

Fight or flight kicks in, and unfortunately your feet cement to the ground. His presence grows stronger as he draws near, until you can sense Gojo right behind you.

"Been avoiding me, Y/N?"

It feels off. He never really calls you by your actual name. "Why do you care?"

A few seconds of silence pass. Then, "Guess I missed my pretty girl is all."

Your heart aches for a second, before you scoff. "Sure you did. What, it's not the same making some other girl cry?"

Gojo doesn't answer, and you finally force your legs to pick up, heaving yourself towards your destination.

"Sorry."

Aaand, they're stuck again. Blinking, your head eases to the side, catching sight of Gojo in the corner of your vision. He looks awkward, staring at you with hands in his pockets and scuffing the ground as he kicks at the concrete. A knot forms in your stomach, hearing him utter an apology without his usual sarcasm or malice. It almost makes you want to talk things over, until the pain of your previous encounter comes flooding back, and you leave him standing there by himself. Rejected.

Day turns to darkness, and Satoru is stuck with another night of humping his fist like a desperate virgin. Suguru’s out, no telling where, leaving him alone with regretful thoughts to torment him. The next day passes. Then two. Then three. Satoru feels like he's going insane, and it's not just because he misses fucking you on the daily. He never realized just how much of a constant you were in his life until suddenly you weren't. Fuck. He groans into his pillow.

"Maybe give her a non-half-baked apology, like a normal person.," Geto complains. "And stop making so much noise, you're distracting."

"Fuck off."

"Fine, she can stay mad at you forever for all I care. You're the one who can't get in her pussy, not me."

Satoru jolts up, jaw falling slack as he glares at who was supposed to be his best friend. "Wha–, you're still fucking her? I just saw her for the first time again like three days ago!"

A smile stretches across Geto’s face. "Do you think our darling is stupid? Why would I get punished for your wrong-doings, she knows I’d fuck her up for that. "

Gojo flops face-down back onto the bed. "Not fair. We should be suffering together."

"Hell no, this is a personal problem between you and Y/N."

He groans again, legs kicking in the air. "Suguruuu, what do I do?"

"...Give her a genuine apology? I coulda sworn I just said that.”

"I already said sorry!"

"Genuine, I said. Not lazy. Give her something she likes."

Satoru turns slightly, brows furrowed. "What, like flowers? I don't know her favorites."

"Sunflowers."

Gojo pauses, directing a curious stink-eye towards Suguru. "And how do you know that?"

"Because I asked?"

Satoru rests a cheek against his arm, thoughts wandering off as he thinks of all the things he knows about you. Small things he's noticed. Like how you wear necklaces more often than any other jewelry, what certain colors catch your eye, things you've mentioned in passing when arguing with him. And now he does remember offering you a random weed he plucked from the ground as a joke, and you muttering 'what the fuck? for future reference, i like sunflowers’ before walking away from him.

"Suguru!," the mentioned man jolts at the sudden bellow of his name. "I'm making Y/N a bouquet!"

"Right." Geto rolls his eyes. "Do you even know how to do that?"

"Do you?"

"Not really–“

"Excellent, cancel your plans tomorrow, we're going out to get flowers!"

Suguru sighs. "Fine."

Both men, well Satoru, and a very grumpy Suguru after being shaken to consciousness, get up bright and early the next Saturday morning in search of a florist.

"Are these vibrant enough, ya think?" Satoru questions Geto, rubbing a hand over his own chin in contemplation. These flowers needed to be perfect, he wanted only the best for his ba–, you.

"These for someone special?," the lady behind the booth inquires. She smiles politely as she admires the golden petals. "A girlfriend, or wife, perhaps?"

"Uh–“

"Wife.," Satoru cuts Geto off. "So yes, very special, indeed."

He narrows his eyes at Suguru, who poorly muffles a chuckle behind his hand. "What?"

"Nothing. Didn't know you were married, is all."

Satoru shrugs, turning to examine the sunflowers again. "Hmph. That just shows you know nothing about me."

“I know you’re a jackass.”

“Anyway,” Gojo brushes him off. “I think these look terrific, perfect for my girl. I’ll take them all!”

Silence passes. The florist’s lids flutter in astonishment. “All of them?”

