Do you think there could be a chance where reader and bully! gojo meet again years later and try again? Maybe 🥹
part one here — contents. fem! reader, exes to lovers, neighbors to lovers, slight nsfw so minors do not interact, slight angst but it’s a hopeful (pretty much happy) ending, idk what else lmk what i missed
imagine you guys are neighbors—you accidentally meet when you’re both walking up to your apartment doors one night after work. he pauses, and you can feel eyes staring into you from the side so you look over and yeah. wow. there’s your worst heartbreak of your youth standing right there in all his glory, staring at you like you’re a figment of his imagination come true. like he never expected to see you again (you suppose he probably didn’t).
“hey,” he says softly. satoru has never been one to greet someone first, never been the one to reach out and bridge the gap himself. he always waits to be approached. that much has surprisingly changed since the last time you saw him.
“oh…” you trail off, “hi. it’s you.”
you don’t seem half as happy to see him as he does you—but that much is to be expected, of course. satoru didn’t have the luxury of moving on, you can tell because you still can read him just as easy after all these years. like he hasn’t changed the small quirks about him, like he’s still tried desperately to hold onto his past because that’s where you were. he still looks desperately in love like the night you left him.
it’s pathetic, you wanna say. to still be in love for so long. when it’s so clearly over and there’s no coming back. a small part of you is filled with this sick, evil satisfaction that he’s still thinking about you when you don’t spare him a single thought.
but you suppose you’re not at over him as you thought when there’s this much excitement bubbling into you at his suffering. maybe, if you were actually completely over him, you’d be indifferent to him. you wouldn’t forget, but you’d forgive. you’d hope he learned his lesson and spared another innocent, poor girl from what you suffered for simply loving him. for simply wanting him to feel cherished and special and worth someone’s time.
you hope he’s better now—not for yourself, but for someone else. he doesn’t deserve a second of your time.
“you live here?” he asks, mildly shocked.
you’re almost offended. does he mean he thinks you can’t afford to live in the same apartment building as him? or is he just that shocked to see you? nothing about satoru seems genuine—you can’t help but assume the worst in him.
“yes,” you say curtly, “i moved here for work.” (why did you add that? why are you giving an opening to make conversation?)
“oh, really? me too,” he nods. (why is he making conversation? why couldn’t he have just ignored that opening and spared you the trouble?)
“oh,” is all you say. it’s silent for a bit, and then, “well, i better—”
almost like he knows what you’re about to say, he cuts you off with a quick, “i teach now.” you blink, staring at him in confusion. he rubs his neck as he adds, “i uh…i teach at that high school down the block. so uh…that’s why i moved here.”
“that’s…that’s nice,” you nod awkwardly. why is he telling you all this?
“yeah, my students are really cool,” he adds with a grin—it’s…a bit cute, actually. because he means it. his smile is too fond for it to not be true.
this isn’t the satoru you know—at least, not the one you think is the real satoru. you’re not so sure which side of him is actually him.
“i’m glad you enjoy what you do,” you offer. there’s not much else to say. “i’ll be heading in now.”
“right,” he coughs, “s-see you around.”
and then you really do see him around.
sometimes, it’s when you both leave in the mornings—he lets you enter the elevator first and presses the button for you when he gets in. he always lets you exit first too, like he cares to be chivalrous even if you’re not together anymore. sometimes it’s when you’re coming home—he’s holding a bag of take out as he walks up to his own door. you suppose he’s never been one to cook, and that probably hasn’t changed. sometimes, you’ll see him at the grocery store too—his cart is usually just filled with snacks and sweets. it’s not a very adult like shopping cart, so something’s evidently never change.
and every time he sees you, he always tries to strike up a conversation. no matter how short of a window your time is. even if it’s the forty five second elevator ride from floor one to floor three, he’s determined to say something.
today my students got me a gift—it’s a pair of sunglasses, because he still apparently loves those.
i got to take my students on a field trip today. i’ve been planning it for weeks—they have to write a paper on it, though. they’re not too happy about that even if they enjoyed themselves.
today was my student yuji’s birthday. i let the others out early to celebrate with him—they’re apparently all a good bunch of kids. friendly and tight knit in a way satoru’s never experienced. he thinks kids should hold onto that. good friends are hard to come by, after all.
and you’re always guarded. always so cautious and careful when you talk to him. sometimes you try to be polite, other times it’s abundantly apparent you don’t want to converse. he doesn’t pay it any mind, though. just rambles away and away and away and talks enough for the both of you because he’s just happy you’ll listen. even if begrudgingly.
and then one night, it happens—it’s late and you had to stay extra in the office. you’re grumpy and tired and the only good thing about this is that it’s late enough that you probably won’t run into satoru today.
except he’s waiting right there, head against your door as he fidgets with the door knob and grumbles incoherently under his breath.
“stupid damn door,” he slurs, “jus’ fuckin’ open.”
“ahem,” you clear your throat—he stiffens. “any particular reason you’re trying to break in?”
he turns to face you—stumbles a little as his glossed eyes look at you in confusion. he’s drunk—you can smell the liquor on him.
“whad’ya mean? ‘s my door,” he holds an arm out to gesture at your door.
“no,” you sigh, pointing to the door next to yours, “that one is.”
“oh!” he perks up, “‘s why it wasn’t working?”
“most likely,” you nod awkwardly, “that’s usually how that works.”
you watch as he unceremoniously stumbles over his steps to his door—how he tries but fails to get his keys through the key hole before you sigh and take pity on him. you don’t have it in you to leave a drunk person out in the cold, no matter how much (bad) history you might have.
“here,” you sigh, grabbing his keys from his hand and opening the door for him. you try to ignore that brief moment of warmth where your hands brushed against each other.
“do y’know what today is?” he mumbles, breath fanning over your shoulder as you open his door.
“i….tuesday?” you ask, in confusion. he looks crestfallen when you stare his face.
“oh, n-never—” he stumbles a bit. you catch him before you realize. “never mind.”
somehow, you barely manage to help him to his couch before he’s passing out, too drunk to really register anything else. satoru never drinks much—it was the funniest part about him. you used to tease him for it all the time, for being a frat boy who can hardly handle some alcohol.
i like being in control, he’d say petulantly, i don’t need to be drunk to have a good time. i am the good time.
you take a quick glance around his place before you can catch yourself. it’s not very different from your place—the living room is the same size and the structure is more or less the same. his tv is a bit more expensive, and his furniture is more simple. that’s about it.
you glance down at him one last time before walking out and shutting the door behind you. you hesitate for a moment before turning on the screen of your phone to check the date—it takes you a moment, but then it hits you.
it’s the day you broke up. all those years ago. it’s certainly been a good few—you almost forgot the date, but apparently satoru remembers. he remembers enough to go get shit-faced drunk as if the memory is too much to bear.
does he do this every year? drink away his sorrows every anniversary of the day you left him? does he really still care that much? why hasn’t he moved on?
and then you stop thinking about it. it’s not your problem.
but then you just…can’t help but be a bit more gentle around him. it happens without your control. maybe it’s muscle memory. maybe you’re finally letting your muscles relax and do that involuntary thing of their own that they do.
evidently that’s to be more soft with the boy who broke your heart. except he’s a man now, you suppose. he should’ve been a man when you dated him—but you’re glad he grew up eventually. even if you couldn’t be there with him for it.
but you’re a bit more friendly with him now—you suppose you can coexist with your talkative neighbor that also happens to be your awful ex boyfriend. you answer him a bit more when he talks to you, ask him about his students when he brings them up—he brightens so much when you do. it’s….painfully endearing.
yuji is sweet, a little too kind for his own good. nobara is a little tough to soften up, but once you do, she loves tenfold. megumi is a grump, but he’s a real softie. yuta is a bit socially awkward, but he’s got a good heart. maki is all business and very studious, but she’s a determined young girl. panda is not a panda—his name is odd but he’s funny. toge is quiet, but he looks out for people.
they’re good kids. he cares a great deal about them.