“Yep! This bouquet needs to be huge!”

Suguru places a hand on his shoulder. “I think that’s enough for several bouquets.”

Gojo’s grin widens. “Even better! Give ‘em to me.”

The looks both men get as they walk the streets with giant armfuls of sunflowers are…peculiar, but Satoru is too busy firing off his own praises on how he’s going to give you the best apology of your life to notice.

“I’m gonna make her cry!,” he beams, pauses, before adding, “Happy tears this time, though.”

Shoulders bounce as Suguru laughs, unable to stifle it with his hands full of shining yellow flowers. “She might just tell you to piss off.”

“Would it kill you to have some faith in me?”

“A little, yes.”

Geto curses under his breath. ‘Shit!’ as he goes stumbling forward right over Satoru’s foot, almost loosing his grip on the assortment in his arms.

“Hey, don’t you dare drop those.,” Gojo pouts. “These are for my wife, and they’re her favorite.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

It takes Satoru hours before he’s happy with the final product. Along with countless tutorials on how to organize a bouquet properly.

“Hold it this way.,” he commands Suguru, who rolls his tired eyes, ready to catch up on the sleep he missed this morning. “There, perfect! Wait, hold on, let me just redo this.”

“Can you hurry up?,” Geto frowns at him. “You’ve redone it like a million times already, damn.”

“Hey, my marriage is at stake here, excuse me for trying to make this look like the best bouquet she’ll ever see!”

“I’m letting go.”

“Nonowait! Okay, I’m done, promise.”

The bouquet comes out stunning, given the fact it was whipped up by two college boys who’d never created a bouquet in their lives, and especially when one of those college boys was Satoru Gojo. He boasts to Suguru, who’s yanking a blanket over his head, how it’s “his best work yet”.

“Maybe be a little more humble when you give it to her.,” Suguru grumbles as Satoru heads out, eager to present you with the display of his apologetic affections.

There’s a certain pep in his step, an excitement Gojo doesn’t often feel unless it’s to see your pretty face. Elated can’t even begin to describe it. The image of your soft lips curling into a smile, eyes sparkling as you see the large array of your favorite flowers, pushes Satoru closer and closer to your dorm building, which stands tall before him. He can’t help but mentally pat himself on the back. Heart swelling, Gojo can see it now, this surprise is going to make you ecstatic–

“Gojo?”

He halts mid-stride, foot hovering in the air, arms loosening around the bouquet. Satoru turns towards the sound and there you are, standing ten feet from him. Your mouth is open in a small ‘o’ as you notice the gift in his hand. Both of you stand there for a moment, eyeing each other, before you eventually break the silence.

“What’s that?”

Satoru snaps back to life, fumbling terribly to stuff the large bouquet behind his back, and he damns himself for making something so awkwardly huge. You watch, biting back a giggle, as he tries to hide what you’ve so obviously seen already. He stutters “u-uh, nothing!’ as a few petals flutter down from his hard work, and he curses ‘fuck!’.

It's easy to sneak up on Gojo when he's so busy floundering with the bunch of flowers. Your mouth threatens to grow into a smile, teeth sinking into your lips at the outlandish sight of him struggling to completely conceal the massive bouquet from your sight. The sharp pinch of your fingertips on his shoulder snatches Gojo from his frantic thoughts.

“Is this your way of apologizing again?”

“No!,” is his instant reply, startling you until Gojo averts his gaze to the concrete. “I mean...yeah. You ruined the surprise.”

This interaction feels more routine, less delicate. The way his lips jut out in a pout, his teasing banter. Crossing arms over your chest, you give Gojo an unamused look. “Ummm, it’s huge. How did you plan on hiding that from me?”

“…”

Satoru thinks his heart stutters as you hold out your arms, hands gesturing for the bouquet, and he slowly reveals the assortment of flowers behind his back. Through his panicked, rushed efforts to hide them, the paper has torn, some of the flowers are missing petals, and some aren’t in the exact position he and Suguru had so meticulously arranged them.

“Dumbass.,” you huff, wrapping fingers around the stems, which are adorned with a crinkly, cream colored paper and a dark green bow. “I’m still mad with you.”