and then you start to tell him about your job. how your boss is another baldy that’s annoying—just like the professor you both shared. he chuckles at that. your coworkers are a good gossip, but you’d never go hang out with them outside of work. well, maybe except for one—utahime is a nice person, even if a bit of a priss sometimes.
it’s nice, talking to him. he’s funny, makes banter easily like it’s second nature. sometimes….sometimes it feels like old times. you’re not so sure how you feel about that, but you think it’s not bad. you can be grown ups, the two of you. you can be adults and ignore your immature past. the hurt is still there, but it’s manageable now. doesn’t linger and doesn’t weigh on you anymore.
sometimes satoru still stares at you in that way he did all those years ago, sometimes he still stutters over his words and loses his train of thought when he meets your eyes. he still loves you—you knew that from the start.
you stopped loving him a long time ago. that’s what you thought, anyway—but sometimes seeing satoru is….too familiar. it makes you feel things you thought you buried away for good. maybe it’s just deja vu, maybe it’s just the history speaking for itself.
or maybe…maybe you’re starting to tread a more dangerous path. the one that led you to your first, and worst heartbreak. you can’t step foot on that path again, no matter what.
that’s what you tell yourself, anyway—but satoru and you are talking one night. in front of your doors, like usual. you’re excited from a raise at work, and he’s excited because his students have done exceptionally on their final exams and you’re both celebratory in spirit enough that it turns into a cheery hug—and then…and then you’re kissing.
that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it does. you don’t know who kisses who, but you’re both wrapped up in each other and your lips are pressed against the others and oh, he feels so, so familiar.
like home. even if it’s not always safe to be there anymore, it’s still your home. you can’t let go of that nostalgia.
and then his hands cup your cheeks and your arms wrap around his neck and suddenly he’s in your bed—your door was already unlocked and the two of you somehow managed to stumble through the entire apartment until your back hits your mattress. your place is similar enough to his that he finds your room without any issues.
it was never supposed to happen—the shedding of clothes and the desperately needy kisses. the way you held his face and he held you. the way he trembled as he touched you, scared he’d mess it up again. the way you laced your fingers and kissed him between his brows like old times.
and then he fucks you like he means it. has his head in the crook of your neck and sniffles into your skin, rolls his hips and makes you mewl his name while he tells you every good thing about you.
you’re beautiful, the prettiest he’s ever seen. you’re so soft when you love, so delicate with the ones who hold your affection, it’s too much for anyone to deserve. you’re laugh is like music, a melody that’s impossible to grow tired of. but the most important part? you look at everyone like they’re worth something—just for existing, just for being there with you and crossing your path. worth your time, and energy, and compassion. they never have to work for it.
it’s rare, finding someone like that. it’s even more rare to get them to fall in love with you—satoru has never stopped regretting letting that go.
he whispers that all through breathy moans and the occasional cracked sob. whimpers when your fingers lock into his hair and pull the strands when his swollen tip kisses that spot he never forgot how to find. you cum first, falling apart with a gasp—and he cums right after, like feeling you is what it takes to make him come undone.
you still do that thing you did—rubbing his back as he spills into you, soothing him as he pants harshly into your skin. the only difference is that you don’t kiss his head sweetly and call him yours. god, he misses that so, so badly.
when his body slumps over yours, it’s when it hits you, what you just did.
“oh no,” you breathe, “oh god. we….we shouldn’t have done that, should we?” you ask tiredly.
satoru’s lip is trembling—he can’t bear to have you regret him. not again.
“i love you,” he says desperately, “i…i never stopped.”
“obviously you didn’t love me enough,” you mumble, not looking at him. it’s something you’ve realized—looking satoru in his eyes makes you weak.
you can’t have that.
“i’ll love you more than enough now,” he promises.
“what if i say i don’t love you anymore, satoru?” you challenge, “it’s been years. i didn’t wait around for you.”
his breath shakes at that. you think you got him there, but apparently he’s determined. it shocks you.
“then i’ll love enough for the both of us.”
for a moment, you can’t help but think if only everyone could see him now. years later. gojo satoru begging you to let him love you hard enough that you don’t have to. being okay with half of you because that’s better than none of you.
it’s almost comical. maybe a little sad. entirely avoidable if he’d just been brave from the start.
“that’s not fair to you,” you sigh, “you’re an asshole but…but you don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who can love you—”
“then i’ll show you,” he grabs your hand, pressing it to his face as he looks at you with enough hope that it’s almost too cruel to crush it. even for someone like him. “i’ll show you how to love me again. it’ll be easier this time. i promise.”
there’s a tear that slips down his cheek—and then another and another and another. and your thumb, just like muscle memory, swipes it away.
you want to tell him—it’s always been so, so easy to love satoru. easier than anything in the world. easier than loving yourself. it came like second nature, flowed through your blood stream and pumped through your heart. you loved him so easily.
you wish he’d loved himself a little bit easier back then. maybe he’d have realized who was worth keeping and who wasn’t. maybe he’d be happier now—a selfish part of you thinks you could’ve been happier that way too.
“satoru,” you sigh, “i have more self respect these days.”
“i know,” he nods, “i’ll be good—so good. i promise. i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and we can have three cats and i’ll pay for the vet visits. just like you always wanted.”
you can’t help but chuckle at that. he’s always known how to be charming at the right times.
“and what about the fancy window i always wanted?”
“i’ll get you one of those too,” he swears, “find us a nice place by the school and your job and we’ll be the best cat parents ever. and i’ll be good. so good.”
“i can’t do that all again,” you shake your head, “crying over someone like you is not worth it.”
“i won’t make you cry,” he insists.
something in you screams to believe him—that voice from your youth. that one that never quite stopped falling in love. that one that can’t ever really let him go.
“you don’t deserve me,” you mumble, pulling him close. he tucks his head into your neck, kisses your skin and breathes you in like he needs you to live.
maybe he does.
“i know,” he murmurs. “but i love you. i’ll make you love me again.”
“good luck,” you snort—your hand weaves into his hair, and your lips kiss his head.
well….maybe he’s already succeeded.
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A LOYAL BUTLER
➥ warnings/notices: yandere, nsfw, smut, mentioned deaths, mentioned masturbation, obsession, afab! reader, forbidden love (?), fingering, cunnilings, overstimulating, forbidden relationship.
➥ yandere! butler x mistress! reader
➥ synopsis: with all men dead, you are the currently head of the family and by your side stand your loyal butler who helps you with a small problem.
➥ a/n: request by @taeee0902. based on a small chat we had a few weeks ago. I really love their idea of having a butler as a yandere for a mistress who can’t catch a break from work, so she uses her beloved servant as a stress relief. this one is a little short since I got a some projects from college I need to do. SECOND PART HERE, GUYS!
➥ unlike the rest of the noble houses of the empire, the barony is lead by a woman, you. since your father, brothers and uncles death, you have become the head of the family in the middle of the night with the approval of the last member of the royal family, the empress. meaning that none could take over your place if they marry you, making you the only person able to rule over the barony along with the help of elliot, your personal butler.
➥ he has been on your side since the early days. a little bit older than you by a couple of years, elliot has been your butler and best friend for a long time, someone who you can trust with your secrets and to help around work when you are stressed out. his gloved hands caressing your hair when you can barely stay awake from working hours and hour without a break or when elliot lays you down the couch of the office to give you a nice and deserved rest.
➥ it a routine that you are still getting used to it. always working without taking a single break (how father managed to do that?), talking and talking with people who are boring (almost falling asleep during meetings) and your less favorite, being so lonely. being the head of the house means that you have no time to spend one with the family, at least with those who still alive, and they live so far away from the barony that makes you feel so alone most of the time…but you have elliot at your side, don’t you? he won’t leave anytime soon, he promised that.
➥ most of the days is about you and elliot working together to fill the paperwork before night, it’s not easy as you expected, but its satisfying seeing how your hardwork later when the money arrives. and of course, you buy a few gifts for elliot to thank him for his help.