Satoru’s breath hitches as your fingers brush his, as if it's the first time he's ever touched you. He relinquishes hold of the bouquet. “You like ‘em, though? Don’t lie, I can tell.”

“Just shut up.”

He flashes you a toothy, boyish grin, one that makes your heart beat a little faster. “It’s all for you, my pretty Y/N.”

Eyes rolling, you intently study the bouquet, raising it to hide your flustered expression. A warmth creeps over your body at the way Satoru utters your name, like if he says it too loudly, it will break apart into glass pieces. The paper creases under your restless fingers.

“Thank you, Satoru.”

The flowers are striking, but Gojo doesn’t think they compare at all to your beauty. Blue eyes admire you, at the way you marvel over the bunch of sunflowers, beaming at how fresh and vibrant and downright captivating they are. You glance up to meet Satoru’s eye, and he rubs at the back of his neck.

“So, uh,” he starts, avoiding your gaze. “I’m sorry about what I said. Really didn’t mean to upset you that much.”

Your eyes narrow. “That much?”

“Well, you know you’re really hot when you’re mad, but I didn’t mean to do that–“

“And did I look hot then?”

“No! Well, you weren’t ugly, but I didn’t like seeing you so upset–, usually it’s a turn on when you’re all angry but it felt different that time and Suguru didn’t tell me until later you were having a super rough day so I figured I might have hit a nerve–“

You cradle the bouquet to your chest, thoroughly enjoying the clumsy flow of his words, determined not to dig himself a deeper hole or upset you all over again. His lips pause, and then Gojo interrupts another sentence with a new one, before the downturn of his brows as he catches your gleaming eyes.

“My point is that I’m sorry.” He spots the twitch of your frown. “I know you wanna smile, let me see it.”

You can’t help but grin as your mouth opens. “No I don’t. And I guess you’re forgiven, now get away from me so I can enjoy my bouquet in peace.”

“Wait, that’s not it!” Before you turn away, Satoru reaches into his back pocket to pull out a small, white, silk bag with a white ribbon securing the opening. “I got this too. Here.”

You recognize the design of the tiny sack from a rather expensive jewelry store, one you could only dream of buying from. And now here you were, in possession of something from that same store, mouth gaping open as Satoru snickers.

“You just gonna stare, baby, or…?”

The fabric of the bag is soft in your hands, smooth and easy on your fingers. Hugging the bouquet to your side, the ribbon loosens to reveal a dainty, silver necklace inside, adorned with a small, heart charm engraved with your initials.

“Oh, wow . .” You’re awestruck at how delicate and pretty it looks. Turning it over, you find a “G.S” on the other side of the heart. “And Suguru’s initials on the back? How sweet.”

“Don’t play.”

“Whatever.,” you giggle at his downturned lips. “It’s very nice, I like it.”

Satoru can’t help pat himself on the back. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it? Cost a hefty chunk of change, especially since I wanted it so quick and on such short notice–“

“Uh huh.” This big dummy. Your smile grows at the thought.

“–and you know I just had to get the best for my pretty girl, plus I got kinda hard at the thought of my initials on your chest–“

Gojo’s words catch in his throat at the soft press of your lips to his cheek. Blood shoots to his face, instantly, and you can’t help bursting into a round of giggles, barely gasping out ‘you look like a strawberry!’. He’s so embarrassed that the realization that you willingly kissed him of your own accord doesn’t even register. All Satoru feels is a burning heat on his cheeks and a tightness in his chest, desire squeezing a fist around his heart as you smirk up at him through a fit of laughter.

“You are really somethin’ else. Bye, Satoru, also learn to stop talking sometimes.”

All Gojo can do is wave as you depart, leaving you with a ‘see ya, princess’ as you disappear into the building, sparing him one last glance. His phone vibrates as you leave his line of sight, announcing a text from Suguru.

asshole🤮: you give it to her yet?

s: i thought the sleeping beauty was getting a nap in?

asshole🤮: she told you to fuck off, didn’t she?

s: stfu

#bully! satosugu #bully! satoru #satoru gojo imagine #satoru x reader #Satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader fluff #jjk x reader fluff #satoru gojo angst #jjk angst

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