➥ sometimes are cufflinks that are made with the finest gems of the empire to match his eyes (that are only for you, my dear), expensive clothing that make many mistake him for a nobleman (he wishes to be the one to marry you) and a glass to help with his poor eyesight (he didn’t imagine that you could even more gorgeous). you are perfect, none can be compared to you and those who even try to stand up at the same height as your should suffer.
➥ and when you stop working for the day, elliot makes sure to take care of you. massaging your shoulder after you finally get a time to rest, preparing the soft and tasty food to make up to your hard work and helping you taking off your dresses. his hand unbuttoning the back of vests, to reveal your collarbone (the one that he dreams to place many marks on it) and your lingerie.
➥ he only could imagine how beautiful you are behind those piece of clothing, the water of the bathtub made difficult to see you nudity as he washes you hair with the finest shampoo and hearing you humming a melody from an old fairy tale. elliot feels like he is the happiest man on earth by touching your body in a intimate way, but he wishes to be more close with you and feel your body under his. is this too much to ask for?
➥ once the bath is done for good, elliot helps you put some lightly vests to cover you from the cold night and then guide you to the office, after all, you still need to work with some paperwork, where he stays right by your side for a couple of minutes before his time to leave. he was ready to leave for the night, but you call his name from the desk and asked him to come closer.
➥ is there something you need from me, [name]? he has the right to call by first name when alone. elliot hoped to be a simple request, such a glass of water, but you surprised him. you asked him, your personal butler, to have a sexual relationship with him. a casual thing, you told him that you need to let the stress out somehow.
➥ elliot’s mind told him to refuse the request, it’s not right to a noble woman and her butler to be in an intimate relationship, it’s forbidden! but his heart told him otherwise, saying it’s his only chance to be closer to you as he always dreamed of and that he could stop touching himself while thinking of you at night…he accepted your offer.
➥ the following day went smoothly to the servants of the household, after all, you looked so much better after days and days of stressing over working! but where is elliot? the butler was supposed to be serving you all the time, but no one can find him anywhere…maybe if they look under your desk they would find him.
➥ his fingers is hitting places you couldn’t never. teasing and touching every inch of your spongy walls, making you almost unable to hold back the moans that are desperate trying to get out. elliot has zero experience in touching a woman, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a faster leaner, managing to find the best areas of your inside to result in your body squirt under his touch. letting your fluids hit his lips and glasses, making him feel so powerful for being the responsible one to do it.
➥ eyes rolling back and trembling your whole body when elliot goes further with his tongue inside you. tasting how sweet and admiring how wet you can get by a merely teasing of his part, have you dream of this? how long have you been waiting for this to happen? he is going to ask it later, but now, he will be the responsible one to make you come by his tongue alone, elliot wants to drink til the last drop.
➥ his pleasure is ignored, completely obsessing over yours. elliot has his main goal to make you come by him and to hear the sweet sounds coming out of your lips, he adores it so much! it’s seem like time stops when you orgasm over and over til you can’t talk nor move your legs…and he isn’t stopping.
➥ elliot…t-too much, please stop. he doesn’t hear your words, his tongue continues to move inside and fingers are holding your thighs away to give him a better view of your pretty pussy, admiring it once again, then he continues with his work to make you feel good, unaware that you’ve reach your limit.
➥ luckily, you managed to push him away and elliot finally notice of your currently state. if someone say you right now, they won’t believe that you are noble lady, not with a commoner between your legs, with an expression from those erotic novels that many read in secret. it would be a such problem if anyone catch him this way.
➥ I-I’m exhausted… you are tired, of course you are, who wouldn’t be after a series of orgasm? but not elliot. he stares at you with his eyes begging for more, not even caring about his pants being ruined by his cum. tonight he is going to focus on you alone. you w-want more? he nodded, already teasing your clit again and whispering how much he loves you, his finger tapping your skin and fluids. well, since you asked it so nicely, elliot. you can continue it as long im working, okay?
➥ the smile on his face only grew before he went back to his place between your thighs, already feeling like he is the luckiest man in earth.
@moonit3 writings
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